Private Council Chambers, Epica City
An emergency meeting.
Rarely were such inconveniences necessary. The most powerful groups on Epica were represented in this torch-lit room, each with their own interests & influences; but, generally speaking, many were able to sort out their differences privately without involving the whole. Only when something truly pressing came up were the various heads of the Families summoned… and the first question on everyone’s lips, undoubtedly, was always “Why”.
Strangely, however, today, that question had not been asked once.
Everyone knew why.
Omar Primakov, the ‘Pakhan’ (or ‘Father”) of the Primakov Criminal Empire, had been aggressively vocal over the past few weeks about the damages he’d suffered following a failed attempt to claim a particular piece of property on the western edge of the Matriscan Mountains. Unbeknownst to the Malkuths, whom at the time had put the property up for sale, the Primakovs had sought to expand their territorial claims by force. Such an act was not against the law, of course; by the same treatise they all lived by, if a group was unable to defend a territory they claimed, encroachment by a superior force was not only allowed but encouraged. Instead of the Malkuths defending their territory, however, an entirely different (and altogether mysterious) group of Militants had descended upon the small camp the Primakovs had erected, murdering over a dozen valuable & loyal members of the Syndicate, and chasing off the rest. Almost simultaneously, the land itself had been purchased by Offworlders for an exorbitant sum - making the Malkuths that much richer, and the Primakovs appear that much weaker.
Almost immediately, these Offworlders had begun making moves. They displayed considerable wealth & power as ships never before seen in Epica’s orbit began arriving, ferrying materials & bodies onto the planet’s surface. They’d even begun operating within the Borgias’ domain - Epica City - erecting at least one entertainment venue which had quickly become to talk of the entire city with its unusual demographic. Memories-on-demand. Such a thing was unheard of, and doubtlessly, a number of families entrenched in Epica’s power-base were questioning why they hadn’t thought of such a thing sooner.
“It cannot stand.” Frederico Fabria, head of the Fabria Family, said with disgust. He gestured with a lit cigar as-if he were stabbing at everyone seated around the long oaken table. “We know nothing of these people; they come to our planet without paying respect!”
Seated at the other end of the table, Omar Primakov sourly took a sip from his wine glass.
One of the others seated at the table spoke up. He was dressed in a suit, and flanked by two TC-series protocol droids. “Perhaps a summons is in order? We know that they operate Reveries, and construction of the vineyard is nearly complete. A friendly-”
A sudden wine glass came hurtling across the table like a comet, trailing a stream of blood-red liquid behind it. The glass passed near the suited representative from the Primedia Corporation, but it had (thankfully) discharged its entire contents before striking the wall in a shower of glass.
Nine of the ten people seated around the High Table looked on in shock as the heavyset boss of the Primakovs stood up from the table, palms planted firmly on its surface and glaring angrily at each of them in turn. His heavily-accented voice thunderously boomed as spittle flew from his lips. The man was absolutely incensed with rage.
“Friendly?! You want to talk friendly?! Perhaps we will go and invite them for cake, and discuss the families of the men they murdered! You will-”
“Enough.”
The single word, spoken without force, poleaxed the obese Crime Lord with its tone of finality and turned every head in the room away from the unfolding argument & toward the speaker. Seated at the very head of the table was an immensely tall older human, clean-shaven, with the deepest emerald-green eyes. His hair was short & wild; colored black with specks of gray visible which gave him an unusual, almost wolf-like appearance.
Marius Borgia, unquestionably the most powerful single man in the Epica System, folded his hands atop the table in a moment of stillness which stretched for a dozen heartbeats. He commanded the entire room’s attention as they waited, holding their breath, for his judgement on the matter at hand… for his word was Law.
“A Summons, it shall be. Whomever calls themselves the head of this group, see that they are brought before us. Do not shed blood.”
The word "Yet" went unspoken, but everyone understood.
Marius took his time making eye-contact with each person seated at the table... but noted that one pointedly avoided his gaze. That was a problem for be dealt with at another time. Privately.
"One week from today."
And with that final word, he called an end to their meeting.
An emergency meeting.
Rarely were such inconveniences necessary. The most powerful groups on Epica were represented in this torch-lit room, each with their own interests & influences; but, generally speaking, many were able to sort out their differences privately without involving the whole. Only when something truly pressing came up were the various heads of the Families summoned… and the first question on everyone’s lips, undoubtedly, was always “Why”.
Strangely, however, today, that question had not been asked once.
Everyone knew why.
Omar Primakov, the ‘Pakhan’ (or ‘Father”) of the Primakov Criminal Empire, had been aggressively vocal over the past few weeks about the damages he’d suffered following a failed attempt to claim a particular piece of property on the western edge of the Matriscan Mountains. Unbeknownst to the Malkuths, whom at the time had put the property up for sale, the Primakovs had sought to expand their territorial claims by force. Such an act was not against the law, of course; by the same treatise they all lived by, if a group was unable to defend a territory they claimed, encroachment by a superior force was not only allowed but encouraged. Instead of the Malkuths defending their territory, however, an entirely different (and altogether mysterious) group of Militants had descended upon the small camp the Primakovs had erected, murdering over a dozen valuable & loyal members of the Syndicate, and chasing off the rest. Almost simultaneously, the land itself had been purchased by Offworlders for an exorbitant sum - making the Malkuths that much richer, and the Primakovs appear that much weaker.
Almost immediately, these Offworlders had begun making moves. They displayed considerable wealth & power as ships never before seen in Epica’s orbit began arriving, ferrying materials & bodies onto the planet’s surface. They’d even begun operating within the Borgias’ domain - Epica City - erecting at least one entertainment venue which had quickly become to talk of the entire city with its unusual demographic. Memories-on-demand. Such a thing was unheard of, and doubtlessly, a number of families entrenched in Epica’s power-base were questioning why they hadn’t thought of such a thing sooner.
“It cannot stand.” Frederico Fabria, head of the Fabria Family, said with disgust. He gestured with a lit cigar as-if he were stabbing at everyone seated around the long oaken table. “We know nothing of these people; they come to our planet without paying respect!”
Seated at the other end of the table, Omar Primakov sourly took a sip from his wine glass.
One of the others seated at the table spoke up. He was dressed in a suit, and flanked by two TC-series protocol droids. “Perhaps a summons is in order? We know that they operate Reveries, and construction of the vineyard is nearly complete. A friendly-”
A sudden wine glass came hurtling across the table like a comet, trailing a stream of blood-red liquid behind it. The glass passed near the suited representative from the Primedia Corporation, but it had (thankfully) discharged its entire contents before striking the wall in a shower of glass.
Nine of the ten people seated around the High Table looked on in shock as the heavyset boss of the Primakovs stood up from the table, palms planted firmly on its surface and glaring angrily at each of them in turn. His heavily-accented voice thunderously boomed as spittle flew from his lips. The man was absolutely incensed with rage.
“Friendly?! You want to talk friendly?! Perhaps we will go and invite them for cake, and discuss the families of the men they murdered! You will-”
“Enough.”
The single word, spoken without force, poleaxed the obese Crime Lord with its tone of finality and turned every head in the room away from the unfolding argument & toward the speaker. Seated at the very head of the table was an immensely tall older human, clean-shaven, with the deepest emerald-green eyes. His hair was short & wild; colored black with specks of gray visible which gave him an unusual, almost wolf-like appearance.
Marius Borgia, unquestionably the most powerful single man in the Epica System, folded his hands atop the table in a moment of stillness which stretched for a dozen heartbeats. He commanded the entire room’s attention as they waited, holding their breath, for his judgement on the matter at hand… for his word was Law.
“A Summons, it shall be. Whomever calls themselves the head of this group, see that they are brought before us. Do not shed blood.”
The word "Yet" went unspoken, but everyone understood.
Marius took his time making eye-contact with each person seated at the table... but noted that one pointedly avoided his gaze. That was a problem for be dealt with at another time. Privately.
"One week from today."
And with that final word, he called an end to their meeting.
