Vilantia, Throne City, Ministry of Culture

Gryzzk was not pleased at the current events, but after a moment he realized he really had nobody to blame but himself for his current predicament. He'd come in rather theatrically, told Hoban to ignore the rules, and strode into the ministry as if the building was personally offensive. During all that time he'd been recorded, with those recordings making a wildfire's advance through the Localgrid - of course the press would react.

O'Brien cleared her throat. "Any chance your gods would bless us with a side passage out of here?"

"Not that I'm aware of. In hindsight, I should have requested Hoban loiter and meet us at the minister's shuttle pad."

"I'll remind you next time you bring me along to assault a ministry building. For now, the piper wants his creds." O'Brien fell into step behind Gryzzk as he pulled the door open.

There was instant chaos as every microphone in the city was shoved into his face to capture his voice and scent while a dozen questions were thrown at him. During this melee O'Brien stood calmly behind him, scanning the area as the cacophony died down.

"Freelord, does this have anything to do with the announcement from the Minister of Culture just now that there will be an event at Vilantianic Stadium in three days?"

Gryzzk decided in that moment that combat was preferable to a press conference. "It does."

Another question came in from another direction. "Do you expect to be there?"

"I do." The other option was untenable on several levels. However if he knew the Ministry, there would be several blockades set before he would be allowed his proper place. Even imagining the consequences of failure caused his breath to quicken.

"What exactly is happening?"

"It is a matter of clan and honor. I would ask that you defer questions for the moment - " Gryzzk began to press forward almost apologetically. "I fear I must return to my ship, as myself and the Sergeant Major have duties to attend." He held up a hand. "Please, I understand that this is...not entirely satisfying, but I promise I will speak to you again when events permit."

The last question came in with all the grace of a hurled grenade. "Does this mean that the Ministry of Culture will be formally recognizing you as a Lord?"

That one sentence hit harder than a Greatlord's challenge glove. Gryzzk had to pause for a moment to recover his thoughts and speech. "I'm afraid you'll have to ask Minister Larine that question. I cannot claim to know or speak for the Ministry." There was a slight smile as he pressed through, the crowd parting more as O'Brien followed behind waving away the less earnest and growling curses and shaking her cane at the more earnest members of the press. It was a job, but they eventually made it to the ministry carriage stand.

The whole situation was overwhelming him to the point that he didn't even know where he wanted to go - part of him said he wanted to go to the Grand Warrior, but he wasn't dressed for such a thing. Finally he requested the driver to go the spaceport, and then tapped his rank for a channel to Rosie.

"Hole-ey fuck that was funnier than a zamboni on fire, Freelord."

"Your confidence is noted, Rosie. Who's left on the ship?"

"Hoban, Miroka, Patty, the Cottles, Kiole, and Gro'zel. I played a recording of the Sergeant Major's safety briefing and dismissed the rest of the company. The ones I just mentioned have elected to remain aboard for various reasons."

Gryzzk frowned. "I will require a pilot shortly."

"I'll tell Miroka. Hey did you know that Moncilat like to use their claws when they smash?"

"Why am I being burdened with this knowledge, Rosie?" His voice and scent became wary of the incoming fact he could have remained pleasantly ignorant of for the rest of his days.

"Wellll....Hoban was warned. But he was thinking other things when she said 'bring protection' and now Doc Cottle's got Hoban in medbay while Other Doc Cottle is in Miroka's quarters lecturing the poor lady. I'll send Miroka your way shortly, Hoban's gonna be out of commission for a couple hours and she needs a break."

Gryzzk looked around. "Sooner would be preferred. I may have been responsible for a ruckus."

"Could you describe the ruckus sir?" Rosie seemed amused.

"I ah, struck a Greatlord three times and knocked out two of his teeth." Gryzzk hurriedly added, "In my defense, I forgot to bring a proper glove for the occasion."

"That's it, we're bringing hockey to Vilantia."

Gryzzk looked around nervously. "I think we have brought enough to Vilantia for one day. And ahm, please hurry. I should very much like to dodge the press. We were not exactly...secretive."

There was silence for a moment. "Miroka is boarding a shuttle. We are cleared for pad ninety-four."

O'Brien nodded grimly, leaning on the cane a touch. "Alright, let's get our asses moving before the gods-damned press figures out where we fucked off to."

Gryzzk nodded and the two made their way toward the landing pad, which was distant and blissfully free of anyone with a microphone. The pair sat, breathing heavily and keeping their eyes in motion.

It took all of a minute before Gryzzk caught a vague scent. "Oh...brace yourself, sergeant major." O'Brien looked around, her cane and posture immediately shifting to a defensive pose.

The figure that emerged from behind a crate was slim and quite familiar to Gryzzk - though they'd never met face to face. Lodora of the Vilantian Daily Planet approached cautiously with her hands visible and fur only slightly askew due to her hiding among a few crates. She wasn't accompanied by a camera operator, so this was at least an informal greeting. She nosed forward slightly before retreating, as if uncertain what reaction her presence would elicit.

"Apologies Freelord, sergeant. Minister Aa'Criar sends her regards and wishes for your health. She also requested you call ahead prior to visiting again so she could make time for you. Do you have plans for this afternoon?"

"My original intent was to take my wife and daughter to Victory Park, and then after my daughter was in bed we would return to the Grand Warrior - assuming the company hasn't been banned from the premises."

O'Brien cleared her throat softly. "Major, I remind you that this nice-enough looking lady has a job to do."

The sergeant major received a soft chuckle in reply. "I am quite aware. She has been in the homes of Vilantia for many years. Truth be told, I am surprised to see her without her desk in front of her. Even at Homeplate, we receive delayed broadcasts."

Lodora's scent flushed slightly. "You honor me. But as the sergeant major observes, I have a job to do. Before I say more I must say in confidence that the Ministry of Communication is invested in your success."

"Howso?"

Lodora looked around cautiously for a moment, her lacquered professionalism easing. "The Ministry is and has been everywhere from cradle to grave. In the time of the Twenty-ninth Throne, there was a realization that the Ministry of Culture was far more potent a force than was viable for a functioning society and began taking generational steps to curtail its place. As the beneficiaries of this imbalance, the Ministry was loathe to give up their position. This is only the latest battle as Ministries seek a niche higher than the others."

Gryzzk shook his head. "I wish no part of a battle between ministries."

"And yet here you are, whether you wish it or not - much like me." There was a disarming sort of smile on her face; one that Gryzzk recognized as the one that came after series of questions that had been meticulously crafted and now awaited a response.

Stolen novel; please report.

Gryzzk exhaled softly. He was being manipulated, after a fashion. The hell of it was he knew he was being manipulated, and there really wasn't much he could do. He rubbed his forehead. "Would the Ministry of Communication's representative care to have a lunch interview tomorrow? I have to tell our client the schedule might be interrupted. I would say this evening but I have a prior commitment."

Lodora inclined her head. "Of course. Tonight is for your company. The Ministry will contact your ship with a proposal of arrangements. Until then."

O'Brien waited until Lodora had left before speaking. "Sir, are you sure that running dick-first into a minefield is a good plan?"

"No, it is not. However, I think I would like to have my family accompany me to this interview."

There was a facial expression of deep thought from O'Brien. "Fair enough. I mean they play dirty, you play dirty right back. Meanwhile, I can hear the Damask Rose coming in."

The pair boarded to a shuttle filled with a scent of shame overriding the faint scent of blood and pleasantly aromatic oils as Miroka took the shuttle up to the ship sedately. All the while her attention was fixed directly on the board when she wasn't checking the viewscreen. They broke through the clouds and Gryzzk was able to take a moment to appreciate the blue melting to black as their shuttle left the atmosphere. He paused, realizing he could count on one hand the number of times he'd left his homeworld. Then there was an inward chuff as he realized that about half the time he left the planet he was in no condition to truly appreciate the majesty before him.

As they docked and prepared to exit, Miroka tried to remain behind. "Sir, there are...post-flight checks that need to be done."

"We have three other shuttles that are functional. In addition, I believe myself and the Sergeant Major require enlightenment regarding a personal matter. Ordinarily I would not ask, however Captain Hoban's current location makes it difficult to remain ignorant."

Miroka swallowed hard, her mortification growing and making her voice hesitant and difficult to hear. "Ah. Ahm. Er. Well. Moncilat fur is thick, and well, during well, intimacy the extension of our claws is a sign of closeness. We tend to reflexively grip...and...normally for other species we remember to not be - as aggressive. But when he arrived with only...ah." She paused, searching for a proper term. "Essentials...I felt a, connection. And I was not as careful. As I should have been." She paused, looking anywhere but at her slightly embarrassed commanding officer and the senior non-commissioned officer whose expression had morphed to silence but her scent was side-splittingly amused at something.

Gryzzk cleared his throat. "Sergeant Major, you have an official opinion?"

O'Brien took a breath. "Officially, I can't condone actions that result in an injury. Unofficially? Hoban had it coming."

There was a pause for Rosie to chime in from all three of their rank insignia. "Phrasing!"

O'Brien shook her head and continued. "I've had quite enough education for one day. I'll meet you at the Grand Warrior this evening, Major." She then walked off, shaking her head and muttering something about daft horny pilots being a universal.

There was a slight headshake as Gryzzk made a motion. "Corporal, if you'll accompany me, we should visit medical. I'm sure that Captain Hoban would appreciate some time with you."

"I am...unsure in that regard."

"The only way to find out what's in a can is to open it, Miroka." Gryzzk smiled a bit at his junior pilot.

She nodded before they walked to medbay, where both Cottles were applying foam bandages to Hoban's back and arms. As for Hoban himself, he seemed a bit off-kilter, grinning weakly at Gryzzk and then brightening considerably when he saw Miroka.

"Captain. May I safely assume a lesson was learned today?"

Hoban responded with a thumbs-up gesture. "Worth it." Then he beckoned Miroka over. "It's okay..."

Gryzzk looked over at Doc Cottle. "Doctor?" He moved to a quieter location as Other Doc clucked softly at the collective work - from a passing glance it seemed as if Hoban's back was more bandage foam with intermittent patches of skin.

The older man seemed amused as he spoke to Gryzzk. "Superficial damage, he just needs rest and fluids. Nothing that'll keep him from duty in a couple days. He's off the roster tonight and tomorrow and if needed Rosie can remote-pilot. When I told him he was on bed rest he asked if it could be Miroka's." Cottle shook his head as he inhaled from his infuser, filling the air with a mint scent. "Kids these days."

"This must be what going mad feels like." Gryzzk rubbed the bridge of his nose for a moment. "Can we look forward to more visits like this?"

"Nah. Miroka promised she'd wear gloves next time. If there is a next time, which I think Hoban's okay with. You might want to have a quiet word with Yomios, though. Just in case."

"Duly noted, Doctor. I'll leave you you to your patient." With that, Gryzzk went to his quarters to change into something less conspicuous for the surface.

In his quarters, he found Kiole reading a story to Gro'zel, with her right arm free of the prosthetic - it seemed that having two hands was tied to work for her in some way. It seemed to be a Hurdop fable of some sort.

"...but the Lord was unhappy with this, and said so; to which servant replied 'I know you have a care for your stomach oh Lord, but I cannot digest your meat for you.' The Lord heard this and realized this was truth, and never enjoyed a finer meal in all his days."

Gro'zel giggled. "That Lord was silly."

"He was at that, Little One. And now that Papa is here, we're going to the park with him."

"Is Papa a silly Lord?"

"Well, he is a Freelord. But yes he is silly sometimes."

Gryzzk cleared his throat. "I am standing right here."

Kiole looked up and waved. "We know." There was a faint grin. "Now scoot to your room, we're going to dress to go play."

Gro'zel jumped up and down. "I like it." She then hurried to her quarters, allowing Gryzzk and Kiole a moment alone.

Gryzzk settled for a moment before Kiole came up behind him to wrap her arms around him. The two leaned comfortably into each other before she spoke.

"Your scent is in many fields, twilight warrior."

"It is. I owe a debt to Sergeant Reilly, and I fear I will not be able to pay. If I fail in this, we will be weakened - every Lord with ambition will put forth a challenge to disassemble the clan we have built. If that happens, the Legion will be all but disbanded. We will have built so that others without the wit to see the price will prosper. If that happens, the Ministry of War may think themselves ready for another war to take Terran lands. If that happens, I fear for us as a people - the Terrans may see the Hurdop as a different color of fur with the same ambition and put them to the sword."

Kiole nuzzled into his neck for a long moment. "If. The only meaningful thing that you've said. Prepare your soul for loss, but follow the scent of victory. For now, victory's scent leads you to be with your wife and child, the closest of your clan. From there, your mind will know what is right." She stood, moving to his wardrobe with a little excess sway of her hips. "Now then, the mighty Freelord requires something to wear."

Gryzzk shook his head. "This must be what going mad feels like."

There was debate, but Gryzzk was finally dressed in something that wasn't eye-catching or lead anyone to think that he was anything but a husband and father. Finally the three landed and made their way by carriage to Victory Park. There Gryzzk began a visit to what seemed to be an alternate dimension of some sort.

The bushes around the park had been accentuated with several varieties of roses, including twilight roses. Seeing the small purple flowers made Gryzzk feel a touch more comfortable given their association with his ship, but not extremely so. Gro'zel and Kiole each took a hand as they entered, and Gryzzk scented something odd and familiar from the east.

They found most of the bridge squad staring at a blood-onyx statue, black stone with thin red lines of lightning traced through, positioned on the eastern side of the park and facing west. Gryzzk looked up at himself grimly riding a Terran horse with both he and the horse armored in the fashion of the First Generation. Statue Gryzzk held the Clan Tebul spear raised high in victory over his head. They'd accented the edges of the statue in War Ministry red with touches of purple here and there. The scent was fresh from the statue but the squad was amused. The base of the statue held a dedication plaque indicating that this and its sibling at the west were generously gifted to the citizens of Vilantia by the War Ministry, and at the corners someone had placed sigils for the Ministry of War, the Throne, and at the lower corners the sigil of Legion and the Freeclan.

Gryzzk blinked, taking the whole sight in with significant unease with his whole world slowly seeming to unravel. "Son of a bitch."

Kiole leaned into him, amused that her husband would allow such profanity while Gro'zel detached herself from his hand and raced forward, taking in the scent and sight excitedly. "Papa is that you?!"

"This. This is what going mad feels like." Gryzzk's jaw went slack at the scene as the bridge squad noticed and came over to nudge him forward.

Laroy took a step back and looked over at Gryzzk. "Major...y'wanna tell me why there's a bigass statue of you lookin' at me like I owe 'im something?"

Reilly smirked as she regarded the statue. "I think they captured him, y'know. Captured his essence. No saddlebags with his balls nestled gently inside, so that's kinda disappointing. But overall not bad."

Gryzzk shuffled his feet, trying to guide his family and his squad to somewhere other than where a statue of him stood. "Could we do...anything else?"

His two gunners looked at each other and shrugged casually before O'Brien spoke. "This. This is something that warrants a moment's consideration."

Edwards gave Larion a gentle nudge. "Say something, man."

"I think we should go to the other statue. Perhaps viewing both will allow us a totality of seeing what's happening." Larion appeared to be not unlike a rodent in the road, uncertain which direction was best. "....his eyes keep following me."

There were murmurs of agreement, and they all shuffled to the other side of the park where there was a second statue. This second consisted of all the members of Gryzzk's family in dawnstone - white with gold and silver veins shot through, with both Grezzk and Kiole each holding an infant in their outer arm. The positions were almost mirrored, with each mother resting an arm on a daughter - Kiole's half-arm was accurate. The collective expressions and underlying scent were anticipatory joy. It almost looked like they'd posed for a holo-snap, and then an artisan had sculpted them and dressed them in the clothing of the First Generation. A similar dedication and sigil-marking was found. Kiole looked a bit embarrassed, but Gro'zel promptly clambered onto the statue and gave each figure a forehead-touch.

Reilly smirked at Gryzzk. "You have any critiques for us?"

There was a headshake in reply. "I should very much like to know how much rum it's going to take to make me forget this exists."

"There's not enough liquor and therapy in the whole 'verse to undo this. Sorry boss."

"Well...we did come to enjoy the afternoon. I would prefer we do that rather than continue exploring this eerie situation." Gryzzk shook his head, quite certain that the gods were chortling over what was to come.

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