The death of Elend Draco, the patriarch of our great house and my brother-in-law, was a surprise to everyone. I was just setting up the annual Dantooine hunt party when I heard the news. Naturally, the thought of canceling the hunt altogether, and going back straight to the Red Keep crossed my mind. However, the combination of Dantooine's atmosphere, pirate activities, and petty warlords scattered on the Braxant Run means it takes sometimes to prepare a safe journey back, in which the funeral would have ended when our party could manage to be back anyway. Thus, the wisest decision at the time was to continue, and complete the hunt, to honor Elend.
Truth be told, the family doesn't all sit at one table for dinner that often. Outside of special celebratory occasions, we tend to stay at our own estates. A full-family dinner with Elend and Deyanira, Elssar and I, and Elyni, plus all the kids, is a recipe for disaster. There's always something that the women fight over, and don't get me started with the kids. Pampered, incapable, soft brats thinking that they are the best there is.
However, with Elend's death, the peace agreement, the whispers of schemes and plots, and the uncertain future of House Draco, a dialogue is direly needed. Elssar filled me in with all the details. The suspicious nature of the death, the rumors of the Duke, the Amnen little lord, a secret society of Spice monopolists, and foreign corporations. If House Draco is to survive another century, something has to be done.
Arriving in the dining hall, I went straight to Deyanira, who's wrapped up in a simple, yet elegant black dress. My wife and Elyni would never admit it, but a part of their resentment towards Deyanira is rooted in jealousy. Of how she looks, of how she thinks, and of how she won their late brother's heart. Ain't that the oldest tale in the galaxy.
"Sister, my deepest condolences. I hope the Iriaz finds you well, the least we can do."
The two other Dracos already present in the room are Leon and Visserion. The dwarf and the walking, breathing disease-riddled genitalia, who happens to be my son. Ironically two of the multiple subjects that brought me here tonight. Elssar insisted that Visserion should also attend the dinner, and it has 100% to do with my health. I have learnt to hide it well away from public, and even familial knowledge, but it has been deteriorating the past three years. A tad slower, quicker to hit fatigues, and some early signs of memory loss. Like it or not, Visserion is the heir to our line of Draco. He is going to inherit our estate, and stand behind Amarantos when his reign comes. It is not a question of if, but when.
"Leon, my condolences. Is that a Polanis red? I'll have one."
I asked the server for a glass. I shouldn't be drinking too much tonight, but a glass would ease the conversation greatly. Where was I, oh, the dwarf. One of Elssar's main concerns about the continuation of our great house is the kids that are set to inherit. Amarantos is a flaccid man-child who no one is confident in his ability to pee straight, let alone rule a system. Leon, in Elssar's word, is 'you, a bit smarter, but without all the things that makes you great'. Adelina is an entitled, lazy brat who doesn't understand the concept of a no. Isadora is just a girl desperate for her mother's approval, and might, or might not be a bastard. Visserion is just a headcase. More brilliant than any other Draco, but is just an episode away from being a galactic-scale geopolitical disaster. The point is, it does not look good, the future. There might be animosity between the Draco siblings and their spouses, but at least we all know that we are all competent at what we do. The kids, on the other hand, it's a grand reclamation project, finding them the perfect spouses is just a start. While waiting for the other Dracos, I decided to start the dialogue slowly, going back to Deyanira.
"I heard whispers of vampires and spice cults everywhere I went. I can't help but wonder, sister, how was the little covenant with the Duke and the Kid going?"
