Sometimes, Lord Teus Capield regretted becoming a Royal Minister. No, he would have much preferred to have become an academic, a scientist. But his father had other pns. 'The Capield Cn has higher callings,' his father would say. That man was a career politician, as his mother was before him, as several of her uncles and aunts were. And so, he had the unfortunate fate of being born in a current that flowed counter to the desire of his heart.

  That said, young Capield managed to to align his course between those contrary winds, channelling his scientific aspirations while wringing himself through his family’s niche expectations. He split his time between academic studies and a constant stream of social events hosted or attended by his father, learning the subtle art of appearing to be concerned with one group’s agenda while secretly working for the benefit of another’s. The constant duplicity was tiring; it was far more difficult to remember who he was supposed to be pretending to be crooning in concert with, than remembering wave harmonics equations.

  If there was one good thing to be said for his hyper-social chores, it had forced him to develop a fairly good ability to detect duplicity himself. It was a skill that he knew would serve him well in the next few clegs, as he was about to run into his least favourite peer.

  Lord Milis Tuoi, the Royal Minister of Culture and Communication, was quite possibly the single most insufferable man that Lord Capield had ever had the displeasure of meeting. Every time the two of them met he would be held hostage in the most inconceivably dull and tiresome conversations that he ever had to endure in his tenure as a minister. And worse yet, even a half-concerned politician like Capield could tell that Tuoi was lying through his beak with every other word he squawked.

  “Ah, Clear Skies to you, Lord Capield! How pleasant to run into you!” came the first lie; he knew that he deliberately sought him out.

  “Clear Skies to you too, Lord Tuoi. Ever so gd to see you well.” Lord Capield lied back.

  “I must say, I’ve barely seen you at all this season. I was worried you were ill.”

  “No, not at all, Lord Tuoi. I was merely extremely busy.”

  “Ah yes, of course. I can only imagine how hectic your waking bals must have been… What with the troubles with Project Fal'Grine and that odd creature they found.”

  “His name is Adwin.” Lord Capield’s correction came out a bit more abruptly that he would have preferred.

  “Ahad-yin… Such an unusual name…” If Lord Tuoi had picked up on the pecking tone of Lord Capield’s reply, he didn’t show it. “Though I suppose our names and words would seem equally strange to him. Tell me, how have his nguage studies been going?”

  “How did you know he was learning phuratan?”

  “What? Oh, well, I just assumed.” Lord Toui waved a wing dismissively. “If I recall well he was believed to be an intelligent creature, as he arrived here with books and clothing. So, it follows that one would assume he had nguage, and was capable of learning ours.”

  “Oh, I suppose that’s a reasonable assumption.” mused Lord Capield. “Well, at any rate, he is indeed learning our nguage quite well. His grammar is still imperfect, and his accent is unconventional to say the least, but his speech is remarkably comprehensible.”

  “Ah, good, good… I look forward to meeting him once he has been sufficiently civilised.”

  For the second time in a few short driks Lord Capield found himself feeling insulted on the human’s behalf. “And how are you so certain that he isn’t civilised already? You might be surprised by what we might learn from human civilization.”

  “Yes, I recall some agitated fpping about a few devices he was carrying. But let me tell you, my dear minister, a few trinkets of technology are not the only gauge of a civilisation’s advancement. Rather a culture’s appreciation for the arts, and it’s dedication to preserving its traditions are far better indications of—”

  Lord Capield simply could not have this conversation again. Especially not now. He was already te for his next meeting, and this meeting was on an issue that he actually cared about. “Well, I suppose we can agree to disagree on this matter. Now if you’ll excuse me, Royal Minister, I really am quite busy as of te.”

  “Yes, of course, of course. Don’t let me keep you from your duties, Lord Capield. May the skies continue to clear for you.”

  “And for you, Lord Tuoi.” Lord Capield said as he turned and moved away.

  ? ? ?

  Zaetus Hydor really hated being kept waiting. It didn’t matter if she was being made to wait on feckless recruits or ageing generals, she hated it all the same. Her days were usually spent wrangling personnel and resources to ensure the kingdom’s military projects were properly constructed and maintained. Every mispced item, every improperly assigned worker, every dey, just caused compounded problems for her to deal with.

  So she was very much annoyed by the fact that she was waiting in Lord Capield’s office for almost a quarter of a bel. In her younger seasons she would have physically manifested her annoyance by bouncing her leg, but her lifelong careerer in the military tempered that reflex. Still, those who worked closest with her, such as the officers presently fnked on either side of her, could almost feel the miasmic potency of her ire. Those two attendants were probably relieved as the Royal Minister finally barged in through the door.

  “Clear skies to you, General Hydor. Unfortunately I had several other matters to attend to, and I was detained by a colleague on my way here. I appreciate your patience.” That was the closest thing to an apology the general could expect to get a from a royal.

  “Clear skies Royal Minister. We were not waiting here very long.” she lied. “And your office is very comfortable. But I am pretty eager to hear about what kind of project my minister sent me here to colborate on.”

  “Of course General. Well, I’m sure that you’re already aware of project Dark-Light.”

  “Yes My Lord. It was a telescope array built to observe the dark-lights, was it not?”

  “Indeed it was. And we have learned much about the dark-lights, and about many other kinds of objects beyond the sky.”

  What an odd thing to say. “… Beyond the sky, Minister?”

  “It is… Somewhat difficult to expin, General. I will ensure that you get clearance to attend the upcoming lectures on the topic.”

  “Ah… This humble soldier appreciates this opportunity to learn, My Lord.” General Hydor said with diplomatic trepidation. In reality she was not too keen on attending more lectures this te in her careerer. Of course, she loved learning about new technologies as much as any officer in the Engineering Corps, but she had grown to prefer reading articles and working on problems on her own time. “I assume that the knowledge you’ve acquired has military applications?”

  “Indeed General.” Lord Capield said as he walked to the rge window in his office. He stood there for a few clegs, silently peering into the distance. “Speaking of telescopes General, don’t you think they can be a very effective military tool?”

  Ugh. Royals. Always so pretentious. By all means, bury the lede. Make a whole production of it, why don’t you. “Of course, Minister.” she replied dryly.

  “And what if we instead of having telescopes on the ground pointing to the sky, we instead had telescopes in the sky pointed at the ground? At Pitang ground?”

  The general’s fore-feathers shot upward. Okay, perhaps this might be worth all the pomp and circumstance after all. “If that were possible, that would be an absolute game-changer, My Lord.” She said with genuine enthusiasm.

  “If it were possible.” Lord Capield picked up a rolled up sheet of paper from a nearby cabinet and spread it out on the centre table. It was a blueprint. Of a rocket.