u/Auggy74

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_____________

Hurdop Prime, Eterina Acres

It was late evening. Or early morning, depending on how one reckoned time. In either event the guest house had been redone, and the guests were arriving as the main house slept. The Emissaries had been doing well enough acclimating to their new land but there were some things that would never change. Tonight it was going to be Kifab's time to host the football viewing party - in three days Ogan's team Tri-City Athletic would be playing, and the same play would happen again at his manse. Still, there were formalities to be observed as Ogan came in with a bottle of ale and a mug for the contents.

"Kifab. Have you considered the possibility that cheering for a perennial loser has affected your mind?"

There was a snort in reply. "Spoken by the Lord who can't read a standings table, or did we forget that Tri-City only qualified by winning the third tiebreak against Orbital Palace?"

"Orbital Palace is better than you think - give them two more seasons and they'll be making long runs for the Champions league." Vilga entered with a measure of wine from his vineyard.

Kifab laughed softly. "Which is what I was saying for the past fourteen seasons."

There was genial laughter as the Emissaries all settled in. Wagers were promptly discussed and made, with the stakes mostly being crops and yeast strains - ostensibly for bread, but some strains had a significantly different purpose. Rilaoi from the Ministry of Science wagered a proof-of-concept greenhouse with filters that would allow Vilantia-native crops to grow and Orwen put up energy cells tailored to utilize the local water. The winner of all this bounty would be the one who's chosen team went furthest in the playoffs.

Finally they settled in and the program began with the familiar strains of the playoff introduction and then the theme for the playoffs celebrating new beginnings, as the normal standings table was all but forgotten - perennial contenders had been eliminated, and the lower teams that did the dance of relegation were suddenly finding themselves comfortably safe from the fate of the lower rungs.

Finally the holos swept the outside of Elsife Village Stadium - it was interesting to see that certain Terran traditions had been picked up. Cooking outdoors was still very much an awkward thing, but it seemed the scent of chicken was enough to overcome all but the most stalwart traditionalists.

The camera moved suddenly as it caught movement, something was coming in fast - too fast, almost. The camera zoomed quickly, showing a Terran shuttlecraft hugging the ground as music was playing at a volume that held no consideration for eardrums as it warned everyone that all the rowdy friends were coming over tonight. Kifab had a flash of memory and shook his head as the Terrans below cheered the shuttle as it twisted through the sky, bleeding off speed and finally landing outside the Noble Gate. The camera held to see what madman would have their pilot behave so.

"Kifab, is that..." Vilga's voice was hesitant, his scent unsure.

"...Gryzzk, yes. And he has his wives along with Lady Ah'nuriel and Pafreet, and it seems there are noble friends of the Freelord who wished a Terran experience of sorts." Kifab shook his head. "But they can't be seen in public with him, it seems. Probably some of A'Melosy's clan. I've received a few messages asking after him from her sworn; it seems the Lady's mission to Eridani left her with a favorable impression of him."

Ogan shook his head. "It seems overly complicated when viewed from afar. I think retirement suits me much better. It was worse in the Navy - receiving left-handed orders from a junior who happened to be an admiral's favored cousin, making sure the oaths of old were upheld..."

Kifab chuffed a soft agreement. "Not to give praise unduly, but I think the former minister did all of us a large favor."

"Only by accident. Now to the match, I'm been wanting to see how well this smoked bison pairs with this cheese and ale."

___________

Terran Foreign Legion Shuttlecraft Indigo Rose

As they lifted off from Ah'Nuriel's pad, the Throne cleared their throat and looked around almost guiltily.

"Freelord, I asked one of the Ministry of Science members to reproduce the flight path from here to Vilantianic Stadium. It seems almost impossible."

"It was exceedingly possible."

"Is it possible for a repeat performance of sorts to occur?"

Gryzzk blinked. And blinked again. "Well. Theoretically yes. I will ask." He flicked the comm to the pilot channel. "Hoban, Miroka - we have been asked to make an arrival. I believe we are clear for free maneuvering below twenty-five meters, yes?"

Hoban's giggle was the most frightening thing Gryzzk had heard in years. "Yes we are." His head turned fractionally. "New flight plan, Kitten - I'll brief the passengers." From there Hoban flicked to the general channel. "Alright folks, interplanetary regulations require me to remind you that this is a non-smoking shuttle, in the event of an emergency aim for the softest patch of ground you can see." There was a soft chime as the recomputed flight plan was ready. "Right then, if everyone's secure, hitch your tits and pucker up."

The flight was in a word frightening. At least to Gryzzk. As the shuttle dipped, twisted, and at one point few completely inverted for fifteen seconds Gryzzk was busy hoping that lunch would remain where it had been - on the comm channels, he listened as Hoban first tried to explain to Flight control that they had deviated from their assigned flightpath due to a slight engine malfunction, but they were in fact fine - everything was fine, and after some conversation Hoban killed the channel after declaring it to be a boring conversation anyway. After that Miroka gave calm instructions to Hoban, who was flying the shuttle above and around treetops with the concentration he usually reserved for the most dire of moments. Or when he'd upset Miroka and was trying to get back into her good graces before bedtime.

There was a scent of amusement that lasted until Gryzzk's comm chimed, and Rosie's voice came in clearly. "Freelord, I have the Minister of Communication holding on line one, and the Minister of Culture on line two. Who would you like to have try to ream you a shiny new asshole first?"

"Are their concerns similar?"

"Oh yes. The Throne has hopped the fence again, this time with the consorts and the Heir. They've been calling me every half-hour, and they finally convinced me when the Minister of War pouted at me."

"Understood - please advise of any current defensive measures surrounding the Ah'nuriel manse."

"Currently we got Delta camping the roads with a couple of fake accidents blocking the roads, and Jenkins ordered a defensive patrol with the Warthogs. Alert status is epic. Fox Company's trailing you and bitching because Hoban gets to have all the fun. Bravo's mingling in the parking lot, and your suite is sorted." Rosie seemed amused. "Yes, they've done protection gigs before, why do you ask?"

Gryzzk chuffed softly. "Thank you. Please pass my compliments to the battalion. Now, if you would, I think I'll talk to both Ministers now?"

"Your funeral." The comm clicked and Gryzzk almost winced as the comm channel was overtaken by two very unhappy Ministers speaking in tandem.

"Freelord, where are they?"

First play - ignorance. "They? Ministers, that is a broad term."

Minister Aa'Criar took the lead rapidly. "Freelord. Gryzzk. Do not pretend ignorance. One of your shuttles was seen leaving the Palace this morning, and this afternoon a servant entered to look after the Throne in their illness and noted that certain quarters were empty that should never be empty. Where. Are. The. Occupants."

There was a slight hitch as Hoban made the shuttle do very unshuttle things and Gryzzk's stomach protested the treatment. He cleared his throat to be as honest as he could be. "On my honor, I can personally vouch for their safety. The shuttle I am currently in is being crewed by two of the finest pilots their homeworlds have produced. It is known that the Throne has taken an interest in the delights of the commons, and perhaps they wish to observe the playoff commencement festivities undisturbed?"

There was a soft sigh as Minister Larine spoke. "There will be consequences for these actions. I have expended a great deal in keeping certain clans at bay, who will wish compensation for the Throne's cancellation of certain appointments. In addition, I am spending far too much of my time reading items with your clan attached to them. We will discuss these things after the match."

Gryzzk groaned inwardly. Larine was going to have multiple candidates for marriage lined up for discussion - at minimum. "Of course Minister. Please rest assured that I fully understand that there will be further discussions, and I trust in the discretion of all to ensure that our mutual acquaintances are blessed with health and long life. Now, apologies but we seem to be heading into a communications deadzone. Please, relay your requests to my XO and I assure you they will be given prompt attention."

Both ministers harrumphed softly as the channel closed.

During all this, the Throne and consorts were exhibiting an almost manic glee, while Grezzk seemed to be enjoying it and Kiole was being exceedingly stoic. Finally Hoban began playing the music of his home colony, with a male singing about putting a pig in the ground and bringing beer on ice - the exact meaning of the phrasing escaped him. As the flight ended with Hoban showing off even more for the crowd below, Miroka addressed him on a private channel.

"Major, I know this is a recreational, however I have been advised that you and Kiole should check under your seats. Got some nice gloves and five-shot stunner that should get through security. They're specifically confiscating the Learning Sticks."

"Corporal, I must ask why."

"Respectfully sir, you are not universally beloved. Recall Reilly's wedding. Prior incidents. Some might think this an opportunity for their own glory."

Gryzzk nodded passing along the instructions to Kiole as they landed. The Royals were enthused, for lack of a better word.

"Freelord, this is a time that the Consorts and I will carry with us. Our lives are those of gilded pets. As much as there are many who actively seek that life for their children, there are times when it is wearying. Thank you." The Throne moved their head fractionally up - something that Gryzzk had never seen. Ever.

"W-W-Well...I can only hope that the match is - is enjoyable. For the moment, we should, we should disembark. With respect, I would ask that Lady Ah'nuriel take the lead - in order to make it seem that you are...friends who wish to be anonymous for the moment."

The Throne softly chuckled. "Clever."

As they moved through the crowd to the Noble Entrance, the crowd didn't exactly part for them - it took a few moments for Gryzzk to realize that they were being escorted by Sergeant Nelas' platoon as they discretely jostled folks out of the way. The surprises didn't stop there; as they entered their reserved suite they found an impressive buffet that smelled delightful, and the bridge squad had appropriated the majority of the row directly in front of them in tandem with several other members of the company - all of them were in their normal street clothes and appeared to be having a good time, but none of them were drunk. The last oddity was also in the suite itself, where a fully armed and armored sergeant major waited calmly as she scanned the stands while the pregame ceremonies of the playoffs began.

"Sergeant Major...you presence here is not entirely required." Gryzzk flicked an ear.

"So you say. But a few of the more hooligan-minded among us decided to test the security of this place and suffice to say they found it wanting. Ye've got precious cargo here, and it stays safe on our watch. Your job is to be cordial and entertaining while watching the game with your guests, and ours is to watch everything else. My job is to do that and look like I just need an excuse to pull someone's arm out of their sockets and shove it somewhere far less comfortable. Do your job, we'll do ours, and we'll make a fine memory of this night."

The Throne watched the exchange with some interest, finally approaching the looming sergeant.

"You are the Sergeant Major of Clan O'Brien?"

There was a professional nod. "Aye."

The Throne looked up for a moment before placing a hand delicately over O'Brien's. "You have my thanks. Please keep the Freelord alive and safe for as long as possible."

O'Brien's demeanor broke for a moment as she seemed taken aback. "Gryzzk's a fine lad. Your planet's lucky to have such. We'll keep him hale and hearty and his wives happy as long as we can."

"I will watch with enthusiasm. Pardons, however, but the match..." The Throne was almost apologetic as their face turned toward the field, where the referees had signaled match start, and the two goalkeepers responded by launching the balls into play with high arcing strikes. The crowd roared their enthusiasm as sixty thousand Vilantians all went insane at once.

What followed was sheer domination; West Melosy was tactically sound, a carryover from last season - but Elsife Village was playing like they were possessed. As the first period ended, Gryzzk noted that the holo-cameras were panning across the noble boxes and allowing the locals a chance to see their favorite nobles. The Royals didn't seem to notice as they seemed caught up in the spectacle - for a moment Gryzzk had a memory of the first game he'd gone to, in the very stadium with his own father. It seemed a lifetime ago, and also an event so fresh it could have happened yesterday.

Gryzzk started calling out quickly. "Everyone with an uncovered face, to the rail - quickly. Everyone else, please. Now would be a fine time for refreshments."

As they waved to the crowd the appearance of Gryzzk brought a frightful pop of noise and scent to the stadium - the emotions seemed to be almost pure joy - if there was anything else, Gryzzk didn't catch it. The cheering continued unabated even as his wives came to the fore, and when Lady Ah'nuriel and Pafreet came forward to wave there was an even greater emotional surge. As the teams strode to the pitch for the beginning of the second Gryzzk had to point at the crowd to remind them that the match was beginning again.

The second period was tamer by comparison, with the West Melosy side playing a control-based game to slowly advance up to the offensive zone and Elsife Village countering slowly - it was almost as if the two sides were replaying the first period. Throughout it all the Throne and Consorts were at the rail and leaning forward as if being seven centimeters closer made all the difference. The crowd was settling in as well, with cheers and chants sweeping the stands in turn as they cheered for their favored teams and mocked Melosy relentlessly.

As they settled in for the second intermission, there was a bit of a scuffle from the row in front of their suite - O'Brien quickly hustled the Royals back to the latrine, and a very large sidearm appeared as if by magic in her hand. Gryzzk found his gloves and moved forward to assess the commotion.

Said commotion turned out to be Lodora and a cameraman. The reporter looked like she'd been given a very quick assignment - her fur wasn't perfect, and it appeared that she'd buttoned her shirt wrong. Still, her scent was that of a professional who was professionally amused as the row of mercenaries decided that Lodora was acceptable. Mostly. Their hands still stayed hidden in the event that the cameraman was more than a cameraman.

Lodora cleared her throat as she moved fractionally closer to the Noble Box. "Freelord, Minister Aa'Criar sent a message - 'You owe me, you twilight-blind fool. Pay up.' She said a great deal as well immediately afterward, but I'm not sure you want to know what she wished for you." Lodora's ear twitched momentarily in amusement.

"Very well, but first..." Gryzzk gestured to her shirt as he found a team blanket and moved to provide a measure of dignity as Lodora realized her error and hurriedly corrected it. During that interlude, Gryzzk cast a baleful eye upon his bodyguards seated in the row below.

"I know you think it would be funny, but no swearing. Do not speak of yesterday's events. Or tomorrow's. Or anything that happened today." Gryzzk paused. "In fact it's better if you don't speak at all."

There were groans throughout the row as Prumila spoke to Col'un lowly. "The Freelord, he can...fuss."

Col'un paused for a moment. "Fuss, fuss. I think he likes to scream...at us."

Prumila smiled. "Probably he means no haaarm."

Col'un seemed deep in thought. "He's really very short on...charm!"

There was a soft chuckle from Prumila as she leaned into her husband. "You have a great gift for rhymes."

A nuzzle of agreement was the response as he murmured back, "Some of the time."

Gryzzk cleared his throat. "No more of that, and I mean it."

The entire row immediately chorused back at their commander, "Anybody want a peanut?" before dissolving into giggles and laughs before they went back to their assignment of pretending to be spectators while watching for danger.

Lodora shook her head at the strange scene before glancing at the clock to confirm how much time she had left. She nodded to the cameraman one, twice, and then a third time before a soft light went on to indicate they were live. Gryzzk barely had time to arrange the blanket neatly so that the team crest was visible. From his upper eye-pair, Gryzzk could see that the cameraman's feed was being broadcast live via all the stadium screens.

"Hello again, Vilantia - tonight we have a special second-intermission interview with none other than Freelord Gryzzk, who appears to have made his preference clear in this match. So tell us Freelord, did you really bring everyone here just to see the first Elsife Village United playoff match in nineteen seasons?"

Gryzzk gave a slightly deprecating smile. "I would be a tremendous liar if I said it was the only reason; but it is a delightful benefit."

"Have you given any thought to tomorrow's match - Throne City FC and Truve?"

"I am thankful that the gods of football saw fit to place Throne City in the other pool. They are a tremendous team and worthy of all the respect they have garnered."

"There are several predictions out there that put Throne City and Elsife in the finals against each other. What do you think of that?"

"I would watch such a series holding my hands over four eyes and asking my wives to pinch me every period to ensure I wasn't dreaming."

"Oh? Would they be watching along with as much attention as you?"

"Well - not quite as much. Grezzk would ensure that we all ate well, and Kiole - her heart is ours, but her football love lies in the Hurdop Freeleague." Gryzzk spread his hands apologetically. "It's complicated."

Lodora's eyes sparkled as she took the offered segue. "Have you given any thought to the rumored Champions League being formed?"

"I think it might be a good thing to see planetary champions playing for the right to be called the best - but I don't know too much about it. I do know that they would have to come up with a ruleset that's equitable. But for the moment, it would a rumor and a dream."

"So what of the rumors about you that have been on the localgrid today?"

"There are always rumors there, Lodora. I fear you're going to have to be more specific." Gryzzk took out his tablet and poked at it a few times, blinking and forcing his fur to calm. "Eighteen thousand mentions of me since we started talking - and that's only in one node."

Lodora smiled genially. "Well, there were rumors that a shuttle very similar to one of yours was seen flying from the Palace today, and now we see you with guests."

"Well, technically I'm here as a guest of Lady Ah'nuriel and Pafreet. But they are most dear friends to the Lady as well as the freeclan. At the same time they wish a measure of privacy that we are more than happy to accommodate."

"So you haven't spent the day with the Throne?"

Gryzzk waved a hand in front of his face with a genial laugh perfected over years of pretending bad noble jokes were hilarious. "Lodora - that is one of the more...interesting things I've heard since arriving here. I mean - has the Throne ever left the grounds for any reason? Even during the worst events of history, the knowledge that the Throne rules from Palace has been our touchstone. Now please we only have a short time remaining, and while discussing fanciful rumors born of far too much fine wine is amusing, the third period waits for none."

Lodora seemed to chuckle along with Gryzzk. "Very well. We'll leave you and Lady Ah'nuriel's guests to enjoy the rest of the match." She turned to face the camera fully. "And that's all the time we have; now back to match."

As the camera light went off, Lodora listened to something in her earpiece and nodded, leaning in intimately close to whisper and deliberately ignoring the suddenly looming O'Brien. "The Minister says 'Enjoy the rest of the match and make sure everyone is home safely at a decent hour.' I believe you may have kept your end of the transaction."