Libra

1

Duke Richelieu de Aquitaine glared at Duke Javier de Lorraine across the wide conference table. His expression screamed How dare you suggest splitting up the Duchy of Champagne between us! It belongs to me. I have the rights to the whole duchy, but his words were more tempered when he spoke. I do not agree that it is a viable solution that you are offering — neither for us, nor for the citizens of Champagne. Confusion will reign with the division.

They sat in a conference room in the palace, which stood in the centre of Nouveau Paris, the capital of Franconia, the main planet of Delta Pavoni. Also at the table were Prince Léon Plantagenet of Franconia and Lord Chancellor Pierre, of the Duchy of Champagne.

I don’t consider it a problem, Javier said.

No, no, no. That will not do, Prince Léon interjected. The Constitution of Delta Pavonis states that we cannot subdivide an established duchy.

Javier looked at the prince. Well, how are we meant to agree on who will control the duchy? He heaved a sigh and added, Are you sure Duke Olivier had no heir at all? Not even a bastard?

There is no heir, said the prince. And don’t presume they haven’t searched. I agree it would all be much easier for everyone if there was.

Why can’t we just rule ourselves, like we originally proposed? Lord Chancellor Pierre said, leaning forward, pleading.

Richelieu looked at him. He can’t be serious. What a preposterous idea! He didn’t understand why Léon had even asked the Lord Chancellor to the meeting. The negotiations were progressing poorly enough without the plebeians assuming they had any power. He sighed, wondering what Javier’s actual intentions were. He felt sure he didn’t really want the duchy. His own was large enough as it was. The only claim he had to it was through some long-lost family connection, one so far back that it didn’t qualify as direct lineage.

You can’t rule yourselves as a democracy, Prince Léon said patiently to the Lord Chancellor, his tone condescending. I’ve told you this before. The Constitution doesn’t allow it.

That settles it then. I’ll take it all, Javier piped up, looking directly at Richelieu, a challenging glint in his eye.

Richelieu went black with rage. I’ll send my military in before I let you have it!

Javier laughed. Don’t be ridiculous. We both know you can’t afford a war. Your economy is in enough trouble without that.

Richelieu conceded that Javier was right. He really didn’t have the finances to start a war with the likes of the Duchy of Lorraine.

You’re not having a war in Champagne, Pierre spurted out, his face crimson red.

Calm down, Richelieu said, waving his hand at him. No one’s fighting in your territory. At least, not yet. He cast a wary eye at Javier. This is going nowhere. Listen. Aquitaine is right next to Champagne. It would be easy to annex such a small duchy. Lorraine is on the opposite side of the planet. How on Franconia are you going to manage running it remotely?

Javier studied the fingernails on his left hand, as if he had lost interest in the conversation, absently picking under the nail of his little finger. He lifted the hand to his mouth and blew at it to remove a particle and brushed it off his shirt. I would manage.

It’s impractical.

This wouldn’t have anything to do with the wealth that you could strip from it, would it?

Richelieu suddenly stood, fed up with Javier’s prodding. This is ridiculous. I will not stay here, if that’s what we have to put up with.

Sit down, Prince Léon said. Richelieu sat. It wouldn’t do to insult the prince. Léon sighed. We’re not getting anywhere, as I thought might happen. He looked at both Javier and Richelieu. You two go away and do some more thinking. Both of you come up with a proposal on how controlling the duchy would benefit the duchy and the planet. I’ll look at them and decide.

Hello, I’m here, Pierre said. They all looked at him. Surely we have a say in it.

No, you don’t, Léon said bluntly.

Pierre’s mouth dropped open as his face reddened again.

Now, we have to prepare for the Senate Opening Dinner tonight. I take it you will both be there?

Yes, Richelieu said.

I wouldn’t miss it for the world, Javier said. My wife enjoys these little dinners immensely. What about you, Richelieu? You bringing that grouchy old mother of yours?

Richelieu refused to be provoked. She’s not coming tonight, no. I’m bringing someone else.

She let you off the leash then? Javier’s interest was piqued. Who’s this mysterious date? Someone I know? Has Mother vetted her?

That’s enough, Javier, Léon butted in. He would not allow his own family to be mocked in his presence.

Javier shrugged, unable to remove the smirk from his face.

One day you’ll go too far, Richelieu said, pointing his finger at Javier as he rose to leave.

One must have a hobby. Javier stood up too.

Richelieu cast his eyes up to the heavens as though asking for restraint and walked out. He and Javier had known each other since boyhood but Javier had the knack of getting under his skin, and Richelieu resented how easily he could get him worked up. It was almost a sport to Javier. He wished he had thicker skin sometimes, but it wasn’t in his nature. His sensitivity won him no praise from his mother, although it seemed to go down well with his constituents.

Returning to the limousine flier, he sat back as the chauffeur flew him back to his Nouveau Paris residence. He closed his eyes to think. What sort of proposal could he put together to convince the prince that he had the right to take control of Champagne? Deciding not to worry about it for the rest of the day, he opened his eyes again and asked the steward to pour him a bourbon. He sipped on that for the rest of the journey.

2

Y ou stood up to that bully then? Richelieu’s mother, Camille of Aquitaine, asked as she barged uninvited into Richelieu’s office in their Nouveau Paris residence. Are you finally getting what’s rightfully yours?

The residence sat on the outskirts of the capital on a large estate. Other dukes had similar residences scattered around the city where they lived when the Senate of Franconia sat for business. Richelieu’s office was located on the first floor of the residence, as far away from his mother’s living space as possible, but she managed to negotiate the distance at her age with uncanny frequency all the same. The office sported wooden-panelled walls and a fresco ceiling, reminiscent of the decor of Renaissance France on Earth. His baroque desk of solid oak contrasted with the interface tablet he used to access his data hive and communication messages.

Richelieu sighed. He didn’t need his mother badgering him as well, not today after the fruitless meeting. No, Mother. We are still discussing it.

What’s wrong with you? You need to stand up to Javier. You’re soft, just like your father. And where did that get him? Nowhere. You need to become a man. Maybe you could get a decent wife then.

Camille’s late husband had adored her, but she thought him useless and resented the arranged marriage her parents (the then Prince and Princess of Franconia) had negotiated from the very first day. She could tell her husband had no backbone to him. The other dukes ran all over him, making her the embarrassment of the planet. She thought she had hope in rectifying the situation when Richelieu came along, and she could personally mentor and coach him, but she was now having doubts about him too. Maybe it ran in the bloodline.

Mother! Richelieu jumped from his seat and stared at her, enraged.

Camille stared back obstinately.

Unable to maintain the contest of wills, Richelieu looked away. I’m getting ready for the dinner party. He walked out, leaving his mother to her own devices.

She smiled as he disappeared from view. Seeing the interface still active, she crept around the desk and looked at the messages her son had received. Several interested her and she read them closely, looking up occasionally to see if Richelieu was returning. She frowned at two messages that made unflattering comments about her, noting the senders. Not wanting to be caught snooping, she looked briefly around the office for any other useful information and left.

3

Richelieu’s butler knocked on the door of his dressing room as his valet helped him prepare for the Senate Dinner.

Come, Richelieu called.

The butler opened the door and stood in the doorway. Your dinner escort has arrived, sir. I have shown her to the library to wait for you.

Very good. You haven’t told Mother? I don’t want her sticking her needles into her before we’ve even gotten to know each other. Catching the fleeting amusement between the butler and the valet, Richelieu instantly regretted his indiscretion.

No, sir. I have made sure of her ignorance.

Very good. I won’t be long.

The butler closed the door again, leaving Richelieu to continue with his dressing. His valet straightened his uniform and he went to the full-length mirror to inspect himself. The reflection looking back at him wore the dress uniform of the Duchy of Aquitaine, with the planetary fleur-de-lis ensign on the right breast pocket and the thistle emblem of Aquitaine on the left; the gold cross of valor hung from a ribbon around his neck. He hoped he looked noble enough for his date. He had asked her to join him on the whim of the moment at the dinner party the Duke of Parisienne had thrown the week before, having materialized on the dinner party scene out of nowhere. She had impressed him because she looked both stunning and shy. He sighed. She probably would turn out like all the rest. Even if she liked him, Mother would scare her off before long. Squaring his shoulders, he removed the miserable thoughts from his mind and mentally prepared to meet her.

Descending downstairs to the library, he opened the door, freezing as his mother and his date turned to look at him. Terror filled him as he thought about the sort of mischief his mother could have achieved in a few minutes alone with her. A bead of perspiration appeared on his forehead, but his brow went up when his date, dressed in fine clothes and jewelry, smiled, first slightly and then with warmth. He looked back at her and her beauty threatened to overcome him, with the dress and jewelry she wore. Mademoiselle Felicity, I see that you’ve become acquainted with my mother. He broke eye contact to glare at his mother before returning his full attention to Felicity.

We’ve been having a brief chat, his mother said, smiling at her son as though butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth. You wouldn’t leave without introducing Felicity, would you? She added in a teasing tone.

The thought had occurred to me.

Lucky I saw her arrive then, Camille said with a laugh that could be mistaken for genuine amusement. I’ll leave you two to go to your dinner. Don’t be late home now. With an affectionate glance at her son, Camille walked out.

Richelieu rolled his eyes as he walked toward Felicity. When will I escape her? She’s the reason I’m still unmarried. No one’s ever good enough for me in her eyes, not unless she’s hand-picked the woman herself. And anyone she suggests is so horrible, and so like herself, that I run the other way. She hasn’t chosen Felicity, so I’m not sure whether to trust this apparent display of goodwill. I hope my mother hasn’t been upsetting you. She can be a little blunt sometimes.

Oh, Richelieu, she’s charming. And I made sure we got off on the right foot.

He stopped and stared at her. If she can stand up to Mother for more than one second, maybe she will last past one date. Realizing he was staring, he bowed his head for a moment. I am being rude. Welcome. Have you been comfortable while you have been waiting?

Yes, thank you for asking. Felicity walked up to him until they almost touched each other, making Richelieu a little uncomfortable. I’m sure we will have a pleasant time tonight.

Unsure of what to do, Richelieu said, We’d better be going then. Stepping back from the intimacy, he escorted her to the waiting limousine and they went to the dinner.

The dinner went as all such dinners did, with the dukes prodding each other for any snippet of information that they could take advantage of. They all stood in the large ballroom on the second floor of the palace, French doors open to a balcony overlooking the estate. Soft music played in the background as Richelieu stood talking to the other dukes with a cognac in his hand. He looked over to the ladies and saw Felicity conversing comfortably with the others, smiling and laughing as if she belonged. He felt happy. Things had gone well with her so far.

Can I have a quiet word with you on the balcony, Richelieu? Javier asked.

Richelieu looked at him suspiciously. Sure. They both walked out to the balustrade of the balcony, away from the others. What’s on your mind?

Javier smiled. Some performance in there today. He looked at Richelieu as he took a sip of his cognac. But that’s not what I want to talk to you about.

Good, because I wouldn’t talk about it, anyway.

You know that I’ve been putting together a bill to improve the rights of the Cetusians living on Franconia?

You can’t go very far without someone talking about it. Whatever for is beyond me. Why would you want to improve their rights? They will only want more.

It’s not right. The way they’re treated. Have you watched them? Most people treat their pets better.

Richelieu conceded that he had a point. Even though they weren’t slaves, slavery was illegal, people treated them like that sometimes. The way some people barked their orders at them, including his mother, embarrassed even him on occasion. So, what do you want from me?

I was wondering where you stood on the topic. I can see that maybe you’re not as agreeable to the idea as I thought.

Richelieu rubbed his chin. I didn’t say I wouldn’t support any change. It depends what’s in the bill. I mean, one of the key arguments against improving their rights would be that it would increase their wages. No one will be happy with that.

Especially you in your economic position.

Now, that’s unfair, Richelieu said, raising his voice slightly.

Javier winced. Sorry. I didn’t mean that. Can’t help myself sometimes. The point is, I need your support on this. I know some other dukes look to you for direction, so if you give some sign of being open to some changes, you might sway them.

Straightening up with the compliment, Richelieu said, Well, what are you proposing? How will it affect the economy?

This segregation thing is becoming unacceptable. I mean, it could even improve the economy if we allowed the Cetusians to mix with us more openly rather than having separate systems for them and us.

That will cause a riot. People won’t accept that.

I admit we must ease people into the idea. The other thing. Have you ever seen where these people live? The slums? The condition of some of them is disgusting. You wouldn’t put an animal in them.

That’s their own fault.

Is it? You know it’s virtually impossible for a Cetusian to buy property. They work unbelievable hours for a pittance.

Richelieu looked at Javier with more respect. He hadn’t realized that Javier harboured such altruistic thoughts. He didn’t think he had it in his nature. Richelieu took a sip of his cognac as he thought about what to say. Taking his attention away from Javier for a moment, he looked out into the moonlit garden. The sky was clear, and the stars sparkled in their sharp brilliance in the cool, clean air. Give me an advance draft of the bill and I’ll have a look at it. I’m sure there will be some aspects of it I can support. He looked at Javier. It seems a little out of character, though.

Javier shrugged. We’re all full of surprises sometimes. Thanks. It means a lot to me.

You’re welcome. Let’s go back inside before people get suspicious.

Javier laughed.

They both went back and Richelieu joined the others. He noticed Javier veer off to speak to a Cetusian who Richelieu knew worked for him. He watched as they started talking. The Cetusian got excited and waved his arms around. Javier looked around and quickly moved the agitated Cetusian out of sight. Wonder what that was about? A moment later Felicity approached him with a smile that instantly made him forget about the scene.

Felicity wrapped her arm in Richelieu’s.

Enjoying yourself? Richelieu asked.

Yes. She moved closer and whispered in his ear. I’d like to spend some time alone with you, though.

Studying her, Richelieu pondered what she meant. Was she saying what he hoped she was saying? He had noticed the many looks of admiration some other males had cast her way at the dinner. He had also noticed that she did not return their gaze. She seemed to have eyes only for him.

We shall see what tonight brings. He patted her hand, which had settled on his forearm. It is getting late though. Maybe we should think about leaving. Saying his goodbyes, he walked out with Felicity at his side. Taking the elevator to the ground floor, they walked to the concierge, who arranged for Richelieu’s limousine to come to the entrance, the two leaving as soon as it arrived.

Taking Felicity back to his residence, he saw her desire to stay, so he led her up the stairs to his bedroom.

Richelieu woke to persistent and urgent knocking on his bedroom door. He looked at Felicity, asleep, naked, and undisturbed beside him. He rubbed his eyes and looked at the chronometer. Five in the morning. What could be so urgent as to wake him so early? He got out of bed and put on his robe. Easing his way out the door, he stood in front of his valet, who looked shocked and worried. What is it?

It’s the Duke and Duchess de Lorraine, sir.

What about them?

They’re dead, sir.

What!

4

Yiska busied himself getting ready for the day ahead. He remembered the argument of the night before and frowned. He hadn’t meant to get angry at the duke, but things just seemed to get out of hand when the duke said he might have to delay putting the equal rights bill before the Senate in the morning. No use staying upset over it, though. He’d patch things up with him when he saw Javier at the office.

A pounding on the door disturbed his thoughts, and he frowned again. Who could that be, and why were they wanting to break the door down? Coming, he yelled. He walked to the door and unlocked it. The door burst open and strategic operations police officers rushed in, running throughout his premises to secure it.

Inspector Xavier Fay from the Nouveau Paris police walked in moments later and stood in front of him. Yiska Powers?

Yiska looked at him indignantly. What is this about?

I have a search warrant for your premises.

What on Franconia for?

Inspector, came a voice from another room. Xavier walked over, followed by Yiska. One of the other officers came out of the door holding a bloodied knife. Xavier turned to Yiska. Yours?

Yiska frowned. No, it’s not. What is this about? Yiska suddenly felt his heart pounding in his chest as he realized the seriousness of his situation.

Are you the only one that hasn’t heard?

Heard what?

Someone murdered the Duke and Duchess de Lorraine last night.

What? Yiska’s eyes widened.

Xavier watched him closely. Throats cut with a knife. A knife very similar to that one, I suspect.

Panic set in and Yiska felt his temperature rise and perspiration coat his forehead. You don’t think I did it, do you?

People saw you fighting with him at the dinner last night.

We had a short disagreement. Nothing to kill anyone over. We’re working together. Why would I want to kill them?

A good question.

Sir.

Xavier turned to the voice.

A button, sir. Looks like the one from the duke’s coat.

Xavier turned back to Yiska, disgusted. You’re under arrest. He looked at one of the other officers, who immediately came over.

Yiska protested to the man. But I’m innocent, I’m —" a fist to the jaw prevented any other words coming from his mouth. Hands wrenched his arms behind his back and he felt the restraints clamping onto his wrists.

Don’t be too rough with him, Xavier said, frowning.

He’s only a Cetusian.

All the same. We only have circumstantial evidence at the moment. Take him back to the station and get a forensics team in here.

Yiska knew it was useless to put up any resistance. The police officer pushed him through the entrance door of his premises and to the waiting AGrav. He saw neighbors staring at him as they gathered to see what the commotion was about, some standing at their doors and a few peeking through the curtains covering their windows. Also being Cetusian, they made sure they stayed far away from the police. An hour later, he found himself in a cell, enclosed on three sides. The front buzzed with a blue-tinted force-field.

The Duke and Duchess de Lorraine murdered? That made no sense. He didn’t want them dead. The duke was helping him in his equal rights campaign for the Cetusian population of Franconia. Yiska sat on a bench in the cell, his head tilted back and resting against the wall. His jaw hurt where the man had punched him. The skin felt tender when he touched it. He’d been lucky, though. Others had been roughed up much worse for more trivial matters than murder, although he couldn’t tell what was ahead of him. They had taken everything but his clothes from him before they tossed him in the cell and had given him no indication of how long he would have to wait before someone came for him.

It seemed like many hours had passed before the main door to the cell block opened and two police officers walked in. They looked at him like they knew they held all the power and Yiska had none.

Stand, one of them ordered.

Yiska stood up. The other officer turned the force-field off, and they both approached him, one with a stun pistol at the ready.

Hands out.

Yiska obeyed, and the officer placed restraints on his wrists.

Without warning, the officer kicked him in the groin. Yiska buckled over in agony before being pushed to the floor. They both kicked him in the torso, winding him. One of them kicked him in the eye for good measure and Yiska felt the area instantly swell, closing it up.

Get up.

Gasping for breath, Yiska tried standing, but only got halfway before another kick to the chest flipped him backwards.

We’d better go, the one with the gun said. They’ll start wondering why we’re taking so long. He looked at Yiska. Get up.

Yiska dared not look at either of them for fear of upsetting them further and starting another bout of punishment. He slowly stood in a crouched position, not able