You give the nod to yourself. Instead of the Outlander clothing, you dress in a SEED military uniform. After you finish lacing the boots and buttoning the shirt, you pull on the belt, tightening the blue sash around your slim waist. The capelet drapes over your shoulder, and after a glance in the mirror, you step out the door.
"Damn." Emma murmurs.
"Pay up." Cephie giggles, as credits exchange hands.
The services drag on, as they often do. You sit in the front of the crowds but keep your distance from them and the center stage. Instead, you try your best to look imperious, listening to them preach and pontificate. You hear them call out sinners and heretics, those that would deny you. Then theres the lessons about health and wellbeing.
You find it amusing that the scientific data shared is about the damages of alcohol on the liver and the damage of other drugs on the brain. You feel like Minister Sterling is trying to say something.
You rise from your chair during one of the recesses, stretching your long limbs and heading out the door, when Minister Mellone intercepts you. The council is waiting for you.
You stride into the chamber, taking your place at the head of the table, and sit patiently until the emissary enters. Stocky, with thick muscles, a long reddish-brown beard, and dark eyes. His outfit is of wools and leathers, and a long, bone-handled knife hangs off his belt. His guards are dressed the same, except for the las-guns at their shoulders. Your bodyguards quietly, tensely consider them as they enter.
"Greetings -- It is a gift to be met with on such short notice, Pheonix of the Holylands. May I present the emissary of Khan Samkrend: [Khudal, lit falsehood, prank, fool] Of The City Clan."
Khudal is younger than his announcer, and dressed in lavish cashmere, with insect silks and well-tooled leathers. Tall, dark-skinned, with a cold, calculating stare that finds you in an instant. His hair, unlike the others, is pitch black.
"[What a poor reception.]" Khudal complains to his herald in the Outlander Tongue while smiling at you. "[Why do we seek to ally with these priestly paupers?]"
"Khudal says you are truly masters of hospitality."
"[And she isn't even wearing the gift -- too freewilled, I would think.]"
"He says you look wonderful in the silks of the Outland, your highness."
"[Ask her what she might offer us, if we were to ally, besides too many mouths to feed.]"
"Khudal wishes to how an alliance would be beneficial? For both of us. In your own words."
Isela and Mellone look uncomfortable, but hold their tongues. Emma frowns quietly.