by Faeriemage

"And whosoever of you will be chiefest, shall be servant of all"
Mark 10:44
King James edition, Bible

---

The Drake settled in to a landing at the Cork general pad. He could have landed at the pad by the manor, but he hadn't visited Cork in over two years, and there was a lot to do. A crowd had already formed in announcement of his arrival.

"Michael, you know how dangerous a situation like this is. . ."

"Relax, Steven. These are my people. I am their Lord. If they want to kill me, then I've already failed at the true test of leadership, and I deserve to die." there was a smile on his face, but he said it in a deadly serious tone.

He stepped out of the 'car and walked into the people. "Michael, you kept me waiting long enough, didn't you." Michael almost cringed when he heard that strident voice. Amanda LaBrune was considered by many to be a gold digger. She'd outlived both her first husband and his fortune. She was a couple of decades older than Michael, and at one point had set her sites on him. He was twelve at the time. However, she wasn't as bad as she seemed, and mostly just wanted to live in comfort. If anything she could be said to be almost sexless in her own mind.

"You know we don't work well together, Amanda."

"Mandy, are you teasing Michael again?"

"Just a little, Honey."

Michael looked at the man who'd spoken with surprise. "Wait. . .Henry? You and Amanda?"

"It turns out that she isn't afraid of a little hard work. She just never found the right man to inspire her."

"And Henry is an excellent cook."

"So, what did I make you wait for?"

"My wedding of course. I could never concieve of a world where I wouldn't have the lord of the manor marry me off to his Steward."

"Well, in that case, we have a wedding to organize."

***
On Wayland in particular, and throghout the Crystalline Empire as a whole, there is a difference between leadership and nobility. Long ago they granted titles to lands as rewards for those who served well or distinguished themselves in other manners. Some of these lands were granted to an individual for life, but some were granted in perpetuity. This was the start of the nobility.

Unfortunately, you need leadership to run prety much anything as complex as the lands granted to these individuals.

Anyone who wants to take personal control of their own lands must take the Test. Usually, they just hire a Steward to run them, while they reap the benefits. The Alcort lands had been personally run for more than twenty generations before the asent of Michael's father to the throne. Henry Thomas had served in the navy with George Alcort during the debacle that had almost cost every member of their crew their lives, and had been instrumental in helping to restore order in the aftermath.

When it came time to appoint a Steward over his lands, there was only one choice.

***
Imperials love a good party. They work hard to uphold the standards that they hold themselves to, and play hard to relax. When the news that there would be an almost royal wedding got out, they came together with a vigor that was breathtaking to anyone but a native Waylander. Tents were donated, and flower arrangements raided from personal ornamental gardens. Dishes prepared in thousands of kitchens to rival the best catered meals.

This was THEIR Steward getting married, and they wanted to show him the appreciation he deserved for his past thirty years of service. Many a mother despaired that their daughter was no longer in the running, but they took it in stride. They were a community. They were a family. They were Cork and this was the home of the Emperor.

What could have taken weeks with a few paid laborers was completed in a couple of days. It almost seemed that from moment to moment the pavilion changed from a public space into a wonderland of lace and flowers, garlands and roses. A bower was constructed for the actual ceremony, and chairs were collected, painted in some instances, and arranged in rows.

Everyone was everywhere at once.

Michael was in their midst. He pitched in to lift poles, and put in stakes. He carried beams and hammered them in place.

Laughter and banter made the work easy.

"So, Michael, did you pass?" Asked by many friends, in many ways.

"I completed it, but I don't know if I passed yet."

"Of course you passed. You're an Alcort after all."

"Just because we've run our own lands for generations, doesn't mean I will pass."

"Blood tells, Michael, and your father and sister both passed. You'll do us proud on the throne one day."

Variations on this passed many lips, the responses were mostly the same.

Michael worried. He knew that Roland had come from a long line of leaders as well. He'd failed not only the Test, but in a true test of leadership. He'd failed every man and woman aboard that ship. He'd led them into an ambush, and in the aftermath couldn't even pull himself out of his room. It had surprised his father and himself when Roland had offered to stand with Michael at the ceremony.

"If he's willing to mend bridges with the throne, I'm willing to let him."

"You know he always has an ulterior motive, Father."

"We are expected to be better than that, Michael. We need to give people the opportunity to change. Punishment is still given where deserved, but a repentant soul is allowed to come back."

'Can we really change, Father?' Michael thought as he worked. 'And if we can change, what does that say about a Test we only take once in our lives."

Michael smiled at the girls. Most of them were there to flirt, but they still helped out. Jennifer Leslie was still chasing him with an energy that scared him sometimes, and she cornered him in an off moment.

"Michael!"

"Jennifer."

"Is that any way to greet your intended."

"Jennifer. . ."

"Look, I know it's a joke. You need to lighten up, Your Highness."

Michael snorted at this. "There ya go!"

"You know we'll never work out together."

"Never say never, Michael. You don't know what the future brings."

"I see a wedding in my future, Jennifer."

"Really?!" she brightened at this. He almost felt bad about his next words, "Yeah, I'm marrying. . .my Steward to his intended."

"You are so cruel." Her words may have berated him, but she laughed at them. He joined in the laughter, trying to show there were no hard feelings. "Well, keep me in mind, Michael. You may think me to be a flighty girl, but there is substance to me as well. Take me on a date sometime and we can figure out each other for a couple of hours."

This was definitely not her usual track of light banter. It seemed that he might have underestimated her resolve. She would be a formidable oponent at a diplomatic table, and she just wanted to date him. The thought almost made him shudder. If he wasn't careful, one of these days he'd wind up married to her without ever realizing it.

He talked to friends and distant relations. He work as hard as anyone else there, and as he had no other responsibilities, he worked longer than most. In the end, everything was arranged to perfection.

"Look, Steven, I can't have my body guard standing up there while I'm officiating over a wedding."

"My lord, if I might propose a solution?"

"Henry, how many times have I told you that I'm only Michael to you?"

"Some things are simply not done, My lord. I can't have you as my best man, and officiate, at the same time. I would be honnored if Steven stood with me on this day."

***
The grounds of the manor were spotless. The garden's exquisite. There was not a leaf out of place, or a flower out of bloom. No detritus clogged the beds, nor needles, nor leaves.

An army of gardeners came through just after dark when it wouldn't interrupt his view or his parties. Roland was well pleased with his grounds. The men in his study pleased him less.

"Let me see if I properly understood you. You. . .individuals. . .came here to tell me that your cost has gone up. That you are going to expose me as an usurper unless I pay this amount. Is that about the size of it? Now, which of you two thought this idea up?"

They twirled their wine glasses, and one negligently raised a hand. "That would be me. Such an masterful stroke as well, don't you think?"

He walked over to the other man and jabbed a self injecting hypodermic needle into his arm. He looked down at the man, knowing full well that he had been the one who really came up with the idea. "Allowing your associate to take credit just saved your life."

The other man began to choke, and then to convulse. He twitched for a couple of minutes while they watched. "Dreadful thing, nerve poisons. Unless the antidote is administered shortly before or after exposure, you're dead. Now, do we understand each other?" Roland looked down at the man whose life he'd just spared.

The man was pale and trembling a bit, but he nodded.

"And you call yourself a pirate. The scourge of space. Make sure that both of those jets are ready and armed and ready to follow orders. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Roland."

"I think I require a bit more of you this time. How about Imperator. I like that. Say Yes, Imperator."

"Yes, Imperator."

"Good, now get out of my sight."

***
"Good, now get out of my sight" The recording stopped there.

"And he still doesn't suspect you?"

"For Roland, anyone who is a servant might as well not exist unless he needs something. He doesn't even realize I have a microphone and recorder on me at all times."

"Good. So, how go the manipulations?"

"He is going forward with the coup attempt. He will have two separate bombings, one at Cork and one in the Capitol Building. He had to make a last minute change of plans, because Michael was sent to their lands for safety for a little while."

"And the other part?"

"Our Consul will be ready to make a request for intervention from Earth as soon as the event occurs."

"Keep me informed."

"Yes, Mr. President."

***
"With the announcement that Michael passed his Test, the earlier vote which named him as successor to the Throne has been ratified. Michael is currently officiating in a wedding for long time Cork Steward Henry Thomas.

"In other news, the Emperor will be meeting with top ranking government officials later today to discuss the tragedy as yet another of the highest officials dies under mysterious circumstances."

The TV turned off. "Hey, I was watching that."

"Well, Michael, you should have been getting ready."

"Catherine?!"

"Heya, bro. How goes?"

"Don't you have some test or other to study for?"

"Not any more. I graduated yesterday. I am a fully accredited engineer now."

"That's great. I knew you had it in you."

"Now, if only I could convince Ships of that." The Imperial Navy had a number of semi-civilian divisions. Of those, the Division of Ship Design and Construction was probably the largest. It was also the hardest to get into for someone without any experience. "Michael. . .would you?"

"Nope. If you can't get there on your own merits, you don't deserve to be there."

"Stinker."

"I know, but you know why. "

"Doesn't mean I have to like it. Sometimes I wonder if I am not being allowed in to avoid the appearance of favoritism."

"Actually, I happen to know that they submitted you under a pseudonym for all public documents. All of the paper pushers who get your file don't even know who you are."

"So, are you going to finish getting ready?"

"I hate these formal clothes. Why can't I just wear a suit?"

"Because you are acting as the Lord of Cork, and that requires court dress."

"Then you do up my buttons."

Court dress was a mess of buttons and frills . Two rows of buttons, actually, one on each side of the chest, with a solid front piece in between. It was a solid black, with gold braid on the shoulders and sleeves. Sometimes he thought it looked like someone's idea of a perfect military uniform, except it had absolutely no practical use. It took help to get into or out of, which was something most of the nobles probably felt entitled to.

He was finally ensconced, and his cravat fluffed. He offered his arm to his sister, also in full court dress. She opted for the more practical pants and jacket. Women at least got a choice, although Michael never considered those full skirts and corsets useful for anything but blocking doorways, and causing their occupants to swoon.

Apparently his sister agreed with him.

They walked out to the head of the platform. Henry was already in place. Steven, as usual, had his gun strapped to his leg, and the lock strap open. He scanned the crowd for threats even here.

Catherine took a step back. Michael had prepared and memorized his words, so I wouldn't need a book to recite them. Not that it mattered, since on his own lands, having passed the Test, his words were law.

The organ started a wedding march, and the bride walked up to stand beside her husband to be.

"Friends and Family. Neighbors all. We gather here before god to witness the joining of two souls. Many in the past have intoned the virtues, and the pitfalls, of marriage, but I will do neither. I know that I lack experience in this world, but that is not the reason I fail to do so. These two individuals know more on this subject than I do.

"Henry has been married to his job for longer than I've been alive, and Amanda has just been married."

There was a light chuckle from the audience, and a whispered, "I'll get you for that," from the bride.

"Marriage is a celebration. It is a joining of the fates of two individuals. Some say this bond lasts until death. For some it is eternity.

"I say that a true marriage has no beginning, only a recognition. When the hearts of two people truly become one, no piece of paper or ceremony, however fancy, means anything to them. All we are performing here is a wedding. Their marriage began the moment that they promised themselves to each other heart and soul.

"This wedding is a recognition of that event. It is a statement that we shall henceforth recognize these two people as a single unit.

"The man is not greater in this union. The woman is not greater. They are equals, and equally shall they benefit from a true union, should this be."

"I prefer simple answers to simple questions. So, instead of the more 'traditional' I do, I would prefer a yes from each of you in response."

Someone from the audience yelled out, "What if the answer is 'no'?" There was a general chuckle at this.

"Then they answer no."

Michael turned to Amanda. "I will start with you, since I already know what Henry's answer will be. Do you accept this man into your heart? Are you willing to live with his faults and virtues? Overlook his mistakes, and forgive his trespasses? Love him, help him, and, as is so likely in your case, outlive him should the time come?"

"Yes." There was laugher in her voice, and tears in her eyes.

"Henry, my old friend. Will you put her before all others, even your job? Accept what she offers to you and take nothing more? Forgive her for your mistakes, and accept fault where none was intended or often given? Will you extol her virtues, and turn a blind eye to her non-existent faults? Love her, help her, Cherish her?"

"Yes."

"Are there any here who wish to stop the proceedings now before it becomes too late?"

There was a huge chorus of no's with one, "It's already too late," to general laughter.

"Since the audience has it in for the two of you, I pronounce you wed, man and wife. As no cause was given, let each here recognize this union, and support it."

They kissed when he finished his words.

"Hey, I didn't give you permission for that."

"We don't need your permission, young buck, only your authority."

More laughter followed this.

"We have a party to get to!"

Everyone moved over to the pavilion.

***
"We have an enemy amongst us! Someone is targeting our leaders in an attempt to sow discord and dissent. We would be well served to root out this evil now before it spreads."

"You're over reacting. We have only lost a few leaders, and they could really be accidents."

"Over the past seven hundred years we have never lost more than one or two people in leadership, barring a natural disaster, every year. We have lost eight in the past four months. That is so far outside of normal occurrence to defy simple probability."

"It could still. . ."

Just because people had the ability to lead, it did not mean they checked their egos at the door. The Emperor held the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. This was going to be a very long day.

He began to hear the sound of a jet, and looked up. There were no over flights allowed here.

He got out of his chair, and rushed toward the door. "Everyone into the shelter, now!!" He had no idea why they hadn't been alerted to this long before they could hear the jet, and he feared he would never find out. He simply hoped that Michael was alright.