Beyond - Legends The Bluebells & The Edelweiss (AU, OC)

Laweeya Prairie, Tesserone, Roon
Several Months Later

The sun was starting to set in the west casting a golden glow across the Laweeya Prairie. Long were the shadows and even longer still were the days in which those shadows resided. A warm, gentle wind stirred the praire grasses as if whispering secrets of time long gone and time still yet to come. Today, on this very prairie, there was to be a wedding between two young loves, between two people who had known one another since childhood, between worlds, between families, and all therein.



Eleanor Vehn walked down the aisle in her wedding dress, a veil flowing about her in the wind, her hair streaked blonde from the hours of working outside. She was escorted by her father, Oisin Trieste who held her arm reassuringly and part of her wondered if she was steadying him rather than the other way around. She was so glad that she was getting married on Roon and it hit her hard as she walked down the aisle how she had missed the wide open plains, the smells of the farm, the living of a life that was full of hard work and yet deeply meaningful.

The audience stood as she walked past. She saw Robert Norden, who bowed his head deferentially in her direction. Further on was Kaitlyn Vehn looking as proud as ever. Several unexpected faces were seen such as Liam Vehn who stood on the opposite side of the aisle from Kaitlyn, the two of them not making any eye contact whatsoever. There was Sierra Atwater, her long-time handmaiden from her early days at Theed, the one who had gotten away from the media and had taken Eleanor out partying at a terribly young age.

The Triestes were in full attendance as well. Their clan dwarfed the friends and family that Eleanor could call upon. That was fine with her. She loved that side of her family as well. She felt the briefest flicker of shame as she made eye contact with Kerry Trieste, that venerable leader, that woman who seemed to make her living by being a good judge of character. The two hadn’t spoken since Eleanor’s untimely departure from the Republic, since the trial, and all of the memories and emotions that went with that experience. Eleanor wanted to say something to her aunt. Tell her that she had done the best she could and that the Republic, the Senate, maybe even the monarchy of Naboo, had never been her dream. First and foremost, Eleanor wanted to say how sorry she was for everything. How very sorry. Here she was, on the day of all days, her happiest day, and still there seemed to be some sort of chasm between the Vehn side of her and the Trieste side. That was unfortunate but it would be up to her to reconcile those two halves into a complete whole. Ideally Eleanor would’ve done that before the wedding but nothing was ever ideal in this galaxy. Not one thing. Well, Eleanor admitted, maybe one thing: her wedding had gone perfectly.

Oisin squeezed her hand as he guided his daughter to Rowan. The two men whispered words of encouragement, of love, before Oisin sat down next to Verity, May, and Austin. He looked upon his daughter proudly. There was nothing she could do that would ever sway his opinion of her. He had heard all the details of Eleanor’s escapades on Coruscant. But he wanted the truth. And he got the truth from his daughter. He loved her all the more for telling it to him, for trusting him, for loving him.

The ceremony began and as it did the light seemed to glimmer and glisten as the fading of the day continued. Today was the union of a new generation of Vehns. A hybrid of two powerful families and an extension of two very powerful philosophies: democracy and justice.

It was time for the rings.

“Dearest Eleanor,” Rowan said, “I take you as my loving wife, to hold and to cherish, in sickness and in health, until death do us part. Where you go I will go, and where you stay I will stay. Your people will be my people and your Maker will by my Maker.”

Eleanor fought back tears of joy as the ring slipped onto her finger a perfect fit.

“Dearest Rowan,” Eleanor said and then repeated her oath. She thought it right to include a passage from a holy book she once read of a people who lived in an ancient planet far away and their trials and tribulations. Something about that story called to her, resonated deeply. “Where you go I will go, and where you stay I will stay. Your people will be my people and your Maker will be my Maker.”

She eased the ring onto his finger.

“With the powers invested in me by the Roon Trade Organization I now declare you husband and wife,” the minister said.

Eleanor brought a delicate hand up to Rowan’s clean-shaven face. She hesitated for only a moment before being passionately kissed by her husband, by her dear friend. The crowd roared, whistled, hollered, and all who witnessed these nuptials saw in the two of them a future that looked bright and clear, glorious and beautiful.

The two of them held a dinner for all those involved with the wedding. They laughed, they shared stories, and when it was all over, when everything was said and done, they rode away on a rock hopper into the setting sun. Those who saw them leave waved goodbye and exclaimed quietly, “There begins the dawning of a new age.”

When they reached their honeymoon destination, a tent in the middle of the praire, far form the wedding, Eleanor lay on the bed and wrapped her arms around Rowan and whispered into his ear, “I love you.”

Rowan delicately kissed her and replied, “I love you too, forever and for always.”

“There’s one last thing,” Eleanor whispered before they made love.

“What might that be?” Rowan asked.

“I’m keeping my last name,” Eleanor insisted. “That is non-negotiable.”

Rowan laughed and replied, “I wouldn’t have you any other way.”

 

(Music inspired by a certain recent TV show that also featured a wedding... )

Roon



“This is unacceptable,” Ginnifer Lynd said at the Noble House’s table.

“Ginnifer!” Siona hissed at her daughter.

“This is a wedding!” Ginny insisted, “Where’s the dancing?”

“We’re in the middle of a field. Obviously not here,” Trixie Eldred said from across the table, “Besides, dancing is stupid.”

As usual, this just infuriated Ginny, who clenched her fist and puffed out her cheeks.

“There wasn’t any dancing at our wedding and you didn’t have a problem with that,” Sierra Iseult said.

“We didn’t actually invite anyone to our wedding, dear,” Trellam pointed out.

“Entirely beside the point,” Sierra said.

“I think it’s actually quite nice,” Atticus Eldred said, “It suits them.”

“No, this wedding would have suited me,” Nessa Trieste said, “It’s a very Chandrilan wedding. It’s not a very former-Queen-of-Naboo wedding.”

“It’s a very Vehn wedding, though,” Mandy Trieste pointed out.

“A very Vehn wedding,” her husband Ronan agreed.

“A very dry wedding,” Regan said, rolling her eyes and handing her husband’s pocket flask back to him underneath the table.

---

“Stop being dour,” Kerry chastised her son.

“We are less than a week from the election,” Declan said under his breath, “I am in a dead heat with—”

“Your cousin has gotten married. You will not complain,” Kerry commanded, “Nor you.” This last bit was directed at Ayn.

“I’m up by five. I’m happy to be here,” Ayn said with a broad grin.

“Not another word,” Declan growled.

“You know you love me,” Ayn laughed.

“What I would love is a district like West Cape Suzette.”

“Should have thought of that at the start of your grand plan,” Ayn said, patting his hand.

---

“I’d been expecting you to come by the Academy,” Fiona Westenra told her nephew Cillian Lynd.

“I’m done with that part of my life,” Cillian said, “It’s behind me.”

“No, it’s never going to be behind you,” Fiona said. She tapped her cybernetic leg with one finger. “It’s always going to be with you. You need to understand that.”

“I know,” Cillian said, flexing the fingers of his bionic hand.

“Talk about it,” Fiona said, “Doesn’t have to be with me, but with someone. I didn’t.” Fiona looked around. “It’s not why my marriage dissolved, but I’m sure it didn’t help. Don’t let that happen to you. For your sake.”

“Yeah. Destroyed Sierra. Look at her slumming it with the Hapans now,” Cillian said.

“Just because you have a steel fist doesn’t mean I’m not afraid to punch you,” Fiona warned.

“Just saying.”

---

When the bride and groom had left for the honeymoon, the guests milled about in the usual “that was nice, I guess things are over now” way. However, that was when Kerry got a hand and stepped onto one of the chairs to be seen and heard above all.

“Gentlebeings, your attention please,” Kerry said, “My niece might have been born on Roon and she might have chosen to be a Vehn, but she’s still a Trieste. Accordingly, we must celebrate this part of her heritage even if she chose not to do so. Therefore, in good Bakuran fashion, the Noble House is decamping to the nearest town with a bar and summarily taking over the joint and you’re all welcome to join. Now, I believe there are speeders around here somewhere? First person with local knowledge of said nearest bar gets 20 credits and I’m riding shotgun.”

---

“Oh my Maker I hate wedding food!” Trixie yelled over the jukebox, “There’s never enough of it! This is a good nerf burger!”

“You want to know why?” the bartender yelled back, “That nerf was alive two days ago.”

“Really? That’s so cool!” Trixie replied.

Down the bar Regan and her husband were getting a couple of beers (the flask having run dry from being passed between anyone who had any relation to being a Trieste). “How soon before we marry off Quentin and Trixie?” Atticus asked his wife.

“As soon as possible. I want some grandkids,” Regan said.

“They say they’re so much more fun,” Atticus said.

“They better be,” Regan retorted, “I did not go through Korriban raising Trixie to not get decent grandchildren that we will spoil and get revenge on her with!”

“I can tell you’re going to be a wonderful grandmother,” Atticus told his wife.

The topic of marriage was all around. “Only a few more years and we’re going to be throwing a wedding for Jane Serena,” Mandy told her husband.

“Heavens no. She’s only 17. She should finish college first,” Ronan said. He didn’t believe how time had flown.

“I barely finished college when we got married,” Mandy pointed out.

“I was okay with that because I wasn’t your father,” Ronan said.

“You had some choice words regarding my father’s objections to our early in life wedding,” Mandy said.

“And I’m going to go have some choice words with Antrose before knocks up the farmer’s daughter in the corner and we have an illegitimate grandchild,” Ronan said, coming out of his seat with his wife trailing behind to prevent a fracas from starting.

Elsewhere, Oisin and Verity were sitting with their arms around each other. “Well, that’s one off,” Oisin told his wife, “Two to go.”

“We won’t have to do this again for some time. It’ll be years before May gets married with her nose stuck in medical textbooks,” Verity sighed, “And Austin’s wife, whoever she is, will get her family to pick up the tab.”

“Even so, I think we did a fine wedding,” Oisin said.

“It wasn’t too Vehnny for you?” Verity asked.

“Heavens no. My sister is the only politician I could stand to be at a wedding with,” Oisin replied.

“You know my brother was here and was once RTO Chairman.”

“Like I said, my sister is the only—”

Verity just gave her husband a playful shove in the face.

At another table, Enoch Trieste, Elfie Trieste, Falene Trieste, and Alec Trieste were all making best with each other.

“No way she can do it,” Enoch said.

“She can too,” Elfie replied.

“She can’t,” Alec said.

“Quiet everyone!” Falene shouted, “She’s going to start!”

May Trieste put her left hand down on the wood table and picked up the steak knife that they’d pinched from the kitchen earlier. She took a couple of deep breaths before flipping the steak knife in the air and catching it again with blade down. Then, as fast as she could, she started the pattern of five finger fillet. Her cousins watched and held their breath to see if she’d accidentally stab her hand in the process. When she successfully finished the pattern, May stuck the knife in the table with a triumphant shout.

“Surgeon’s hands right there!” she yelled.

The cousins who had had faith in her whooped and slapped her on the back as they received credits from their doubting relatives.

At the end of the bar, Kerry was involved in a vehement argument with a middle aged Duros. “No, I really am the Chancellor,” she insisted.

“Yeah, sure,” the Duros said, “Like the Chancellor would be on Roon for a wedding.”

“I’m a lame duck Chancellor! I do whatever I want now!” Kerry said.

“No, if you were really a lame duck you’d already have a successor elected and those elections are next week. Nice try.”

“Do I need to call the Chairman of the RTO to tell you who I am?” Kerry demanded.

“Sure, yeah, right. You have the Chairman of the RTO’s number in your datapad,” the Duros said sarcastically.

“Look, if I put your picture on the next fifty credit chip, would you believe me?” Kerry said.

“Fifty credit piece? Who uses those? I’d want to be on the twenty,” the Duros said.

It was a pretty typical Trieste wedding.

---

Among the many wedding gifts brought was one flimsi envelope, hand addressed to Mrs. Eleanor Vehn. Inside was contained her Aunt Kerry’s gift, a stiff sheet of flimsi that read:

NOW, THEREFORE, I, Kerry Wyvern Trieste, Supreme Chancellor of the Galactic Republic, pursuant to the pardon power conferred upon me by the Constitution of the Republic, have granted and by these presents do grand a full, free, and absolute pardon unto Eleanor Vehn for all offenses against the Republic which she has committed or may have committed or taken part in during the period of 275 ABY through 276 ABY.

IN WITNESS THEREOF, I have here unto set my hand.

It was followed by the full and complete signature of Kerry Trieste.

Eleanor Vehn, at her pleasure, could return to the Republic at her pleasure.

 

OOC:


Dear readers

I helped start Bluebells and the Edelweiss around four years ago with the idea of continuing the saga of the Vehn family that was begun in my fanfiction, Bluebells of the Highlands. From their days on Roon working the family ranch of Tesserone, to the highs and lows of running Naboo, to interplanetary issues surrounding the economic union of the Roon Trade Organization, and the brief stint on Coruscant with the Republic, the Vehn family truly has been everywhere in the known Star Wars galaxy and done everything I ever asked of them as characters, as institutions, as an embodiment of an ideal of that magical galaxy far, far, away.

That time has now come to an end.

Therefore, it is with a sense of sadness that I now must conclude this wonderful story and close a particularly creative chapter in my life. I am making this decision to close out my portion of this story not out of boredom or because I have better things to do with my time. No, I am choosing to end this story because I feel a genuine sense of completeness and a strong idea that it is better to end a beautiful story on a high note and not when the going gets stale or the story stagnates into nothingness.

To those of you who have loyally followed Bluebells and the Edelweiss, in particular the Vehn portion, I wholeheartedly thank you for your support, your encouragement, and your dedication to my ideas, my characters, and all those emotions that fill in the gaps in-between. I have loved writing this story every day and especially lately. I have loved to see who ‘liked’ my posts and get the occasional feedback on certain plot points. I have loved every step of this journey and believe me that parting ways with this story has been a difficult choice but one I feel is a wise one to make.

It has been a true honor, a privilege, to write for you.

Thank you,

Vehn

OOC: The music will go for the entire piece.

​

Tesserone, Roon

Several years after the wedding

“That ought to do it,” Eleanor said as she hammered in the last nail on the home she and Rowan had been building for the past three months.

She wiped the sweat from her brow and looked up at her home with a big smile. The home was modest but comfortable and sat on a small rise above a lazy winding stream where giant oaks spread their branches and offered shade in those hot summer days that Roon was known to have. She was blessed that her parents wanted them to stay and work the family ranch and have given them a corner of the property to call their own. Yes, Eleanor thought, this was home now and she loved being here, back in touch with the wilds, back in touch with herself.

From the home one could see the Huscarl Mountain range to the north and the Lady Constance Mountain range to the south, the Laweeya Prairie in all of its magnificence jutted out east and to the west the capital of Nime barely outlined on a very clear day. Here the rains of spring would come and help the crops grow and also give rise to the moniker of the ‘mudmen of Roon’ who slaved away in their fields when all seemed lost. That perserverance, that dedication to their craft, made Roon a hard place for those without self-starting instincts. That was why Eleanor loved it out here so, far from the temptations of the city, here one could find their deepest desires, search their soul, and all the answers would spring forth. That was worth the isolation. That was worth the hardship.

“We did well, didn’t we?” Rowan asked as he kissed Eleanor.

“That we did,” Eleanor said with a smile.

“I’m only sorry it took us a few years to get our home finally ready,” Rowan said.

“I’m not,” Eleanor replied, “made us appreciate it all the more when we finally got around to doing it.”

“You sure know what to say to make a guy feel better.”

“No, just you,” Eleanor said.

“Grace will be excited to have a bedroom for once,” Rowan pointed out.

Eleanor laughed and elbowed Rowan in the ribs, “She’s gotten by just fine thank you very much.”

“Being spoiled by her grandparents doesn’t help anyone,” Rowan joked.

“She’s in good hands,” Eleanor said.

“Yeah, she is,” Rowan replied as they walked hand in hand across the acreage that they worked, that they loved.

---

Later that evening…

“I have something to show you, Eleanor,” Verity said after dinner.

Rowan and Oisin were out sharing a drink on the porch, laughing about something that had happened on the farm that day, shooting the nerf, so to speak. Grace was down for bed and only the crickets outside the open window could be heard as Verity led Eleanor to a dresser in her room.

“This is something I think you need to read,” Verity said as she handed Eleanor a flimsy letter written in a hand that Eleanor had never seen before.

“What is this?” Eleanor asked as she examined the paper.

“A letter from an ancestor of yours. I believe you know the name,” Verity said.

Eleanor looked at the hand-writing, “Airen Vehn?”

Verity nodded. “He lived during the time of the first Galactic Civil War and was the first of our family to get to know the Triestes. He worked with them to procur the Jaded Emerald of Sollost. Not an easy task, mind you. He is what I always considered the progenitor of our great family.”

“I had no idea,” Eleanor said.

“I thought this might give you some perspective on who you are, dearest Eleanor,” Verity said as she left Eleanor alone to read.

“Airen Vehn…” Eleanor repeated to herself as she opened the letter.

“To those who may come after know that I, Airen Vehn, am a man of good conscience and standing in this galaxy and that I have always striven to do my very best in everything I do. If you are reading this years from now know that I once took part in a grand adventure. An adventure of the heart and of the soul. There once was an emerald….”

---

4 ABY, Near Ord Mantell

Airen Vehn sat down in his ready room aboard the Marauder-class corvette Ession and examined his haul from the Jaded Emerald of Sollost job. He was set financially for the rest of his life and the lifetimes of anyone that might go beyond. Airen had decided that the best thing to do with the money, his earnings, would be to invest it wisely for those who might come beyond bearing the name of Vehn. He began to dictate a letter to his descendants so that they would know in the years to come what was truth and what was the mere retelling of a legend as all such great adventure stories were bound to be in due time.

He’d met a few peculiar individuals while on that job. The Aquarian, Nantow Muuska, his strange visage still alive in the mind of this rogue smuggler. Then there’d been the fanatical Imperial officer, Remis Klivian, who had chased Vehn from one end of the galaxy to another with little success. And there had been other rogues in between. Most had fallen by the wayside and hadn’t been there when the Jaded Emerald was ultimately found but one stood above the rest, one dressed in the gear of a Mandalorian, and he spoke in the voice of a Bakuran. The man called himself Niall Trieste and he was as cunning as he was deadly with those blaster pistols. Vehn knew a well trained gun-hand when he saw one. The two men had struck up a friendship after the job and had continued to correspond in their later years.

“And what of the Jaded Emerald?” Airen said aloud as he wrote on his letter. “What became of that?”

He stopped writing for a moment. A smile crept onto his face as he replied in the letter, “The Jaded Emerald of Sollost never was found again. Some say that it was kept by either Niall Trieste or Airen Vehn but they are wrong. The truth was that Niall Trieste, under the watchful eyes of his partner, Airen Vehn, blew up the Jaded Emerald of Sollost before it fell into the hands of the Eldar Star Society.”

Airen paused as he looked out at the stars and the orbiting world of Ord Mantell down below. Perhaps there was an intrepid woman on that scrap-metal heap of a world who would become his wife. Yes, he could make a home here. A new beginning. Free from the Empire and free from the sins of the past.

He smiled as he continued to write.

---

204 ABY, Jedi Temple on Ossus

“I believe that is your last shipment,” Derek Vehn said as he shook hands with a green-skinned lady whose strange physical appearance hid a brilliant mind and an even stronger person. “May the Force Be With You, Lexine Wydra.”

Derek headed up the massive landing ramp of his personal starship, the Acclamator class transport, Kyriad right as the enormous engines fired up and groaned under the load of taking the giant craft up and away from the planetary surface. From the bridge, Derek watched Ossus fade away and felt a small twinge of sadness. This was his last delivery that he would make to the Jedi. This was the last time that he would see Lexine Wydra and others whom he had grown to know and call friends. His duties were now being drawn elsewhere as rumors of war swirled in the Outer Rim. He would be called back into service. He was sure of that. What his fate was beyond fighting in another war he did not know. All he knew was that many, many, beings would die before the end.

He put a hand in his pocket and procured a worn out letter that had been passed down from one Vehn to another for generations. It was a letter written by Airen Vehn. He had started reading it the night before and now picked up where he left off.

“We are a family that has called many places home and a family that…”

---

248 ABY, Roon

Joaquin Vehn stood with his wife Rowena and surveyed the ground that was to be the start of their new home. They could build something great here. They could start something that no other Vehn had ever known. They could truly make a difference in the lives of those around them. All that he had to do was believe and trust that everything would fall into place. This portion of the galaxy needed hope. He wanted to provide that to them. He wanted to form an economic union that would fully represent the needs of the citizens who had once called the Republic their government and had since been discarded.

“We can do something great here, Rowena,” Joaquin said as he knelt down and pulled the soil from the earth. The soil was dark, rich, full of nutrients, good farming land.

“I know we can,” Rowena Vehn replied as she placed a loving hand on her husbands shoulder.

Joaquin let the dirt slip away from his fingers and recalled a letter that had been passed down from generation to generation. He’d read it aloud to Rowena when they’d been going through the atmosphere and hadn’t had time to finish it.

“has always strived to help those around us who are in need. Go forth, use the Vehn money wisely, and make a difference in the lives of others. Help them when they cry out, support them in hours of need, and do no wrong. Many in this galaxy are here to do evil. We are here to do good and always shall. So long as we remember that we were once much like those who have little money, little reason to believe, we shall always give those who desperately require in their lives the most basic of needs: hope.

Joaquin lowered the letter and looked at Tessserone. Yes, he knew what he had to do now. He could forget the sins of his past. How he had once been a young Jedi himself and his subsequent fall to the dark-side. His conflicts with the galaxy, with his mother, yes, he could do right.

“Rowena, my love, I have an idea that will change Roon and the surrounding planets forever,” Joaquin said.

---

Present Day, Tesserone

“Remember the struggles of those who came before. Honor and respect the trials of those who are about to come. Make sound decisions that fulfill the mind, body, and soul, and never forget that there was a time in the galaxy when the forces of good won over the forces of evil and a powerful emerald was destroyed by two great men, by two great families. I pray that they continue to honor their obligations in future, wherever they call home.”

Eleanor folded the letter neatly back into its slip and placed it back into the dresser. She walked out into the living room where she found Rowan, Oisin, and Verity, gathered around the table exchanging stories. She joined them and she laughed, she shared stories of her own, and as she looked at her family members, especially her parents, she realized just how inter-twined the stories of the Vehn and Trieste families had become.

She was, after all, half-Vehn and half-Trieste.

What a blessing.

---

Epilogue

Somewhere in the mountains of Roon

Eleanor and Rowan had decided that they needed to have a day away from the ranch. They went for a hike up in the mountains. The wind blew over the smoothed rocks and great waterfalls poured from the thick granite peaks of this wild world. Grace hopped around and tried to catch bugs that flew in her path. Eleanor couldn’t have asked for a more beautiful day. She nearly slipped on one of the smooth surfaces and fearfully clutched at her belly as Rowan steadied her.

“You okay?” Rowan asked, concerned.

Eleanor looked into Rowan’s eyes and smiled, replied, “Yeah, just fine. Baby should be okay as well.”

Rowan placed a hand on Eleanor’s belly and said, “That boy is a real kicker.”

“So you think it’s a boy, huh?” Eleanor teased.

Rowan laughed and replied, “I can only hope.

“Too much female energy in the household for you?” Eleanor replied.

“Would be nice to have someone I could play backyard Limmie with,” Rowan grunted.

“Oh, and Grace can’t play Limmie with you because she’s a girl? Nice one, Dad!” Eleanor said as she lightly tapped Rowan in the ribs.

“Ouch! That’s not what I meant! Whatever the baby turns out to be I would honored to be its father,” Rowan said.

“Now you’re talking,” Eleanor said as they trudged onward.

In a little while the three of them reached a beautiful mountain meadow. Here there were flowers of all kinds blooming, beautiful grass, and the majestic peaks all around them. Nothing could be heard up here, nothing but eternal beauty, that kind of soothing energy that was good for the soul.

“So beautiful here,” Eleanor exclaimed.

“That it is,” Rowan said as he wrapped an arm around his wife.

Grace came and snuggled up between them.

Eleanor allowed the mountain air to fill her senses. She relaxed and counted her blessings. She had come so far since her days on Naboo. She’d come so far since her troubles on Coruscant. Now everything seemed perfect. Everything seemed right.

“Mommy, look!” Grace said and pointed with her finger.

“Hmm?”

“A bluebell just like in the stories you tell me about Naboo!” Grace said.

Eleanor squinted and followed Grace’s finger to a cluster of bluebells that radiated their beautiful essence in the sunlight.

Eleanor was dumb-founded. “I thought those only grew on Naboo.”

“Wasn’t that the flower that you chose for your royal colors when you were Queen?” Rowan asked.

“It was, my, I’ve never seen one so beautiful,” Eleanor exclaimed. “Who knew that they also grew on Roon?”

Rowan gave her a look that said, I wasn't aware they did.

“Perhaps today is our lucky day,” Eleanor said with a laugh.

“Perhaps it is,” Rowan said with a smile.

“I love you both so much,” Eleanor said as she hugged Grace and Rowan.

From the meadow Eleanor could see the great Laweeya Prairie and Tesserone not far beyond. She thought of the letter of Airen Vehn. Thought of her family and all that mattered to her and she thought of the family that gathered around her now and those who would go beyond. Yes, Eleanor thought, there would always be Vehns in the galaxy in some way, shape, or form, and they would do good deeds as they had for centuries. She thought of the last line in Airen Vehn’s letter.

“And in the end family is all that matters. They will remember you long after you are gone and in that way you are immortal.”

“I’ll always remember this moment,” Grace said as she leaned into her mom.

Her eyes watered as in this moment she saw all that was, all that is, and all that could be and it was good. Eleanor felt a tear roll down her cheek. The first one in a long while

“I hope you do, my love, I hope you do.”

The End​

(For the Vehns, anyway )​

 

(And to those readers who remain, fret not if you have enjoyed the stories of the Triestes. There is still plenty to tell there and it shall be told in the days to come. With luck, we might find out a little bit about how those Vehns are doing from time to time. )

 

(Yes, indeed! Please follow the lives of the Triestes, with an occasional sprinkling of Vehn in there )

 

Great end to the Vehns' story! I look forward to hearing more of the Triestes and seeing the occassional Vehn cameo.

 

“Good evening, this is the BBC. I’m Wilhuff McKerran with our election night coverage.

“In the runoff election for Chancellor, Senator Ekworth of Commenor has defeated Diktat Antilles of Corellia by a margin of 54.3% to 45.7% to become the next Chancellor of the Republic. Many believed that ten years of rule by an Outer Rim Chancellor had ensured the victory of Antilles as the Core’s candidate, but Senator Ekworth pulled together a surprisingly strong campaign. Early political observers are calling this a confirmation of Chancellor Trieste’s viewpoint and political system. Chancellor-elect Ekworth, a Klatoonian, has already promised to begin coordinating with Chancellor Trieste to ensure continuity of government and an easy transition between administrations.

“Here on Bakura, with all polling places closed, the Federal Election Commission has, just minutes ago, officially announced that Epie Kalrado has defeated Komran Raabe, returning Fianna Fail to Marian Square for the first time in eight years. Kalrado is projected to win with a narrow 51.7% of the vote. Kalrado is expected to make a victory speech in less than an hour. Our reporters with the Kalrado campaign in Gesco City have reported that Raabe has already called Kalrado to concede and congratulate her on her victory.

“The narrow Fianna Fail may well be overshadowed by wider elections. After ruling the Senate for 24 years, Fianna Fail is in danger of losing outright control of the chamber for the first time since 256. The Union Party have successfully flipped five Fianna Fail Senate seats. This brings the currently confirmed seats to 40-39 in favor of Fianna Fail. Should the final Senate seat come in for the Union Party, we will have for the first time since the 252 elections returned a hung Senate. The balance of power in this hung Senate could sit with the six so-called ‘Green Vornskrs,’ led by Senator Silas Madsen of Arcterra. Madsen, a moderate member of Fianna Fail, lost two members of his caucus to Unionist victories today, which could decrease the chances that he would cross party lines and support a Unionist-led Senate. If he keeps faith with Fianna Fail and there is a 40-40 split in the Senate, one can only imagine that it will take a grand bargain, the like of which saw Han McKerran—no relation—made Deputy Prime Minister for the first administration of Kerry Trieste. We will have further analysis of that tomorrow evening.

“Though the Unionists turned five green seats to yellow, they lost their shot at a majority when they failed to hold West Cape Suzette. There will continue to be a Trieste in government in the galaxy as Ayn Trieste has unseated Senator Welquik to take back her grandmother’s seat in the Senate. At this moment, I cannot help but take a moment to remember Senator-elect Trieste’s mother, Gaeriel Dormingale, who once brought the news to you at this desk. I have no doubt that tonight she would be proud of her daughter.

“The last Senate seat to be called is in Telaan Valley, where another Trieste is running for office. Declan Trieste, son of the Chancellor, has fought Senator Jeldwen to a standstill. This comes after Trieste, Delcan that is, was down 15 points on his opponent. However, his controversial debate tactics turned the tide in that race. If Trieste wins the Telaan Valley seat for Fianna Fail, they will retain outright control of the Senate, which will greatly enable Prime Minister-elect Kalrado’s agenda for the planet.

“The election of Epie Kalrado has been largely attributed to the Union Party’s support for the Ssi-Ruuk War, which cost thousands of Bakuran lives and brought little in the way of gains to the planet. However, the fact that the Union Party has almost eliminated the Fianna Fail hold on the Senate shows that—

“Gentlebeings, I’m getting a breaking news report. The FEC has called Telaan Valley. The BBC is now confirming that…”

---

Golden Prairie, Telaan Valley, Bakura

“…the next Senator from Telaan Valley, Declan Trieste!”

A smiling Declan came onto the stage, having gotten the word just a few minutes earlier. The hotel ballroom full of supporters who had been so invested in this election were appropriately happy for their candidate’s victory. Flush with victory, Declan waved and grinned at all of them. This was not the mountaintop…but damn if this didn’t feel good. Now he knew why his mother had gotten into politics.

Speaking of which, the Chancellor had not wanted to crowd in on her son’s victory, but he had insisted that she come. He wanted her to see him now, see what he had achieved. He might have had her last name to help him, but this was still his victory. Even so, the Chancellor remained in offstage. She did not want anyone accusing her son of riding her coattails in his moment of victory.

“Thank you all so much for not just this, but for everything that you did to bring about this day. I am humbled and honored to be going to Salis D’aar as your representative. When I get there, as I’ve promised all campaign long, I will make a fair and equitable farm bill my first priority. There are many issues that I will vote upon and you have elected me on the basis of my progressive ideas in government. Those are the ideas that I will advance, including a new farm bill that is going to reward small family farms and strengthen the economic backbone of the Valley and create greater prosperity for all of Bakura.

“And know this: there are going to be two Triestes fighting for a farm bill for all of you because even though my wife represents Cape Suzette, trust me when I say that she is a friend to the family farm and to all of you. I only regret that she is not here tonight to tell you that herself.”

The crowd cheered at that.

“I’ll tell her that you consider her so highly when I see her soon,” Declan said with a smile.

“I don’t think you’ll have to.”

Declan turned around and, to his surprise, found his wife standing behind him. Her covert entrance onto the stage had been the reason for the crowd’s cheer.

“Benefit of Cape Suzette district: earlier poll closings and election returns than the Valley,” Ayn told the crowd with a grin before she kissed her husband.

This got the crowd going and further specifying was out of the question for the evening. It was now a victory rally in earnest. Declan and Ayn waved to their relatives and friends to join them on the stage and now the Chancellor consented to come out, accompanied by the woman who succeeded her as Prime Minister. The two of them made for an august assemblage of political clout. Throwing in Falene, who would be dashing to the spaceport shortly for her flight to Euceron with the Miners, added to the winners circle feeling at Trieste campaign headquarters.

“Congratulations, Declan,” Kerry said as she hugged her son, “I’m so very proud of you.”

They were words that Declan had long wanted to hear from his mother. “Thank you. The real work is to come.”

“Yes it is,” Kerry told him, “Yes it is.”

 

Bakuran Senate Building, Salis D’aar, Bakura

“I do solemnly swear that I will support and defend the Constitution of Bakura against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; that I take this obligation freely, without any mental reservation or purpose of evasion; and that I will well and faithfully discharge the duties of the office on which I am about to enter.”

Those words were repeated by every new Senator to the Bakuran Senate this day, the opening of the session. They were words that were repeated in tandem by two of the freshmen whose last names were both Trieste. With them, they became Senator and Senator Trieste, a political rarity, at least for Bakura. The last power couple of Bakuran politics had been Kirk and Indra Equus. The latter had already concluded her service as Prime Minister before her husband had taken his seat in the Senate.

With their swearing in by the Deputy Prime Minister, Declan and Ayn had joined the select group of 80 beings who formed the planetary legislature of their homeworld. It was an honor enjoyed by few—and the beginning of quite a bit of work. Though the Senate had begun for business, there was now a flurry of activity. The Deputy Prime Minister had to be reelected and that necessitated the Fianna Fail caucus meeting that Declan and Ayn could now legally attend. The incumbent Deputy PM was, as expected, returned to his post by a wide margin by the Fianna Fail Senators who then voted as a block on the floor of the Senate itself.

That duty taken care of, it was time for committee assignments to be handed out. As junior members, the Triestes would have to take what they were given. They had no clout in the Senate building (indeed, as was usual for new Senators they had been given the smallest and most distant offices available in the Senatorial office buildings). It took the grace of elder statesmen to receive a decent committee posting. Ayn and Declan knew what the reality of the situation was—and what they would have to do if they wanted to get ahead.

“Senators Trieste to see Senator Madsen, if he’s in,” Declan asked the receptionist in the substantially larger office foyer than either he or his wife had.

“Let me see if the Senator is available,” the receptionist asked, picking up her comm, “One moment.”

Silas Madsen had been returned to the Senate from the polar county of Arcterra for the fourth time. Since the end of the Bakuran Civil War he had held the seat for Fianna Fail against waves of Unionist challengers. His constituents were substantially more conservative than the typical Fianna Fail district, but Madsen had it locked down tighter than a shuttle airlock. He’d first gotten it through the support of Declan’s mother as return for his assistance delivering the important mining city of Blackbranch without a shot fired to the Marines during the Civil War. He hadn’t needed her to keep his grip on power. As a four term Senator, Madsen was a powerful man.

“The Senator is indisposed at the moment,” the receptionist came back, “I would recommend you try again later.”

“You may not remember, but junior Senators don’t have much to do,” Ayn said kindly, “We’ll wait.”

“We brought reading material,” Declan said.

They took their seats in the foyer. “By the way, I should warn you that we like to read aloud,” Ayn said.

“She makes me do the voices sometimes,” Declan added.

“Chapter one,” Ayn began, “Call me Ishmael…”

Three minutes later, the receptionist informed the Senators Trieste that Madsen would see them and they quietly went into his office.

“To what do I owe the…dare I say pleasure,” Madsen said, rising from his desk, “of two Triestes terrifying my staff with one of the longest and most boring Basic novels extant?”

“Forgive us,” Declan said, “but we wanted to ensure that we started off on the right foot.”

“And yet you attempted to traumatize my receptionist,” Madsen said with something between scorn and amusement, “You two are going to bring an element of surprise to the Senate, I can tell.”

“Senator,” Ayn said, “consider that in the light that we intended it: a sign not of disrespect but of how intensely we wanted to see you. I will be the first to admit that there has been bad feeling between our three families stretching back several years. I am here, for my part, to apologize for any slight that you felt in the course of events that led to our marriage.”

“Similarly, I am here to make it clear that no offense was intended in my decision to break things off with Becca. I continue to hold her in high regard, but that wasn’t reason enough for me to marry her. But more importantly, I hope that personal feeling will not obscure the fact that you and I share similar constituents. I know that you hoped that my relationship with Becca would bring us close together politically. We now find ourselves with similar legislative goals through the course of events. I believe we can still have that partnership, but on its merits, not by virtue of feelings one way or another,” Declan said.

“And you?” Madsen asked Ayn, “Do we share common political goals?”

“As members of the same party, we should,” Ayn said, “but I’d have to get to know you better, Senator. Let’s be honest—I’m here to make sure you don’t end my career before it begins. I have my ideals, but I cannot escape reality. Your word carries a lot of weight in these halls. I don’t ask that you speak well of me, just that you do not speak ill of me.”

“And in return for such consideration?” Madsen pressed.

“I would be inclined to temper my Suzetteer tendencies and support moderate measures, like those supported by your constituents, where I might otherwise be inclined to press for more extensive legislation,” Ayn said.

“And how do I know you won’t do just that to keep harmony in the bedroom?” Madsen asked pointedly, if not slightly brazenly.

“Because she’s most definitely in charge there anyways,” Declan replied.

Silas laughed at that. “This was not how I was expecting to start the session. It is nice to have a pleasant surprise for a change. Very well. You will find I will not hinder your path this session.” He extended a hand, but before Declan could take it he said. “Before you shake on this, son, you had better understand what you’re agreeing to. Beings who break their word to me never get out of the doghouse.”

Declan took the hand. “I intend to do good things with you.”

Ayn took Silas’s hand when it came her turn. “And I respect a being who deals squarely from the start.”

“A good beginning makes for a good end,” Silas said, “Now if you’ll excuse me.”

“Of course,” Ayn said and the pair withdrew.

When they were gone, Silas picked up his comm. “Yes, this is Madsen….Yes, about the Trieste appointments…get them out of the basement. I want something that will make them feel like they’re not being completely sidelined….Oh, keep Declan away from Agriculture. If he can’t shape the farm bill he’ll return to the Valley in defeat. As for Ayn…give her something that’s out of her zone, but seems important…let’s say…Armed Services. She’ll be buried beneath senior Senators so far that she’ll barely be able to ask a question. For Declan…surprise me….Yes, I know. I’m sure. But the Chancellor won’t be Chancellor for much longer. This is no longer her party and it’s time the rest of Bakura knew it….Of course Mr. Deputy Prime Minister. A pleasure voting for you as always.”

 

Chancellor’s office, Coruscant

Kerry’s office was no longer her office.

Well, it technically was, but it wouldn’t be soon. Her personal effects had been moved out. What remained now was property of the Republic. During the inauguration, movers would bring in the mementos and furniture selected by then-Chancellor Ekworth for his office.

This was truly a hard moment for Kerry. She looked out at the view that had been her constant for the last ten years. She would never see this view again. She doubted that she would ever be back in this office again.

A familiar set of steps crossed the carpet and Kerry turned with a smile. “I think we’ve done all there is to do, Saldor,” Kerry told her personal assistant. The Ithorian had kept her afloat for the last ten years.

“I think we have, Madam Chancellor,” Saldor said.

Kerry smiled at hearing her title once more. “I wouldn’t have gotten this far without you. You’ve done a lot for me—more than you should have.” It didn’t need to be stated that some of Saldor’s work, including his role in coordinating with Republican Intelligence to remove Tandy and develop the documents that had later incriminated her, was not exactly on the job description. Nor had it been strictly legal.

“It was an honor, Madam Chancellor,” Kann said.

“If you ever need anything, and I mean anything, you just let me know. You have my personal comm. Use it,” Kerry said.

“I will.”

“Promise.”

“I do.”

“Now give me a hug,” Kerry said, opening her arms.

They embraced for longer than most parting hugs went. When they finally pulled apart, she said, “Well, I suppose I have to see him now, don’t I?”

“I think so. Allow me,” Saldor said. He went to the office door and opened it. “Chancellor-elect Ekworth, Chancellor.”

“Chancellor-elect,” Kerry said warmly, “Allow me to give you the tour…”

---

Galactic Senate building steps, Coruscant


The eyes of the galaxy turned to the steps of the Galactic Senate where yet another peaceful transition of power would take place on Coruscant, the democratic process in action. As was customary, the incoming and outgoing Chancellors traveled together to the Senate building. The Chancellor-elect came through the front doors of the Senate building and descended the stairs to the platform constructed especially for the day. The outgoing Chancellor took a less prominent way onto the platform and took up her seat in the second row on the aisle. Twice she had sat on this platform in the first row, but that was not the place for her now. The first row was out of her reach forever now.

Every Chancellor put their own spin on the proceedings, but they all featured the anthem of the Republic.

“I vow to thee, my country, all earthly things above,
Entire and whole and perfect, the service of my love;
The love that asks no question, the love that stands the test,
That lays upon the altar the dearest and the best;
The love that never falters, the love that pays the price,
The love that makes undaunted the final sacrifice.”

The lyrics had always stirred something in Kerry’s breast (the soaring melody didn’t hurt). She had entered public life because of the example set for her as her father, because she had believed in government as a force for good, though not a panacea. She had exercised that force at the highest levels of her homeworld and her Republic.

And now that time was over. She had laid her life upon the altar of public service as an offering to Bakura and the galaxy. Kerry had considered whether to pursue an unprecedented third term. She felt deep down that she could have won it. In the end, she demurred. She knew that though she had more she could give, but there was nothing left to offer. The sun was setting on her time.

“I, Cornelius Gorath Ekworth, do solemnly swear as Supreme Chancellor of the Galactic Republic to advance and protect the Republic and all its citizens.”

With those words, Kerry Trieste’s chancellery ended. There was a sudden hollowness inside of her as she realized this. It was only with half an ear that she listened to Chancellor Ekworth’s inaugural address.

“…The Republic stands firm, tall, and proud. We have reached a level of prosperity not seen for decades. We have defended our borders and we have promoted peace. We have reached out hands of friendship to new corners of the galaxy,” Ekworth said, clearly extolling the work of his predecessor, “All these things and more shall we continue to do in the next five years.”

Kerry knew that the new Chancellor was dedicating himself to the course she had first charted. It was a great victory as far as political power went—to create a political paradigm—but it seemed a very small victory as she saw someone else stand at the podium that had been hers for many years.

---

The inauguration complete, Kerry Trieste walked out of the Senate building through a back exit. She was, for the first time in a very long time, not Chancellor Trieste, not Prime Minister Trieste, not Senator Trieste. She was Kerry Trieste, private citizen. Her time was over and she had left of her own accord, on her own terms. It didn’t make it any easier to leave.

She had told her children not to come today. Falene couldn’t afford the time in the middle of the season and she knew from personal experience that Declan needed to attend to many matters in another Senate building. Kerry knew that this was what was best for her children. Besides, what good would it do her children to see her on the way out the door? That wasn’t how she wanted them to remember her.

Senatorial Guard had all the entrances and exits of the Galactic Senate secured as a matter of course, but with the inauguration today security was tighter than usual. Even this relative back door had its complement of officers to ensure there were no breaches. A shuttle was waiting to take her to a nearby spaceport where Kerry would board a private shuttle, booked at her own expense, to return her to Bakura. It would be a quiet exit for the ex-Chancellor, but that was the way that it should be.

Kerry Trieste was about to descend to the landing pad where the shuttle waited for her when she realized that she stood just outside the doorway to the Senate and she realized, all too late, that she would never return to the Senate. She might come back to the physical place, but it wouldn’t be the same. She had left it forever.

Kerry began down the steps, lost in such thoughts to such a degree that she didn’t see the other being coming and knocked shoulders with him.

“Sorry there,” the Chiss said. He was about to continuing heading up the steps when he turned back. “You’re Chancellor Trieste, aren’t you?”

It seemed it had not taken the galaxy long to forget her. “No, the Chancellor’s inside somewhere.”

“No, you are. You’re Chancellor Kerry Trieste,” the Chiss said, “I’m with the Csilla Observer. We’ve heard all about you in the Ascendancy. Can I get a quick interview with you?”

“No,” Kerry said, starting down the steps.

The Chiss followed her. Apparently his press pass was a sufficient credential to pester a former politician. “They say you opened up trade with the RTO on an unprecedented scale for the Republic. Is that true?”

Kerry said nothing.

“They say that you were the greatest Prime Minister Bakura ever saw, that you that you single-handedly fought the Bakuran Civil War and saved the federal union,” the Chiss tried again. When he met with the same reception and Kerry kept walking, he said, “They say you won the Laurel Peace Prize, that you were the greatest statesman of our age.”

When Kerry still didn’t stop the the Chiss, in an exasperated last ditch effort, said, “They say you’re a being of vision!”

Kerry stopped, three steps to go before the landing pad. She didn’t turn around. She looked out at the Coruscanti skyline. She didn’t see the transparisteel skyscrapers. She saw the face of her mother, the pirate-turned-First-Lady-of-Bakura, smiling for her children. She saw her father with his chiseled jaw, the Second Father of Bakura. She saw the body of Willem Dorian, her father’s bodyguard, dead in the streets of Golden Prairie, after having given his life in exchange for hers in the assassination attempt that had nearly killed her father.

She saw Siona, triumphant at the 252 Fianna Fail national convention when the two of them had pushed her candidacy through a heated convention. She saw her father, lying in his deathbed, just months after her own election.

She saw the battlefields of Bakura, stacked with the bodies of federal Marines and Maple Flag soldiers amidst great gashes of land torn apart, the marauding flames of the armies she had commanded scorching the earth to end the rebellion.

She saw Declan and Falene as young children in the square at Nouvelle Orleans, the Civil War finally over. She saw Mihal lying face up in the theatre box when an assassin’s blaster bolt, meant for her, had taken him instead.

She saw Regan in the West Office having accepted Kerry’s offer to become a Supreme Court Justice, Kerry’s way of ending their long standing feud. She saw Sabé Dormingale in her seat on the floor of the Bakuran Senate as Deputy Prime Minister, smiling at yet another legislative victory and partnership with Kerry.

She saw the President of Tirahnn, the being who had threatened secession from the Republic yet had been willing to engage the candidate for Supreme Chancellor in an informal debate, shot down in the act of reaching across the ideological divide. She saw the crowds of people before the steps of this very building, the view she had just seen a few minutes ago, as she took the oath of office herself.

She saw her brother Conn laughing one of those rakish laughs that had come so naturally to him and then she saw his body prepared by the undertakers. She saw the body of his killer, Srin Andloinne, dead by Kerry’s own hand, her atoms scattered now, a mystery to be never solved.

She saw the rows of coffins, draped in the flag of the Republic, that came back from marauding against Coronad Ysenn, the price of security. She saw Kaitlyn Vehn and the Board of Tribunes with the trade accord, the adoption of which by the Senate settling an old debt to the Vehns.

She saw Falene lifting the Galactic Cup with her. She saw Declan and Ayn triumphant in Telaan Valley. Her children, half a galaxy away from her, right now.

The morning would had come when the world was hers. It would not come again.

“Chancellor Trieste?” the Chiss asked, bringing her back to the here and now.

Kerry paused and didn’t turn to look at the Chiss. “A being of vision, you say,” Kerry said, her voice hard and raw. She started nodding. “Yeah.

“Hell of a vision.”

She continued down the steps, the Chiss reporter standing and watching her leave. A member of the Senatorial Guard saluted Kerry as she walked up the ramp of the shuttle. She took a seat by one of the viewports and looked at the Senate building as the shuttle took off and headed for the spaceport.

As it flew through the skies, silent tears fell across Kerry Trieste's cheeks.

 

OOC: A fitting tribute and ending to a storied career. The galaxy will never see the likes of Kerry Trieste in her role as Supreme Chancellor, again. She will be missed. Keep reading people, keep reading!

 

Yes, that is a very well-written ending to her career. I hope that there is more to come.

 

Thanks Vehn! I know you can truly appreciate the scope of her journey.

There is definitely more to come, jcgoble3. So very much more to come.

 

Lynd residence, Gesco City, Bakura

“Rickard, how lovely to see you again,” Siona said.

“I’m glad,” Rickard said simply in his halting voice.

“How has the job hunt been going?” Siona asked.

“No luck yet,” Rickard said.

“Something will have to be done,” Siona said, “I’ll speak to some beings I know. Our veterans shouldn’t find it this hard to get a position. You all deserve better.”

“That’s not necessary, Mrs. Lynd,” Rickard protested.

“You are a friend of the family,” Siona said, “It would be a pleasure.”

“Mom, please,” Cillian said. He leaned his head towards Rickard to try to tell her to let him have his way.

“Very well,” Siona sighed, “but don’t think that I’m giving up. You will be in a position one way or another Mr. Carrow.”

“You are too kind, Mrs. Lynd,” Rickard said.

“One can never be too kind to one’s friends,” she said, “Now, dinner’s about on the table. We always appreciate your company.”

“Oh!” Ginny’s voice came from somewhere else in the house. A clatter of feet down stairs immediately followed and she showed up just as everyone was gathering in the dining room. “Rickard! Hi. Could you help me for a minute?”

Rickard looked at Cillian, who shrugged, and then turned back to Ginnifer. “Okay.”

“In the kitchen, if you please,” Ginnifer said, hurrying ahead of him.

Inside the kitchen, Ginny led Rickard around a corner. There was a small nook table with a plate of food on it. “I, uh, I thought you might like to actually eat rather than just watch the rest of us eat. I’ll smooth it over with Mom. No one will, ummm, bother you here. Take all the time you need.”

“That’s very nice of you,” Rickard said, looking at Ginnifer.

“I’m sorry we didn’t think of it sooner,” Ginnifer said, “I’ll just…” she motioned to the door. “You can come out whenever you’re done.”

Rickard said nothing as Ginny withdrew.

“Thank you,” he said after her.

Ginnifer stopped with one hand on the panel for the door and wondered if she should say something. Instead she just headed out of the kitchen to give Rickard his peace.

Rickard sat down slowly. He carefully removed his glasses and with them came the half face that was fake. The side of his face, usually hidden, was completely scarred, an eye missing. It was not a face for most dinner tables. Rickard looked at the plate before him for a moment and then slowly began to eat for the first time in the Lynd household.

 

Gesco City, Bakura



Henrietta Loring was usually not expected to see her parents on the weekend. After all, they were rarely in the same place at the same time. Her father, born into the House of Sweetwater, preferred to spend his time at the family estate in Prytis. Her mother, however, spent her time in the city. It seemed that both felt it was an entirely proper arrangement. That meant that Henrietta usually stayed in Evenvale, where she was attending university.

However, her mother had sent word that Henrietta was expected in the city this weekend. The daughter dutifully appeared.

“Good morning, mother,” Henrietta said as she came into the library where her mother was writing.



“Good morning, Henrietta,” Mrs. Yve Loring said, looking up from her typing, “I had hoped that you would catch a flight last evening.”

“Mother, you know that I find night travel ghastly. Besides, I do have a life at Evenvale,” Henrietta replied.

“One that does not include sorority commitments,” Yve said, a slight edge to her note.

“For the last time, I didn’t care about pledging,” Henrietta groaned as she took a seat in the library, “I wasn’t interested in their vapid tittering.”

“That ‘vapid tittering’ as you call it is the very vital business of networking. Those girls are going to go places. You want to be remembered by them. I still keep in contact with my sisters.”

Henrietta just rolled her eyes. “Silly me. Here I thought university was for an education.”

“Only if you’re going to be an old maid and have to work for a living,” Yve said, “and that’s precisely why I’ve brought you here.”

“Mother, I’m majoring in history and that’s final.”

“Oh I don’t care about that,” Yve said dismissively, rising from her desk, “No, we’re here to talk about your future. I let you have your way these last two years but you’ve met absolutely no men at Evenvale. Considering the prestige of their School of Business, that’s absolutely ghastly.”

“I am 20 years old. I do not understand your obsession with finding me a husband,” Henrietta exclaimed.

“Dear, the clock is ticking. Not on you dear,” Yve said, taking a seat next to her daughter, “but on everyone. Early dewback gets the womp rat. Before you know it the young men of quality will be snapped up and you’ll have to settle for some merchant’s son. For all your protestations of wanting a career, I doubt you’d like that to be in a shop somewhere tending the counter. No, this weekend we’re going to begin making arrangements for you to meet some eligible young men.” Emphasis on eligible.

“Why must you force this upon me? I’m the one who’s getting married,” Henrietta protested.

“Come now, you haven’t even met any of them,” Yve chided, “You might actually like one and then you’d be thanking me.” She brought up a holographic display from the coffee table. It was a social register of notable families on Bakura. “Let’s start with the old families, shall we? You’re a Sweetwater and descended from a Prime Minister, and that carries weight even if the relation is distant. The nouveau riche can be so fleeting. Let’s see…Arden, oh heavens no. The so-called ‘first family of Bakura’ has such a high opinion of themselves with so little to back it up….the Beldens. Fine family, but no money. Epie Belden would be aghast if she knew.”

Henrietta was bored out of her mind, glad that her mother wasn’t concentrating on her for a moment.

“The Lynds, Force no. Maria Lynd is insufferable,” Yve said, “But perhaps one of the outlying branches…” She tapped her chin with one finger three times before swiftly flipping through the register. “Cillian Lynd…no he lost that arm in the War and refuses to get a decent cybernetic. Mark of a rebellious strain. That will not do. But the rest of the Noble House…now that’s an idea. In fact, I think we’ve hit upon it.”

“Oh come on mother,” Henrietta said, “All the sorority sisters are swooning over the mere thought of marrying a Trieste. Everyone’s going to be angling for them. Everyone know that Dormingale’s granddaughter married the Chancellor’s son. The crown prince of the Hapes Consortium married one of them and now she’s heir to the throne. And I think I heard Eleanor Vehn is married too.”

“Only further proof the sorority sisters know what’s what. The Triestes are marked for greatness. You don’t produce three Prime Ministers and a Chancellor without knowing what’s what,” Yve said, intently flipping through the Trieste records, “You could learn something from the titterers. Lucky for you, you’ve got me. Now let’s see…Alec Trieste…grandson of a Jedi Master. Not bad. Ugh, 16. Can’t have you robbing the cradle. Quentin Eldred…he’ll probably turn out to be an attorney if his parents have anything to say about it. 18…possible. I wonder if he’ll be headed to Tiarest like his mother. Austin Vehn…no Bakuran connection. Probably living in the boondocks on Roon. Filthy place. More nerfs than properly sentient beings there. Oh…”

Henrietta sat up. “Oh…” did not sound good. It sounded like her mother had scented blood.

“My dear,” Yve said with a smile that betrayed her cunning, closing the hologram, “We have business in Nouvelle Orleans and it’s going to require a good dress. We have shopping to do.”


TAG: CPL_Macja (Grandma Arden is not forgotten!) jcgoble3 Tim Battershell Vehn

 

Belden Office Building, Salis D’aar, Bakura



There was a particular clack of high heels on marble floors that had been heard throughout the halls of the Belden Office Building for the past few months. They had traversed every hallway, entered every office and the woman to whom they belonged had invited every Senator to tea and listened and learned to her colleagues with deference and unalloyed interest. The sound of those heels was quickly becoming recognizable by secretaries, staffers, and politicians.

The heels belonged to Ayn Trieste, freshman Senator. It had been just over ten years ago that her grandmother had left the Senate to assume the Prime Ministership under the constitutional provisions of government. Many of the Senators that Sabé Dormingale had known, with whom she had forged alliances, and of whom she had earned their trust remained and her granddaughter had used this entrée to her benefit. Her fellow 78 Senators had welcomed her politely at the worst and warmly at the best. She asked for nothing at these meetings, just their time, and if there was anything she could do for them, within reason of course, she did. Now was not a time to ask for favors. Now was a time to do them.

Ayn had been assigned two committee seats. The first was the relatively unimportant Commerce Committee. The second was where she had arranged with her grandmother to exert some influence. Ayn had been slated for a seat on the Armed Services Committee, but that had been too small of a pond for her. Ayn knew exactly where she wanted to be and she’d gone after it with a vengeance: Appropriations. The power of the purse was what Ayn knew would be important and a reminder of past favors rendered to the Fianna Fail leadership by Sabé had gotten her in there. It meant that Ayn was now in a position to vote on pet projects and favored causes for many other Senators and it made it a good idea for other Senators to come to tea when Ayn invited them. Not everyone had been happy about a first-term Senator getting a seat on Appropriations, but what was done was done.

But there were limits to the use of power. Ayn faced that every day. She entered the office, other than her own, that she visited more than any other.

“Is the Senator available?” Ayn asked the secretary.

“Go right in.”

Ayn did and knocked briefly to herald her entry. Inside the office was a very glum Senator—her husband. Declan had not gotten much in the way of committee assignments. He’d badly wanted Agriculture and had made that clear to the leadership (reminding them precisely what his last name was). What he’d gotten was the Environment and Public Works Committee and the Rules and Administration Committee. They were so far down the totem pole that you almost couldn’t see them from Appropriations. Unlike former Prime Minister Dormingale, former Prime Minister Trieste had no interest in meddling in politics, even if it was for her son’s benefit.

“How was your day?” Ayn asked.

Declan rolled his eyes. “If I have to go to one more subcommittee meeting about the administration of senatorial buildings, I am going to hang myself from a wall sconce,” Declan said, slumped in his chair behind his desk.

Ayn locked the door to the office behind her.

“You have to stay on that committee,” Ayn said.

“I know, I know, because you don’t get anything overnight in the Senate,” Declan said.

“No, because you need to quash any investigation into the brewing scandal of how Senatorial office buildings are centers of licentiousness where beings are having sex on their desks,” Ayn said, clearing a space on Declan’s, “Now get out of those clothes.”

“Yes dear,” Declan said with a smile, “Now be quick—Mother wants to see us at Kilmainham Brook tonight.”

“Being quick is never the point,” Ayn said as she reached behind her to unzip her dress.

---

Trieste residence, Nouvelle Orleans, Bakura

“May I introduce Mrs. Yve Loring and her daughter, Henrietta, of Gesco City? They were in town for a visit and were kind enough to accompany tonight since I had already committed to attend your soiree.”

“Mrs. Loring, a pleasure to meet you,” Mandy Trieste said, “Any friend of Kora’s is welcome here.”

“You are too kind,” Yve said, “Here we are imposing and all.”

“Nonsense,” Ronan said, “Trieste parties have a way of having more people than were invited to them show up. We’ve gotten used to it.”

“All the same, how very kind of you,” Yve replied, “Henrietta and I were just enjoying a little break to get her mind off her studies. I think she works too hard.”

“UBGC, I take it?” Ronan said.

“Evenvale, actually.”

“You don’t say. I was an Archer back in the day,” Ronan said with a smile, “Glad to hear the place hasn’t changed. I don’t suppose you’re in the Business School?”

“No, History, despite the fact that my mother thinks I should choose something more practical,” Henrietta said, giving the woman in question a look of disapproval.

“Nothing wrong with a degree in History,” Mandy said, “It’s more education than I got.”

“Well, I don’t have your singing voice, so I think I’d better keep with my studies,” Henrietta said with plenty of self-depreciation.

“I don’t have my singing voice anymore either, so I think we’re about even,” Mandy said.

“I hear it’s stayed in the family,” Yve said, “Is it true that your daughter is working on an album?”

“I can’t comment on deals that may or may not be in the works,” Mandy said coyly.

“Of course,” Yve said, “I understand completely.”

“Speaking of which,” Ronan said, reaching out and grabbing a young woman with wavy gold hair, “Jane Serena, Mrs. Loring and her daughter Henrietta. They’re visiting from Gesco City.”

“Oh! Do you know Aunt Siona and her family?” the teenager asked.

“Not really, but we attend some of the same functions,” Yve said, “I’m familiar with your aunt on sight.”

“Listening to how she talks, you’d think Aunt Siona knows everyone,” Jane Serena said.

Yve’s face twitched. “It’s a large city,” she stated.

“Ah, and you’re in luck—our eldest son,” Mandy said, “Antrose!” She beckoned with one hand. “Hard to pin him down sometimes.”

“Ever since we sent him off to D&M he’s enjoyed his independence,” Ronan said.

“But I still cash your checks so that’s got to count for something, Dad,” the young man said, approaching the knot of people.

“That you certainly do. Antrose, this is Mrs. Loring,” Ronan said.

“Mrs. Loring? As in Mrs. Airen Loring?” Antrose said.

“You’ve heard of him?” Yve asked, with interest.

“His work in the county treasury office was quite notable. It was a case study for one of last semester’s accounting classes,” Antrose said.

“He’ll be quite flattered to hear that,” Yve said, “How nice to know that the great Dixie university cares about the affairs of far-off Gesco City.”

“D&M’s business school is top ranked,” Antrose said.

“When there are only ten elite universities, everybody gets to say they’re in the top ten,” Jane Serena pointed out. The remark drew a look like vibrodaggers from her elder brother.

“I was willing to send you to Evenvale, but you didn’t bother to apply,” Ronan said, “If you had, perhaps you’d be doing as well as Mrs. Loring’s daughter, Henrietta, here.”

“Oh!” Antrose said, taking notice of the young woman for the first time, “Hello.”

“Hello,” Henrietta said.

“Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.”

“Mr. Trieste, could I impose upon your children to occupy Henrietta for a moment while I impose upon you?” Yve interposed, “Kora has talked my ear off about what a tidy little institution your running. What is it? Dawes Tomes—”

“Yes, more or less,” Ronan said with a smile.

“Well, she said that she’s been very happy there and I’m thinking that perhaps it’s time to move some investments around,” Yve continued.

“I’d be more than happy to talk about the details,” Ronan said.

“Wonderful,” Yve said, sumptuously. She took an arm of Mandy’s and one of Ronan’s, placing herself between them. “Shall we?” Over her shoulder she said to her daughter. “Have fun, dear.”

Henrietta just gulped as she was left with the two Triestes to fend for herself—just as her mother wanted. It was annoying how much her mother always got her way.

 

Nice.

Is the first part missing something? It ends rather abruptly in the middle of a sentence like it got cut off.

 

I forgot what I was going to write, so I just ended it gracefully.

 

To those who have faithfully followed this story, there comes an end to stories sometimes. As Vehn finished his story arc, so the arc of the Triestes comes to something of a natural stopping point. In the associated RPG, Elite League Limmie, you will find that Falene Trieste has assumed the mantle of leadership from her mother and become the next Taoiseach. With this no longer being a collaborative effort, I am taking the opportunity to restart my previous convention of fanfiction, which is to write it under the mantle of the fictional Annals of the Noble House of Trieste, which are organized by Taoiseach. With Falene becoming the tenth Taoiseach, the tenth volume of those Annals now begin. You may read them here.

If you enjoyed the Triestes' story here, then I hope you'll continue to enjoy them in their new home.