A Trip to Ionel

December 30, 5008, Saturday, April 28, 2005

It's a fascinatingly uninteresting flight, though not without its share of beautiful vistas. The winter ocean rolls with whitecaps under the Tsurin Kaze II, and as the airship whizzes its way over the ocean tiny white ice flows can be seen dotting the sea with temporary frozen islands. As the airship passes around the northern horn of Ithaca the icebergs grow in size to make sailing in those waters impossible, or at the very least staggeringly dangerous. But twenty hours into the journey nothing has caused the airship or her crew to worry about the safety of the vessel- there was only a single storm threat, and it was easily avoided. Now the airship is just past the mouth of Aegis Bay, north of Ionel, and her crew waits for some indication of how to proceed.

Devante comes out of his quarters, buttoning up his Class-A jacket. "Communications, do a full scan. I want to know if there is any civilian or military radio traffic in the area... Deigo, go let Mistress Takadar know she's needed on the bridge.." he says those as he moves down the interior catwalk between the gasbags, over the flight deck, as he makes his way forward to the bridge.

Deigo twirls his mustache idly with a finger. "A-yesa sira," Deigo replies, and hurries to Alane's quarters to wrap smartly on the door. The thin material echoes in her room three sharp 'Wop wop wop's.

The communications soldier replies with a quick "There is some communication down below sir. It's too jumbled up to make much out of, milord."

All of this is very exciting to Alane, though she tries not to show it too much. Her eyes are wide though, trying to take it all in at the same time. Big old blimp...gunboat and space fighter...a lot of firepower. Squads of men with guns. It's enough to make any Vargen nervous, no matter who. And the view has been amazing, along with the storm. Alane steps through the aft hatchway and moves forward to the bridge. She takes a place near Devante, staring out over the water at the distant shore, fidgeting. "You sent for me, Your Excellency?"

Devante steps on to the bridge now, the white and blue expanse of the Agiean bay spread out below him. The bridge is at the front of the nose cone, a plexiglass room at the very forward of the ship. It can see everywhere... but backwards. He returns the salute of the crew on deck. "As you were. Very good, Lt. Garcia.." he returns to the Communications man. Try and clean up the signal and bring us in another ten miles..."

He pauses for a moment, looking to the strategic map... "Ah! Ms Takadar. Please work with Lt. Garcia to see if you can translate any of the communications we are receiving and prepare to broadcast a message in vargan. In simple terms, we come in peace and request diplomatic parlay.."

"Yes sir, ten miles sir," comes the reply from the helsman. A smart salute, then the man turns to the crew. "All ahead one quarter, trim the aft ballast if you will," he calls out, directing the ship to move forward.

Alane nods, looking as pale as always, plus maybe a little more. She finds Lt. Garcia, who she assumes is the person listening to the tinny sound of Vargen voices intently, and stands nearby, also listening. And deep in thought, it would appear.

Lt. Garcia, a son of Sir Arturo de Filsan and looking not a day over sixteen, continues to tinker with the nobs in front of him, resulting in only cackling static on the radio as the airship tries in vain to work out something more than jumbled garbage in the air waves.

Devante turns his attention then to the far far distant shore. So far out and yet so close. "A cold land. Hardy. I like this place." He murmurs to himself. "Of course, with all the luck I've had at this, they will be deamon possessed sathrist republicans looking to eat my soul. BUt, on the bright side... they could also be yet another long lost house of the Empire..."

"Ten miles sir, no contact," the helmsman replies, turning from his position at the wheel. "Should I order all halt, sir?"

Devante steps forward to the map to examine their position. "All stop and keep station.. Ms. Takadar, Lt. Garcia.. send our greeting if you please."

Alane's head jerks toward Devante, as if she'd been daydreaming, and is returning to the moment at hand. She gives him a tight smile, then looks at Lt. Garcia. She steps forward to speak into the mike, giving a steady and passionless dialogue, which takes a few moments...all in Vargen. Alane blushes as she steps away.

Devante raises an eyebrow.... "And whats the translation of that, if you don't mind? Sounded... tepid."

Alane's mouth twitches just a little, and she dips her chin to the lord. "To the people within the sound of my voice, The Lord Devante Castillo of the Hazat, Privy of the Triumviral Seals, bids his warm greetings, and requests diplomatic parlay."

Devante smiles then, stepping over. "Perfect. That is perfect." he says, not having seemed to have meant any insult with it being tepid. "I suppose diplomacy is not the art of passionate discourse... but quiet discussion. This could be why I'm so remarkably unremarkable in the area..."

"No response from shore sir," Sir Garcia replies. "Radio chatter...I'm picking up a slightly increased load, sir, but other than that, we are not receiving a reply."

"I think passion should be left out of politics, when possible. Politics is...the opposite of warfare, where a rousing speech is needed to move men to action...sometimes brash action, which are called heroics. Politics requires cool heads to prevail, for the best results." Alane says quietly.

Devante nods slowly, looking to the Far-seer display, which hopefully shows nothing in the air... "Ahead one quarter. Rebroadcast every 120 seconds in both Vargan and Urthish... Come to a stop 80 miles off the larger of the cities, equidistant from the two minor ones..." He nods thoughtfully to Alane's commentary... "And you are quite correct, my friend."

"All ahead one quarter, aye sir," the helmsman replies and makes it so.

Alane repeats her message into the microphone, which sounds remarkably like the last one, with slight inflection to certain words. She steps back, waiting.

"Sir, we continue to get no response from the city." Sir Garcia is drumming his fingers in nervous anticipation. "There does appear to be more radio volume though, sir? It looks like they got the message?"

Devante nods to Garcia, then comments... "This is the part I hate. Waiting for a response. Out there..." he gestures to the shoreline.. ."there is someone who gets the message and is frantically passing it up the ladder, the chain of command and trying to avoid responsibility for it. Somewhere, the message will come to a stop on someones desk who has the authority to respond. In the mean time, we continue this little dance.. coming closer, giving it urgency. They respond or we will have a very unpredictable arrival in ionel." The conversational bit over, his tone shifts... "Continue as per last, pause at 80 for 10 minutes."

"Aye sir, passing 80 miles, all ahead one quarter," the helmsman echoes, and forward the great airship moves.

Alane continues her repetitions, when needed. But the longer they wait, the tenser she seems to get.

Devante comes to a stop next to Lt. Garcia... When the ship comes to a rest, at the 80 mile mark, he takes the Mic himself. "This is Colonel Devante Castillo, Lord Privy Seal of the Triumvirate of Vargo. I am requesting clearance to proceed to the City of Ionel for assumption of Diplomatic Relations. Please Respond."

IAC-1002a.1 transmits: something in Vargen.

IAC-1002a.1 transmits: in Vargen: Enemy airship, you are ordered to heave to immediately. All Triumvirate officials are to be sent to Ionel. Any delays will be construed as hostile intent. This is Ionel Air Command, we repeat, enemy airship is to heave to and all Triumvirate officials are to be deposited at Ionel immediately.

Devante narrows his eyes as the clear transmission comes in. He glances to Alane...

Alane cocks her head, listening to the Vargen reply, and then looks to Devante. "They say that we are to heave to immediately. All Triumvirate officials are to be sent to Ionel. No delays."

Devante purses his lips. "Is that an exact translation?" he asks, finding the vagueness of the wording to be worrysome...

"It said any delay would be construed as hostile intent." Alane says quickly.

Devante nods... "Did they offer an identifying call sign?"

"They said they were Ionel Air Command, my Lord." Alane says.

Devante nods slowly, picking up the Mic and gesturing for her to get the spare. "I'll speak, then you translate, then I'll speak again." He makes sure alane understnads him before he continues...

"Ionel Air Command, This is Devante Castillo, Commander of the Tsurin-Kazi."

A pause..

"We understand your command."

A pause...

"We will launch one air craft to ferry myself and a bodyguard detail to Ionel."

A pause.

"Please Confirm.

IAC-1002a.1 transmits again, sending across something in Vargen.

Alane leans forward, speaking between Devante's words quickly. She translates accurately. Then she listens. "They asked what our reply is. They say they have interceptors standing by. We should heave to, or signal that we are coming in, in which case they will escort us."

Devante shakes his head. "Ionel Air Command, This is the Tsurin Kaze. We will continue to Ionel and then launch a landing craft." Devante gestures for Alane to repeat it.

The helmsman waits for the order, displaying no hint of concern or doubt.

Alane repeats the message into her microphone. After she takes her thumb off the key, she turns to Devante. "We should heave to, I think." she says quietly.

Devante comments... "We are."

Devante gestures to the Helmsman, Sir Hector Jimenez... "Bring is to Ionel, half speed. Keep the Farseer active, Lt. Garcia... have the Flight in their cradles, ready to launch.. but do not launch them."

"Aye sir, half speed sir," Sir Hector gives a crisp salute, and turns back to the deck. "All ahead half, make ready the aircraft."

IAC-1002a.1 's next transmission crackles sharply across something in Vargen.
IAC-1002a.1 says "s next transmission crackles sharply across "Proceed slowly. Prepare for escort. We are to see no weapons on the ground, or else the escort will open fire.""

"We are picking up incoming aircraft, my lord," Sir Garcia calls. "Four aircraft- from the look of their signature, sir, it looks like prop aircraft."

IAC-1002a.1 says "s next transmission crackles sharply across "Proceed slowly. Prepare for escort. We are to see no weapons on the ground, or else the escort will open fire.""

Devante Exhales... now the time for talking. "IAC, this is Colonel Castillo. My bodyguards will be armed, as will I. We are not an invasion force. We see your incoming escort and thank you for it. Our ETA to Ionel is 45 minutes."

Devante gestures for Alane to rebroadcast.

Alane is silent while the transmission, angrily crackling in disapproval, gives answer. She looks at Devante and says, "They say to proceed slowly, and prepare for an escort. They will open fire on you if they see weapons on the ground." she warns sternly. But...yes, she must give reply. She speaks to the microphone in Vargen.

IAC-1002a.1 is silent.

As the silence stretches, four blips on the sensor screen continue to approach.

"Jiminez... Proceed at a steady pace. Keep the hangar bay doors closed... Let them see we are a slow, stupid bird that stays aloft by the grace of god."
Says Dev, of course.

The four aircraft zoom into view- sleek and well maintained prop fighter slip past, two on the left and two on the right. The rocket pods slung under their wings are clearly presented by their pilots as if to say 'we dare you to try anything'. And then they are forming up- two on each wing, two settling in behind the blimp in the kill zone. They appear to be taking no chances.

The Colonel comments... "Rear observers, start taking notes on those planes. I want a full report on projected capabilities ready ASAP. Engine room, maintain speed, don't give us any surprises. Communications, keep your ears open. Helm, steady as she goes."

He then steps forward to the observation dome in the forward nose. "Ever have the idea you're going in to a den of Sharks, Alane?" He asks, glancing back to her with a grin. "Just hang a porkchop around my neck..."

All is steady as she goes. But then, if something were to go wrong, the odds are good everyone on board this floating gas bag wouldn't have to dwell on their misfortune for very long before being reduced to smoking bits of fiery ash.

The city- Ionel- comes into view as the airship approaches. It's a vast metropolis of wood and stone, with a towering sea fotress that looks out over the bay and the approaches to the west, and another fortress in the city that looks like it has stood for ages. Thirty thousand people or more must live in this snow covered city and its surrounding lands.

"Yes," Alane says tightly. She fidgets with her dress. "I don't have a weapon." she says quietly, and matter of factly. It's not a tone of complaint, nor relief, though either would be appropriate.

Devante nods. "Trust me... if this goes badly... another pistol or knife will not dig us out." He pauses as he is able to see the city... "LOOK at this... Amazing... so far north.. so cold.. with -air defenses!-. If we can work with these people, we can make these people the rock by which to break the Kurgans... "

Alane smiles briefly, a bit of Vargen pride rousing whether she will or no. "Do you plan to offer to bolster their defenses then?" She asks quietly, nearly in a whisper."

Devante comments... "I plan to offer friendship first.. bolstering defenses comes later... depending on how the battle to the east here goes... the Kurgans are not here yet, instead, eating their way through the homesteaders to the east."

IAC-1002a.1 transmits again. This time, the message reads something in Vargen.

"Do you expect them to join the Triumvirate?" Alane asks, staring out the window at the spectacular, and chilling view. She turns her head in response to the transmission, then looks at Devante. "He says we are cleared to land at...the auxiliary field in Fort Karbydos? Beacon number...122, A, B2."

"Sir, shall we change heading?" asks Sir Hector.

Devante exhales... "I have very few expectations at this point, my friend, I find it limits my disappointment and surprise. I have the hope for that, yes. It would be nice if they Joined the Hazat..." He nods to Lt. Garcia to transmit acceptance in Urthish. "Slow to one quarter, make a slow turn... "

"Aye sir. Five degrees to port and hold," calls Sir Hector to the crew. "All ahead one half." The great lumbering sky-beast begins its graceless arc across the sky and towards the beacon.

Alane nods just once, and waits. Her part, for the non, is done for now. Alane brings a hand to her cheeks, feeling them with the back, and cooling them.

Devante nods to Garcia... "Perhaps you could tell them, Dear translator, that we are in route?"

Sir Garcia offers the mike, but with aircraft on each side and two behind, the odds are good they already know.

Alane smirks a little, bemused somehow. She keys the mike and speaks into it, pausing part way to ask how far out they are now. When the reply comes, she continues in Vargen, then hands the mike to Lt. Garcia.

"Sir, we are approaching the clearing," Sir Hector calls out as he relays the coordinates to Alane. "Shall we set down? It looks as though...there is a welcoming party." His wit is very very dry.

And now the waiting. "When we come to 5 miles out, hold Station at 3000 feet." commands the Viscount as he glances out the side of the ship to watch one of the planes. "Tell them we are going to release a landing craft. The forward doors will open. Please relay that, Ms. Takadar."

Tholumiyelos (Tho) pages: they are good looking aircraft. Low TL-4 prop aircraft (P-51s) but well maintained and likely with a few add ons that you can't see. Butyou're not like...and aircraft mechanic. Beyond that visual inspection is all you can really see.
You paged Tholumiyelos with 'So comparable to my planes.'
Tholumiyelos (Tho) pages: more or less. Maybe a little better, but not much.

Alane speaks to the mike, as instructed. At the same time, she cranes her neck to look down at the approaching ground, and the armed soldiers waiting there.

"Sir, your launch is ready," Sir Hector informs. "Do you have any instructions for us once you've landed?"

Devante comments simply.. "Do not open fire unless fired upon. Do not let me die. If I die, I don't know... tell them I meant well." He says with a shrug. "We go in to the sharks tank. They may bite."

Devante then starts moving, gesturing for alane, to the flight deck. "Sgt Avlarez, to my launch please."

The launch itself is a two engine commuter plane type affair, Held under the Tsurin Kaze in a modified fighter sling. It will carry Devante and 5 other people.... In this case, Dev, Alane, and four body guards.

"Aye sir," Sir Hector replies stoicly, and clasps his hands behind his back as Devante and his cohort make their way to the launch and are away.

Alane takes a deep breath, moving toward the flight deck and waiting her turn to get into the cramped sling. She mutters to herself softly, as if praying. But no words come. Only the movement of lips.

From afar, Tholumiyelos (Tho) feel free to pose taking off and landing down on the field.

Strapping in to the plane, Devante is in the pilots seat. He powers up the engines, bringing them to flame... "The take off could be a bit disconcerting, Alane, I warn you. There is a vomit bag to the side of you there. Gentlemen.." he says, now addressing the bodyguards in the rear... "Prepare for a combat drop."

THe drop itself, is a lurching thing as the clamps above the craft... just let go. Tilted downward, the plane knifes lower in the air, its engines at power and arguing with gravity who will provide more speed to the plane. From three thousand feet, theres not a whole lot of time to pull up, but Devante is a decent pilot. The plane spirals down until he pulls it level... a pass is made around the TK, a waggling of wings given, before the plane reorients to land on the field as instructed.

As the plane lands, the soldiers - there looks to be a hundred or so of them in the yard, black-uniformed and armored with rifles to hand - step forward with military precision. They aren't exactly circling the shuttle, but there are quite a few of them for an honor guard, too. Down the center - from the keep itself - walks a man in a top hat and overcoat, with a pair of men in military-style uniforms, someone in what looks like some sort of robes and someone who is clearly an aide with the same frock coat attire trailing him.

Theo Karbydos has arrived.

---

Theo Karbydos

This older Vargen man is dressed in a dignified black frock, his posture precise and perfect. He is tall, with a thin, severe face and a monocle, and his thin lips tend to press together in an expression of disapproval much of the time. He has a maroon weskit beneath his coat, and grey pants beneath that that descend to polished black shoes with white spats. A brown top hat with a slightly curled brim and a thick overcoat complete his outfit, as does the diamond-headed cane he carries in one hand.

---

The landing is smooth enough, given the unfamiliar field. Pulling to a stop, the first four men out, are the Archons of 1st Platoon, Osaka Rangers. They chock the planes wheels, then nod for the Colonel to step out of the plane.

Stepping out on to the wing, Devante Castillo pulls himself up to his full hight. A tall man, he is not at all unimpressive in stature. He moves to the ground then, taking the short drop from wing to turf. "Ms. Takadar." He offers, holding a hand back up for her.

Alane certainly makes a poor passenger at first. She squeals and clutches at the seat, the window, her stomach, anything really. Maybe Devante too. But as the plane levels out, she can relax a little, panting and hyperventilating as her blood races through her veins at a million miles per hour, driven by a heart thumping as fast as a hummingbirds. She really cannot try to relax though, till they are on the ground. Once there, Alane gets out shakily, her legs like rubber bands and ill suited for supporting in this liquid state. She takes Devante's hand gratefully, and eases down to the ground.

The man in the top hat and his aides advance a little further - the soldiers are lined up in two blocks of five columns, leaving an aisle between - and there, perhaps four rows back they draw to a halt, awaiting the Triumvirate approach.

The Archons are impressive looking, spit and polish but also just enough wear to let those who know what to look for that these men are not, not at all just for show. Waiting long enough for Alane to have her feet and have her breath, Devante then turns to the awaiting aristocrat and his military officers. "Smile pretty Alane... and be a dear.. don't tell them I'm evil and should be shot. It would be -very- ill timed." He says, a trace of mirth in his voice, a smile shared with Alane before they step off.

Alane steadies herself, looking about at the show of force. It's not just bragging. As she does so, she laughs nervously. "Ill timed. Got it." She follows behind as the lord approaches. Not to the side, but directly behind the Hazat Lord, happy to let him make his approach as he will. Once he stops, she fans out to stand alongside, her face grave as she eyes the man in the top hat, sizing him up. She doesn't manage a smile, however. But she curtsys nicely.

Once Devante and Alane are close enough, the man in the top hat clears his throat and begins to speak - in Urthish, of all things. "I am Theo Karbydos, Governor of Ionel." His tone is educated but curt, even cold. "In the name of the Senate and People of Vargo, I am placing you under arrest for high crimes committed against the senate, the people and the planet Vargo. You and your men are to surrender your weapons to Police Commissioner Vesiron here." He indicates one of the men in the quasi-military uniform. "I can assure you," he says stiffly, "that you will be treated with all due respect and given the opportunity to prepare adequately for your arraignment and trial."

Alane sighs.

Devante quirks a brow. "Well." Says Devante Castillo. "That certainly sets a tone." His voice is dry, ironic and, perhaps, an undercurrent of amusement.

The Archons pause a moment, stepping closer to Devante, but not yet using the weapons they carry.

"Greetings, Governor Karbydos. I am Devante Castillo, Lord Privy Seal of the Triumvirate of Vargo. This is not why I came. I'm not exactly in the mood to be tried for crimes I did not commit. I have ever labored in my time on Vargo, to ease the transition of Vargo from a world cut off from the jumpweb, to one being fought over by rival Star Empires. The Kurgans to the East, the Triumvirate to the South. Peace, is my preferred tool... but perhaps you've heard of the issues with the Homesteaders to the east?"

Theo holds up a hand to cut Devante off midway through his explanation of who he is and what he has done. "I am sorry, Mr. Castillo. I am not a judge. You see, we have laws here in free Vargo, not just kangaroo autocracy like you people practice down south. You'll have your opportunity to explain yourself in court - now I must ask you to surrender your weapons." He pauses. "Let's not make this uncivil."

Alane keeps quiet, and is happy to do so. Her eyes dart back and forth between Devante and Theo, gauging and judging each one's words.

Devante narrows his eyes... "Lord. Lord Castillo. I am a Lord of the Royal Hazat. I came here under flag of Parlay, of discussion. I came to you in honor... If you are so uncivil as to ignore that... Perhaps, Govenror Karbydos, I have no basis in which to trust your 'civil' and 'fair' laws?"

"Everyone is equal under the law, Mr. Castillo," Theo responds. "As for your flag of parlay, we never granted you that embassy. When you entered our space, we commanded you to heave to and land immediately under our rights as lawful government of this planet." He smiles coolly. "And frankly, sir, I don't give a damn if you trust our laws - I am content that they will give a far more fair trial than you deserve."

Devante comments to Alane... "If there is some Vargan tradition of trial by combat... nows a good time to tell me, my friend." There is another pause as he looks back to Karbydos. A long pause... "Ms. Takadar and one of my guards are going to board this aircraft and return to my ship. My ship will return home and start arranging experts to prepare my defense and arrange my legal council. These are my terms."

Alane humphs, looking somewhat amused, considering the gravity of situation. She does not answer, however, and shakes her head sadly, as if Devante might be delusional.

Devante is a noble. There's an inherent delusion in that concept.

Theo Karbydos nods. 'One of your guards is welcome to return, and your people and allies - provided they don't try to engage in military activity or otherwise behave inappropriately - will have free access to you. We will allow their craft free flight here, though I would suggest avoiding the Storm Coast. They do not respect the Senate's rule.' A beat. 'As for Miss Tadakar... I am sorry, but she is an official of the Triumvirate as well, and as a native Vargen she is particularly important. She cannot go.' He turns to look at her and says a soft word in Vargen.

"Actually, as of yet." Says the Hazat Lord... "She has not been confirmed in to any position in the Triumvirate. The Council of Keys has not yet met. -AS- such, Governor... She is not an officer of the Triumvirate. Is it a crime to be nominated for an office, or just to hold it?"

Devante is furiously thinking, trying to find some way of getting as many people out as possible...

Theo snaps angrily, "It's a crime to be a quisling, Mr. Castillo - that woman is a race traitor." It seems as if even the Governor is surprised by the venom in his voice, and so he draws a breath. "I am sorry," he says. "As I said, I am not a judge - I can assure you my feelings will not be involved."

Devante quirks an eyebrow. Race.. traitor. Thats a term he's never heard. "I'm afraid I do not know this term, Quisling. If you -Must- address me.. you can -respect- my Military Office and address me as -Colonel-. Now.. Let us keep this -civil- as you say. She holds no office. Therefor you have no right to charge her with any of your 'crimes'. She will return to my ship and return to my lands and prepare my defense."

Alane's face grows cold, and angry. "A quisling is one who panders to the conquerors, seeking favors and otherwise pandering to their wants, and in the process, betraying their own people." Alane informs Devante, then turns to Theo. "I am no quisling. You have made a lot of assumptions, and presumptions, about a lot of things." She looks sidelong at Devante. "I...I came under duress." she says, staring at Devante closely now.

"She's subject to my jurisdiction because first she is Vargen and second she - like you - is on Vargo, and Vargo is our world," Theo says heatedly. "She can present her defense in court just as - " Alane's words interrupt him, and the governor turns to her. "Under duress?" he says. "He has forced you into this? How?"

Ever seen the face of a man who just cannot quite understand what just happened?

Yeah. Thats Dev. He's silent. Cold. Deadly silent.

"What do you care? You have already judged and sentenced me. Ophel's gates, lets just get the trial underway right now, and put me out of my misery." Alane says to Theo, her eyes flashing in challenge.

"This will be a fair trial!" Theo thunders. "This will not be a lynching in the dark - not arrows in the hills, not bullets at the fords. This will be justice done, justice done /right/ and done under the eyes of the world!"

"Oh, that is what you want everyone to think. But I ask you, where would you find a fair and impartial judge? Where would you find someone who has walked the line I've had to walk, and face the future I've faced?" Alane sighs, and then somewhat smiles. "I find it ironic, though."

Devante comments simply... "I came here, hoping to open diplomatic relations to see if it were possible to coexist.. to recognize your people in the eyes of the Emperor. To work with you to repel the Kurgans who threaten both our borders... but I see that you are more interested in the political pageantry with holding a trial for one of the vaunted lords of the known worlds. I came here in Honor and Respect.. and you have slapped me. I assure you, Governor Karbydos... That I had nothing to do with the destruction of Vargo. I, personally, have had nothing to do with the forceful conquest of any vargan lands. I have at every turn, advocated peaceful negotiation, diplomacy. Such as this... but.. you are the unreasonable party here. Alane Takadar gets on that plane and leaves, or I draw my blade here and all you have is a puddle."

Some one hundred rifles make an eerie metallic echo as soldiers ready arms and chamber rounds. Suddenly, what was once just a show of force and solidarity against the Known World noble has transformed into a very real threat one twitching finger away from the largest firing squad execution Ionel has ever seen.

In a blink of an eye the Archons have their weapons raised as well- it's more instinct then reason, and also part bravado. No sense in just getting shot down like a dog, after all- might as well take one or two with you. But there is little four can do against twenty five times their number.

Alane takes another deep breath, and grimaces. "No!" she shouts. "I'll stay, and go on trial. I stand by what I've done, and I believe anyone here would do the same. My lord, please tell your men to put down their weapons."

Devante glances to Alane, one hand on his sidearm, the other, drawing his sword. "I gave my oath to protect you. To you and to the church. I'll be damned to Ghenne, or Ophel if you please, if I allow dishonorable, Short sighted republicans with no sense of fairness have me break that word. My word is ALL I have. My name is Devante Juan Domingo Castillo, I am of the Dulcinia Line... As are these men with me. HONOR before all, Alane..." So with that, Devante turns back to Governor Karbydos... "Make your choice, Governor."

"Lower your weapons, Mr. Castillo," Theo says with a shake of his head. "I do not need to make a choice - she has made hers."

Alane shakes her head sadly, and takes a step away from Devante. "You don't understand. Have your men put down their weapons." she croaks, her brow furrowed. "Unless you want to die right here. You, your men..." she does not include herself, for reasons known perhaps only to her.

Yeah. He's not so good on that whole 'concealing ones reaction' thing. NOt exactly a born liar, Devante. When Alane moves away, out of the line of fire... it deflates the Hazat. It takes the wind right out of his sails... He doesn't understand what would possess Alane to do that... He's done everything he could for her. Rescued her from the church. Gave her a chance to effect change. Protected her. And here, when the chips are down? She shows her true colors. It's chilling to the Hazat. His face goes through a series of quick emotions. Confusion. Realization. Sorrow.. then Anger. Anger surfaces quickly.

"Efram. On the plane. Return home and speak with Shin. Go." His words are cold. Very, very cold. Spoken while looking directly at Alane. If there were ever a woman on this planet who will be dead in a very viceral fashion.. it will be Alane Takadar.

There's momentary confusion from the Archons, who lower their guns just a little bit with a look to Devante for instructions. Efram, as ordered, is making for the plane - and at a look from Theo, soldiers are parting to let him pass.

Alane appears unafraid, and unapologetic. She looks sullenly at Devante, and glares at Theo.

Devante turns then to the Governor. Alane ceases to exist. "Well then. Lets get this show on the road, shall we, Mr. Karbydos?"

"Mr. Castillo, if you would please disarm and do so likewise. You will understand that under the circumstances we cannot offer you your recognizance, and so we will have a suite prepared for you and yours - one of the towers in the keep, here, should have rooms and privacy enough for all of you and for the establishment of your defense." Theo says. "I will take you there as soon as you have surrended your weapons and the Commissioner has read you in."

Devante comments simply... "My Firearms, you may have. My blade, you may have only with force. This is the way of things. Accept them as you will."

Alane says something in Vargen.

Theo Karbydos laughs at whatever Alane said. It says something in Vargen. He turns to Devante. 'I am afraid I must ask you to surrender your sword as well,' he says. 'The law does not distinguish between deadly weapons, and you have already drawn it once when the law did not go your way.'

Devante nods. "Then bring your men to get it." He says, not having re-sheathed it from when he drew it. "It will not go well for them. You have your laws. I have mine. This is the way of things. You have shown no respect today. You continue to display contempt. As such, I can have no respect for you or your men. I cannot give my blade to inferior men. If you wish my blade, you must take it."

You say, "This.. is the way of things.""

Alane winces, and turns to Theo again, speaking in her native tongue once more.

Alane says something in Vargen.

Theo listens to what Alane says, and his face tightens - but it's a look around at the others with him - others who seem more amenable to Alane's words - that forces a nod. "If it is important to you, I will allow you to send it back with your men, so that it can be with your family."

Devante slides his thumb up and over the guard of his downturned blade. A slight smile tugs at his lips. "My blade comes from my hand only when I am defeated. So long as I am treated with respect, it may stay sheathed. It may be a blade of of symbols, of station. But when I am wronged... when I am disrespected, it becomes a tool of station. Like your police chief there. You wield him like I wield this blade. I have shown you honor. I have shown you respect. You have returned none of it. Bring your men. Let them disarm me."

He turns his feet slightly, assuming a simple, not quite combat, but still, to a trained man, a very combat capable stance. The blade rises, a guarding position, Japanese in its stance. "To little respect. To late. I will try to avoid hurting your men too badly as they disarm me. I dislike needless death... your men serve honorably, even if they are not serving an honorable man."

The governor turns to the police commissioner. "Call the special squad," he says quietly, and there's motion with a squawker on the policeman's part. Theo just waits, guns still pointed at Devante, and Devante's men's guns still pointed back. "This would go easier if you ask your men to disarm," he says. "You we can subdue. Them we will be forced to kill - and as you say, needless bloodshed."

Devante speaks low.. "Diego. Alexander. Marco. Get on the plane. Go with Efram. If anyone tries to stop you.. Do not let them."

Alane sighs a deep sigh, and turns away. She looks about, fingering the cloth on her sleeve thoughtfully. She wonders if, in all this excitement, she can slip out of sight unnoticed. She edges away.

"Don't make this mistake," Theo says. "Come now, Mr. Castillo - is this what you want? Is what you want for my men to open fire, and your men to die, and you to charge at me with that sword of yours only to get cut down by gunfire? There are one hundred men here, and you and yours make four."

Devante smiles, his neck cracking in the crisp, cold air. "You have shown yourself to hold no basic respect or courtesy. You are a republican barbarian, no better than the Mercedes who truck with the dark. Even my supposed Cousin, Sharls Imandoura has shown greater honor than you... and I war with him to the south. You may have my firearms. This is my courtesy to you. You may not have my blade. This is my honor. This seems somehow, more complex than it is."

"I am following the law," Theo says. "You do not get special exceptions for your honor - where is your honor when you take from the people?" He shakes his head. "If those soldiers move, shoot them." He looks at Devante. "Mr. Castillo, the commissioner has called for men with stunners. When they arrive, they will shoot you with them. I imagine your soldiers will open fire, and they will die and some of my men will die, and as you lie twitching on the ground the commissioner will take your sword. Surely your..." A distasteful expression. "Your "honor" does not require the death of your own men? Or does the vaunted pride of the offworlder extend even so far?"

Devante chuckles as he holds his position. "That is one way this can happen. Or you can let my men pass. Let Alane Takadar Pass. Return to the ship... and return to their units.. Show -honor- Where I have given it... and I can then give you my sword. Truly, how much do you value YOUR mens lives? We are Hazat. I am unafraid of death. It will claim me when the Pancreator chooses. I have experienced far worse punishments than I think you or your men can give me. I have offered you a peaceful solution."

You say, "THe problem, is you have no honor as of now. I offer the chance for you to redeem that perception.""

"I'm not going to shoot your men," Theo says. "If they shoot at me, we'll put them down. If you want them to leave, I will allow it. You and Miss Tadakar are my prisoners - I am not going to try soldiers for their masters' orders. I will wait, and in short order you will be stunned." He looks over at Alane.

Theo Karbydos says something in Vargen.

Long distance to Alane: Devante nods. It would be an ignominious death. But my death none the less.

Devante exhales, thinking that over. "Done. Archons, -MOVE-."

Alane folds her arms, wishing like everything she could disappear.

Devante then says very clearly... "Alane Takadar. By choosing of your own will to remain... you absolve me of all responsibility for your care. I will not provide for your defense nor for your safety." With that, the Hazat spins the blade quickly, flashing in the sun and snow. There is the slide of wood on metal as the ancient blade clicks home.
Alane says something in Vargen.

Alane turns to look at Devante, nodding once. "Fine. Thank you." she says.

"If you will give Commissioner Vesiron your sword," Theo says quietly. "We can end this now."

Devante shakes his head. "Alas sir.. You must come forward, and take my blade. I am giving myself in to -your- care." He removes the scabbard from his belt, taking it and holding it in both hands. "Come now. You have earned it."

Hesitation - almost fear, that Devante will strike him - and then acquiescence as Theo steps forward to reach for the blade. "Very well," he says.

Devante offers it over, no resistance. "This is how men of Honor behave. I am honored that you have accepted me as your mentor in this matter. Let us go."

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