Dwalf Daer Dershin was sweating bullets. The past three weeks had been the longest of his career- no, his entire life. Everything had to be perfect, beyond perfect even! The right drapes, the proper decorations, fresh oil wax or all the affixtures and furniture, and of course, the twenty-four course post-ceremony meal circuit with the matching wine palettes. Everything had been fine tuned and secured with a sinister accuracy, and now, at last, the main event was upon Dershin and his six-hundred person staff. Soon, all eyes would be on the elder gentlemen's handiwork, and the greatest aesthetes would make or break what would be, in truth, the largest project undertaken in the community for several years. It was nerve-racking day for a nerve-racked event planner.
Doren frowned. Despite his own disciplinary regiment, the sight of the vacant throne filled his heart with grief and anguish. The previous attempt to retrieve the late Empress had ended with the ultimate disaster: regicide. Vassyl had wept many a private and bitter tear in the aftermath of the Xilkarth campaign. And, all the while, mounting suspicions of insurrection and civil permeated the mind of the young Captain, and the other various servicemen and women throughout the fleet. They needed a solution, and fast. The alternative, if it came to fruition, would be nothing short of a total bloodbath. Hopefully, whatever this emergency meeting was, it held some measure of a solution to the present issue.
And indeed, it was a gathering on a unprecedented scale. Doren himself stood in assembly beside the head of each of the nine main battle groups. Situated behind him the general chiefs of staff for the army, and row upon row of other key military personnel. In another column to Vassyl's right, the representatives of High Command held a similar, patient stance, though the Grand Admiral himself was conspicuously absent. Several other formations of troops and personnel filled the large antechamber on either side. Special repuslorlift units hovered a handful of feet above the main procession, housing the various members of the Moff Council. One or two units had been prepared for Echani dignitaries, if they elected to attend the occasion.
Special mezzanine seating overlooked the main interior within side alcoves, and had been readied for well-regarded nobility and the premier corporate figures within the Empire. The CEO of Black Star Industries would be most welcome there. Once everyone had been gather and put into place, the Imperial standard was released over the dormant seat of power, and the lighting was adjusted to call attention to either of the backstage exits surrounding the royal dais. Then, an automated announcement pierced the air, [All guests please stand by: the audience will begin shortly]. Murmurs flitted about the expansive hall. An audience, with whom? Or perhaps, more importantly, for whom?
