EMCOTS 15

=Emergence (Concertverse) - Chapter 15=
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==Fears and Hopes==
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Fort Defiance
Near Roslyn, Eastern Islay
Arcadia, Arcadian Royal March
Royal Federation
26th October, 3142
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Seated to the west-northwest of the city center of Roslyn, Fort Defiance was one of the most important bases in the Armed Forces of the Royal Federation.  Built in the 30th Century to protect Roslyn in the event that the Tabots or other foes attacked the liberated world, it was now a sprawling complex with enough hangar facilities, vehicle parks, and housing to support two BattleMech regiments and their attached brigades or divisions, as well as the 1st Arcadian March Militia Brigade and its regiments of BattleMechs and vehicles.  It included basic intake training facilities for new enlistees, the Federation's Military Medical Research Center, and the Fort Defiance Officer Commissioning School.
This demanded the Fort expand from its initial fortified base to being a city of over a quarter million in of itself, moving to encompass an entire run of the Rha River before it entered Roslyn proper and came to its mouth at the western side of Sinclair Bay.  A great deal of the space south of the river was preserved for the training ranges, where MechWarriors, vehicle crews, and infantry conducted the basic exercises and field training maneuvers needed to keep themselves in shape for combat.  The range included a mockup of a small town and road layout for an urban region, although immense holographic projectors served to provide the appearance of buildings for the latter.
It was through a maze of said holographic buildings that Nathaniel Proctor guided his BattleMech, the white-and-gold painted PLD-3 Paladin known as the Liberator, the Proctor family's prized BattleMech.  He made a tight turn and squeezed the triggers for his torso lasers, causing emerald beams to cut through the air and into a holographic target that turned green on his cockpit holotank; a solid hit.  Maintaining a run, he fired a second shot, this time with his arm-mounted particle projection cannon, a Vickers-Armstrong Mk. 8 Royal model.  The shot only got him a yellow result this time as the crackling bolt of lightning only brushed the mid-air target.  Undaunted, he brought the right arm of his 'Mech up and swept a 'Mech-scale sword through the target, which now turned green.  Lost some points there, he thought.  He was ahead of the curve by about ten seconds, at least, but his score would suffer for requiring a second shot.
He spotted the new target in time to twist his 'Mech toward his right, barely evading a simulated laser shot from a holographic foe.  He jinked left and fired just as his foe did.  The simulated beam brushed the shoulder of his 'Mech, but his own beams cut through the target, turning it green.
A high target appeared and he angled his 'Mech's back slightly, raising the torso before he pulled the trigger.  Two of his missile launchers successfully locked on and "fired", at least in the simulation, sending twelve digital SRMs to crash into the target and turn it green.  The Streak technology of his three torso launchers just preserved some of his score, much as it would have preserved ammo by not firing with a failed lock..
The next turn mandated on the course was a tight one, putting him in an alley with just enough room to move forward but not to turn.  On the other end a target was present, marked as a shooting one, and opened fire on him.  He ducked, turning a solid hit on his torso into a glancing shoulder blow, and spit his crosshairs on the target.  It won't miss again, he thought while hitting the firing studs and triggers on both joysticks.
The alpha strike sent his heat firmly into the redline, but had the desired effect as most of the shots hit home and the target flashed green.  In a real fight, the barrage of SRMs, the ppPPC]], and his lasers would have indeed reliably gutted a light 'Mech, maybe even a medium weight machine, and a pilot would have strained to keep their 'Mech standing after losing so much armor and mass from their machine.
He emerged from the alley way with the 'Mech torso turned as much as he could in the confined space.  This let him get off a shot with his lasers that speared another target just before it could fire, turning it green.  His simulated heat remained high and his machine slowed, obeying the simulation parameters by hindering his myomer as if it was truly overheated.  Given how many heat sinks were packed into the Liberator, though, the heat fell away, giving him the full range of power and motion for the final sprint to the literal finish line.  He focused everything on keeping his 'Mech running until he breached the checkered line projected on the ground.
"Course complete, Your Majesty."  The female voice of the range operator spoke with the same Anglo-Scot accent he favored.  "Eight minutes twenty-three seconds.  That's a high one even for you.  Great shooting and moving, too.  Overall score is in the ninety-seventh percentile."
"Thank you, Sergeant." he replied, already moving his 'Mech to the side.  With the simulation over his remaining built up heat vanished from his display.  He took in a breath and let himself relax in his command couch.  Keeping sharp with his MechWarrior skills was something expected of him more than something he considered a priority, admittedly.  He didn't have the same "itch" to pilot 'Mechs other MechWarriors developed.  He'd never faced combat either, just simulated fights and training exercises from his days in the Bolan Heavy Guards and his earlier military education.  The closest he'd come to a fight was an intervention into the forces of two squabbling Bolan city-states skirmishing over one of Bolan's clean water sources, and they backed down when his lance intervened.
I need to be honest with myself.  This is not just about duty now.  The situation on the other side of the Looking Glass… it's the kind of fight we were meant to involve ourselves in.  The atrocities these Clans commit must be stopped.  I can't ask others to fight the war if I won't.
It was a sobering thought to make.  While a number of his predecessors fought in battle, including doing so as ruling monarchs, it rarely ended well for them.  Sara often led from the front in the Liberation War, nearly dying several times in the process, and that she lived to die in bed just a few years shy of her hundredth birthday could be attributed to her never taking the field of battle after the Liberation.  Her son, March-Prince William Proctor, led the war with House Rayhan from the front during the 2990s, ultimately destroying his health in the process and hastening his death.  William's grandson, High King Thomas Proctor, likewise led from the front, and would be gravely wounded in the invasion of Terra and die twelve years later leading Arcadian forces fighting on Tikonov.  Nathaniel's great-grandfather, Thomas' son Ethan Proctor-Steiner, led from the front repeatedly and was mortally wounded in the first campaign of the 4th Succession War.  Grandmother Jacqueline was likewise gravely injured, and only spent the rest of the war behind the lines because she couldn't pilot a 'Mech in combat from her injuries.
And there was his father's fate as well.  Killed on Sirius, barely a year before the 4th Succession War finally came to a close.
War kills people.  That's never going to change.  What matters is why the killing happens.  I'd rather die fighting for a cause worthy of my family's ideals, if I must.  Not like Father getting killed over old blood and hurt egos.
Another Paladin came tearing up the straight away from the simulated alley.  This one was painted in the blue-silver-gold of the Household Guards, with the insignia of the Proctor Heavy Guards — a white hawk on a gold disc bearing a silver sword raised in its talons — painted prominently on the chest.  It ran through the finish line and came to a stop about thirty meters from him.  After a few moments his comm-system crackled to life. "I may be getting too old for this," Prince Peter admitted.  "Nine minutes fifteen seconds.  I used to do this course in eight-thirty or faster, and ninety-fifth percentile or better, not eighty-fifth."
"To be fair, Uncle, you don't practice as often either," Nathaniel pointed out.  "I'm surprised you agreed to making the run with me today.  Did the Senate annoy you that much?"
A deep sigh came loud and clear through the comms.  "Dame Tessa is a force of nature, but she can be reasoned with.  Many of her colleagues, however, are not so reasonable.  The honorable Senators from the Bolan Principality are complaining about the proposed taxation changes to fund the expanded naval program, and held up the vote on the new subsidies to the shipyards until they got a term guaranteeing funding for their projected DropShip yard at Gypsum and a two percent reduction to import duties.  The Treasury is scrambling to re-write the budget.  And they still won't vote for the tax change."
"I thought they would be trouble."  Nathaniel put his 'Mech into motion, moving it at walking speed towards the range exit five kilometers to the north.  His sensors confirmed Peter was following.
"Maybe your grandmother might put in a word?  The Empire's naval buildup has to be met, even if we don't exceed it."
"I'll mention something, but if my talks with Emperor Robert come to fruition, it'll relieve the need."
The silence that came from the other 'Mech spoke volumes.  So did the exasperation in Peter's voice.  "Nathaniel, I know how much the idea of a permanent peace means to you, but you don't end a century of hostility so easily.  Not when we have so many open issues remaining.  Especially not given the other matter you're having me speak to the Privy Council on."
"Are you saying that Archduke Kenneth would oppose my marriage to his grand-niece, and the return of the Principality title to House Marik, over worlds that haven't flown a Marik flag in a century?"  As diplomatic as he wished to be, Nathaniel couldn't keep the irritation from his voice.
Peter's voice came back just as irritated.  "When his entire Principality, including his capital, have been attacked repeatedly over the years by the Empire?  Yes, Nate.  Yes, he may just oppose you, because the security of his worlds are going to matter more than a title or even finally getting Marik blood into the main Proctor line.  And Skye will be incensed over the Sirians being left in Capellan hands, given how they've already got Azami raiders on one front."
"Just because I want a permanent peace doesn't mean I'm going to disarm the Federation."  Nathaniel stopped his 'Mech and turned it to face his grand-uncle's.  "But think of how much we've accomplished with twenty years of mostly being at peace.  Of all the worlds we've finally re-settled, the cities we've rebuilt.  The economy is stronger than it's ever been!  Meanwhile every pound that goes into building another battleship is a pound we take from our people, including our very poorest citizens.  It's a pound that could finance an expansion of the Rural Medical Service, or Lady Prestwick's proposed Federal Health Service, or Dr. Allen-Eckstein's Higher Education Initiative.  Give me time and I know I can convince them all.  Because a century of hostility, I know, it's a lot, but the last time the Great Houses of the Inner Sphere let their hatreds simmer and boil over, it tore down the Star League and left the entire Inner Sphere a shattered mess!  We can't let history repeat itself, Uncle Peter.  I can't."
He waited quietly for a response from Peter.  Just as he thought none would come, Peter's voice sounded through his speakers.  "You're a good man, Nathaniel, and given time I think you may be one of the greatest monarchs the Inner Sphere has ever known.  But the universe isn't always kind to good men or to their people.  Harold Duncan, Aleksandr Kerensky, Michael Davion, Roweena Kurita, they were all good people who tried to do good things, and it destroyed everything they stood for.  I don't want that to happen to you.  So trust me when I say that you're going to have to moderate some of your expectations.  Even if a permanent peace is signed, it could take decades.  It may not even come in your lifetime.  So don't try to force it."
There was a weariness in Peter's voice, matched with sheer earnestness, that kept Nathaniel from trying to argue the matter.  He's not like Arnold or the other military generals, the ones who want to 'set right' the failure in '23.  He's doing his job.  He's trying to help me, Nathaniel reminded himself.  "I understand, Uncle.  And even though we don't always agree, I want to thank you again for looking out for me.  I couldn't have a better Council Lord than you."
"Flatterer," Peter replied, a bit of mirth in his voice.  "Speaking of, I need to go put this 'Mech up and get showered.  I have an afternoon meeting with the Council today."
Nathaniel put Liberator into motion again.  "Regular business?"
"Yes.  And that agenda item you asked me to see through.  If it works out, I'll let you know."
"Thank you again, Uncle Peter.  I'll be ready when you have the answer."
"Thank me when you tie the knot, and not before, Nate.  Nothing in politics is ever guaranteed until the votes are all had and the deed's done."
Indeed not.  But I want this to be done.  Oh so very much.  Nathaniel picked up Liberator's speed, bringing the Paladin 'Mech into a run that Peter quickly matched.  He had other items on the agenda, both for his peace plans and his formal response to Lady Trillian.  She should be here within three to four weeks, if the JumpShip scheduling holds.  Maybe faster.  I've got that long to get arrangements made with the Command Staff.  If they'll listen to me…
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While the Royal Palace primarily existed to support the High King's executive affairs and the meetings of the Privy Council, the realities of the Second Age of War raging during the palace's construction meant that the subbasement levels, including the War Room, were built to support the AFRF Command Staff.  Desired proximity to the monarch led to the persistent refusal by two generations of AFRF senior staff to relocate their day-to-day operations to Fort Defiance, even though it meant putting their space at a premium for lack of spare room in the levels above.  Such was the price they were wiling to pay to be close to the ruler they served under.
One level below the War Room was the domain of the AFRF Planning Staff.  The personnel here, primarily staff officers, maintained all of the AFRF's operational war plans, updating them as new intelligence arrived from all manner of sources.  As head of the Planning Department, this was Lord Arnold's domain, and he governed it tightly, recruiting the best and brightest and those who could, crucially, keep a secret.
This meant there was little concern to be had at the partial meeting of the Command Staff that occurred in the main conference room adjacent to his office.  Along with Grand Admiral Stewart were several heads of the military: Dame Bethany Townsend, Marshal of the Army, and her Departmental chief of staff Lord Paul Steiner-Brewer; the Chief of Naval Operations Grand Admiral Pastig without his chief of staff; Air Marshal-General Lady Juliana Steiner, Chief of Staff of the Aerospace Forces, with Admiral Sir Peter Lumwe, the head of the Navy's Aerospace Forces.  Only the relatively small Marines went unrepresented among the frontline combat services.
There were others there.  Air-Marshal General Nadia Semyenova, Arnold's chief of staff, had a seat beside him.  The Chief of Staff for the Military Intelligence Department, Sir Guy Montague, sat in the company of two of his own senior officers, while further down the seats were held by Senior Air Marshal Lady Ophelia Newson and General Sir Feodor Rosinsky, the AFRF's Quartermaster-General and her chief of staff.
Apart from all the figures in red and blue AFRF duty uniforms were a few figures in civilian wear, at the far end of the table: Deputy Director Elisabetta Rinaldi of the Special Information Service, the Federation's primary intelligence agency, Lord Giacomo Zento, the Senator from Summer, and Sir Donald Stewart, the Senator from Stewart and cousin of the AFRF Chief of Staff.
Arnold hid a frown.  There were a few more figures he'd wanted to see, and their absence meant they no longer concurred with the desires of the wider circle.  Either they were swayed by Nathaniel's wild idealism, or they simply wish to preserve their own freedom of action given our situation.
"We have two important matters before us," Grand Admiral Stewart said, opening their discussion.  "For one, an emissary from the Archon of the Lyran Commonwealth is coming from the other side of the Glass.  Lady Trillian Steiner-Davion is her name, and her professed mission is to 'establish the basis for our relations'."
"She comes to ask for our help," Montague said, his boredom clear.  "Even with the intelligence picture so bad, it's clear from what we know the Lyrans need it."
"And the King is inclined to grant it," Arnold said to the assembled.  "He's already talked about a Royal Order opening part of the Strategic Reserve to be shipped to the Commonwealth."
Some faces didn't bother hiding frowns.  The Strategic Reserve was a surplus of war material stored on key worlds across the Federation, mostly surviving equipment from the 30th and early 31st Centuries.  For the Federation it represented the means to rapidly mobilize extra regiments in event of war breaking out, including at least ten BattleMech regiments.  Nathaniel had already tapped the Reserve to upgrade the March Militia in Skye earlier in the year; to let him ship those 'Mechs and vehicles and weapons to the Lyrans would further cut into the extra forces the AFRF could bring to bear quickly once the authorization was given.
"Nathaniel's irresponsibility on the matter has to be addressed sooner or later." Senator Zento said in accented English.  "It might be time to go public with the estimates."
"That would burn some of our sources in the Empire, Senator, and is sloppy besides," Director Rinaldi said, speaking in a similar accent.  "It is attempting to use the information as a club when it might better be employed quietly, as a scalpel."
"I think it's clear nothing can be gained there," Zento groused.  "He cannot be controlled, whatever Prince Peter thinks."
"I believe Director Rinaldi has a point, though."  Montague spoke up again.  "We can't guarantee a leak of the estimates will have the desired effect.  We could be burning our sources just to find it makes the populace more supportive of Nathaniel in the hopes it prevents conflict.  If we release this information quietly, though, and to the right ears, we can sow doubt in the Assembly on his peace initiatives to the Capellans and on this whole 'intervention' idea he has for the Looking Glass.  We win quietly and avoid an open confrontation that can backfire on us."
"There's also the matter of today's Privy Council meeting.  Is it true the King's marital status is to be discussed?"
Grand Admiral Stewart nodded.  "I can confirm that, yes."
"Who would be the bride?"  A horrified look crossed Zento's face.  "It can't be Emperor Robert's daughter Xiaoli?"
That brought a mirthful chuckle from Arnold.  "Honestly I would support that just to see the Dowager's reaction," he said.  "It would probably kill her too, and we'd be done with her vendetta against us."
There were other chuckles at the idea of the Dowager of Oriente having a descendant married to the House she hated the most of them all.  "I am quite confident the candidate will be rather closer to home," Admiral Stewart replied.
"Don't act like it's a complete secret, Malcolm," Pastig said mockingly.  "He means to marry his secretary.  He will wed Sophia Marik."
The Grand Admiral said nothing.  He didn't need to, really. Anyone who approached Nathaniel for a meeting or audience in his office had to go through Sophia, and her protectiveness and hostility towards those who frustrated the King was as well known as her Marik pride.
"The Mariks are finally getting what they want, then," said Juliana Steiner.   "A scion in House Proctor, and a share in the throne."
"Upset that House Steiner's connection to the Proctors will no longer be the only one, Lady Juliana?" Senator Stewart asked, bemusement in his lightly-accented English.
She shot daggers at him, but it was Pastig who said, "For all the rhetoric, the Royal Federation is predominately a Lyran state, Senator, so we have reason to be worried about influences contrary to Lyran interest."
"Ha! You're still bitter that the Proctors didn't become Steiners like the Dinesens," the Senator retorted.  "And let's be honest, not every world once in the Commonwealth still thinks of itself as 'Lyran'."
Juliana's voice rumbled in anger.  "They would, if we were allowed to express that identity with pride, without complaints about 'disrupting the unity of the Federation'!  Yet Kenneth Marik's grand-niece is allowed to prance about in Marik house colors and with a Marik eagle on her breast with not a word said!"
"Enough of this." Zento growled.  "I am not here to listen to Lyrantreu agitation, but to save Skye and the Federation from the Capellan threat."
"I'm in agreement.  In fact," Arnold grinned thinly, "I'm quite happy to have Nathaniel marry Sophia Marik."  At the shocked expressions on a couple of his fellow "Lyrantreu", he added, "Archduke Kenneth is supportive of our proposed measures.  He knows a pre-emptive strike may be the only thing that avoids another bloody invasion of his worlds, and the girl's father is sympathetic as well.  Having their voices gain weight with the King will help us, we may even convince him before our window closes.  Right now that seems our best hope for success."
Lady Juliana looked like she'd been stabbed in the back.  The two Senators, and Director Rinaldi, were obviously satisfied, however.
"Of course, the greater issue is the King's plans for operations through the Glass," Arnold continued.  "As I said, he's already brought up opening up the Strategic Reserves to the Lyrans.  He's also spoken to me and Marshal Townsend about shifting more troops towards the Glass, including a significant employment of the Household Guards."
"He'll pull us into a swamp," Lord Paul grumbled.  "Communications on the other side are reliant on the fax machines and JumpShip couriers, and once we're committed it could be years before we would be done fighting.  Our time tables are too short to allow for it."
Arnold glanced to Grand Admiral Stewart, certain of what the fleet commander was about to bring up.  "It would give us opportunities to give our younger troops a stronger taste of combat.  It would make for an advantage when it comes time to strike the Capellans."
"The matter of the Strategic Reserve also has opportunities," said Baroness Newson, speaking with a faint drawl from her native world of Coriscana.  "We can argue for an increase in armaments orders to replenish them, and allow the Lyrans to place orders as well.  It would stimulate our industries and justify re-opening some of the closed production lines.  That will be of use when the time comes."
Arnold's second spoke with her usual lightly-accented Russian.  "Given the state of their economy with their HPGs out, not to mention the invasion of their worlds, I can't imagine the other Lyrans can afford very much.  And by reports they need trained troops, not just unmanned BattleMechs."
"Perhaps not, Marshal Semyenova, but it would help, and we could always make a generous loan part of alliance terms."
"And what would we get out of this alliance, outside of the losses we'll incur?" demanded Lord Paul.  "I can't imagine the Lyrans will be in shape to return the favor, either by sending us troops or repaying the loans and subsidies we'd be granting them."
"At the very least, they may let us hire their Kell Hounds and other mercenaries for assistance, and provide units to protect some of the border systems to free up troops."  Arnold folded his hands together.  "I'm not convinced Admiral Stewart's proposal is our best option, and however this turns out, I'm not going to let that young fool throw away our best troops for empty promises."
Murmurs of agreement filled the room.  "We will continue to monitor matters in the Empire." Rinaldi said.
"And I will make some vidcalls," added Zento.  "Should we decide we need to push the King into the necessary decisions."
"I believe this meeting has run its course then."  Grand Admiral Stewart rose and made a display of checking his timepiece.  "The Privy Council meets in half an hour and I must attend."
There was a shuffling of chairs as the others rose as well.  Semyenova joined the civilian attendees so that they could be seen out through the private elevator to the car park, to keep their presence quiet and unnoticed.  Only Lord Arnold and Lady Juliana remained.  Juliana leveled a venomous glare at Arnold.  "You, of all people, will support mingling our noble house's bloodline with the damn Mariks?!"
Arnold's eyes locked onto hers.  "The rebirth of the Lyran nation is going to require us to make short-term concessions to political realities.  If we're to pivot our focus to reclaiming the entirety of the Lyran Commonwealth, we need our flank cleared.  That will never happen so long as the Capellans loom large on the border.  In that, the Mariks are our allies, and if it means Marik blood mixes with Steiner, so be it."
She accepted his argument silently.  They rose and left the room in that silence.
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The Privy Council of the Royal Federation was, constitutionally, the driving force for the enacting of the laws passed by the Federation's Parliament and the monarch's will in those matters that the ruler had exclusive control in.  It was part-Cabinet and part-advisory group, under the direction of the Lord of the Privy Council, a noble selected by whomever was monarch due to their political acumen and capability.
For all his life, Peter never imagined he would ever be the Council Lord.  As a young graduate of the Ayrshire Military Sciences Academy he always imagined that if he ever sat on the Council, it would be from reaching the highest pinnacle of the AFRF.  Nor had he expected any kind of political power in his life.  He was the unexpected prince, the baby of the family, born when his parents were well into their forties and not expecting another child.  His elder siblings — all of them much older than he — and any children they had would be between him and the throne.  The AFRF, and being a MechWarrior, would be his life.
Yet things hadn't quite gone according to plan.  After years of fighting in increasingly-dire straits throughout the war, he'd found himself responsible for his nephew James, and with James' death, he swore to be there for James' son.  His AFRF career gave way to working in the family administration, managing the Proctor trust, working with Jacqueline as a special appointment to the Privy Council when the task of government was too great for her broken heart, and anything that ensured he would be there for the grand-nephew whose father died on his watch.  Nathaniel asking him to become Lord of the Privy Council was a request he could have never turned down.
He was nursing a slight headache by the time he adjourned the meeting and saw the others out.  A couple minutes after they were gone, the door opened again.  Nathaniel stepped in.  "Uncle?"
I need an aspirin, Peter thought, massaging his weathered temples with his thumb and fingers after brushing away strands of his gray hair, save the few defiant strands of Proctor brown persisting at the peak of his scalp.  "Nate.  How was the rest of your day?"
"Well enough.  I worked with Lady Jessup to draft the basic points of our response to Trillian Steiner-Davion.  Lady Sophia is helping me with the actual text now."  The young king grinned.  "We also received a diplomatic pouch from Sian.  Emperor Robert agreed to my proposal for a mutual drawdown.  The 2nd Allison Heavy Guards and the 1st & 4th Sian Dragoons are all being pulled from the border of the Principality of Atreus.  We'll be able to re-deploy units to other tasks."
Of course he did, thought Peter.  He knows about the Glass by now, and has to know about our recent troop movements toward it.  He loses nothing by encouraging us to pull troops from our border systems.  Aloud he said, "Well, that's a victory for your idealism and push for peace, Nate.  Congratulations.  Just remember that you can't pull out the Atrean Dragoons for anything, your future grand-uncle-in-law won't stand for it."
The question was undoubtedly on the young man's mind, and Peter's reply was meant to answer it.  "So the answer is yes?"
"A couple of our more devoted Lyrans are still aghast, I think, but Speaker Soto and Senate President Stuart are in favor, as are the key Government Officers.  This would do well in continuing to unify the Federation and ease the concerns of the ex-League worlds.  You've got their support."
Nathaniel grinned widely and nodded, taking a seat in the chair beside Peter.  "Thank you, uncle, I mean it.  Lady Sophia is… she's what I want in a Queen.  Now that you've done this, I'll approach Archduke Kenneth and Lord Paul for the official arrangement.  I'll get that done tonight, first thing after my reply to Lady Trillian's finished."
"I shouldn't have to tell you to be careful there." Peter admonished.  "She's going to want a lot, and you can't give her everything."
"We can send her some of the Strategic Reserve, at least, and make good by increasing orders from the factories."
"That's going to cost billions of pounds, Nathaniel, and the Treasury is not going to be happy given they've already got to fund the naval expansion."  Peter glanced toward him.  "And since I know you're thinking about it, the Exchequer can't make up the shortfall, it doesn't have the funds.  And your family would riot over using it."
"I'm aware of that, even if I think the family trust is too big as it is.  It's financial wealth that would do our nation better supplementing our budget."
"It's also wealth that took two centuries to accumulate, and would be spent up in a year of government funding," Peter pointed out.  "Hire the Lyrans a merc unit if you'd like, but no more."
"Good advice, Uncle."
Peter sighed.  Nathaniel would probably overspend anyway.  I will have to make sure the Exchequer watches his withdrawals carefully.  "Going by the reports we have so far, they'll need more than our reserves anyway.  They need troops.  Maybe more than we can hope to send, Nate.  As much as you may want to actually drive these Clans off, that could be beyond our means.  The Combine grows stronger by the year and the Capellans' new fleet construction guarantees we can't afford to risk our fleet assets."
"There are ways to raise more troops.  Whatever the Lyrans can't use, we can."
"As in raise new regiments to fight?"
"We can bring back some of the units that were folded after the Peace of Dieron.  And expand our orders, we've got the spare capacity."
"If Parliament doesn't fund it, you'll put us in a bind."
"All I need to do is convince the Assembly that the need is there, and I think I can.  What the Clans did on Timkovichi will persuade a lot of people we need to stop them."
And the costs to the government funds will make them think otherwise.  After letting that thought stir in his head for a bit, he sat up in his chair before standing fully.  "We'll discuss this another time.  I've had a long day, so I'm going to head to my rooms for dinner and rest."
"Of course," Nathaniel said, nodding.  "My best to Lord Kevin, I hope he's doing better."
"Thank you, I'll let him know."  Peter went for the door.  The sooner he and Kevin had a quiet dinner and a chance to wind down, the easier his head would feel.
And then more to do tomorrow.  The business of government goes on, as does my delicate balancing act.  He sighed.  One day I fear I'm going to have to get firm and either make Arnold break up his clique, or make Nathaniel see reality as it is, not what he wants it to be.  And God help us all when that day comes.
May He help me most of all...
----
Nathaniel returned to his office.  Sophia was inside the inner office, at her desk there going over proofs.  "I think I have a better way of wording this part," she said, holding up the paper with his formal response to Trillian's introduction.  "Qualify your encouragement a little more carefully, so it doesn't seem like you're already promising her terms you didn't intend to."v
"A splendid idea," he said, grinning at her.
"So."  She answered the grin with one of her own.  "You're happy.  They said yes?"
"They did.  Do you?"
The grin didn't waver.  "I admit I've been thinking a lot about it these past several weeks, ever since you proposed the idea.  When I accepted your offer to become the Royal Secretary, it isn't what I planned."
"Nor I.  But Grandmother Jackie and Lady Mayfield both respected you, and Grandmother Amita liked you too."  He took a seat in the nearest office couch to be closer to her than his main desk.  She moved over to the opposite couch, eyes still on him.  "So I asked you to take over for Lady Mayfield, and having gotten to know you…"  Nathaniel shrugged.  "You're smart and you're quick, and I like you."
"But you don't love me?"
"I… think I will, in time..." he answered.  "We're nobles, after all.  Love's not usually involved in these things.  You have to get lucky, like my parents."
Sophia nodded in agreement, and her eyes never left the contact with his.  "Well, I admit, I don't love you either. At this point, but I do like you.  Admire you.  You've got dreams for this Federation, and the entire Inner Sphere, and I want to support them.  I was going to do it as your Royal Secretary, but… how can I refuse to do it as your Queen?"
There was a little, fluttering feeling in Nathaniel's stomach.  His voice almost shook with anticipation.  "So the answer is yes?"
"It is.  I accept your proposal, Your Majesty, and I'll say so to my father and grand-uncle."  She reached forward and offered her hand, which he took.  "And if it comes to it, I'll keep your dream going while you're off fighting these Clans."
He didn't release her hand, but he couldn't keep the surprise off his face.  "What?"
"You are a true Proctor, Nathaniel.  You've got that sense of moral purpose and seeing it through that your family's had for two centuries.  I'm sure it'll be infuriating to me as your wife to have you off campaigning through the Glass, but I know you enough to know you're not going to send men and women into a fight without standing with them."  Now her smile turned mischievous.  "Besides, it's hard to hide it when you're booking 'Mech training in every spare space I can find in your schedule.  Make ninety-eighth percentile yet?"
"Ninety-seventh," he admitted.  "And it's not set in stone.  I have no idea what Lady Trillian will ask for, even if I imagine she'll want troops."
"I'm sure she will, and things sound bad enough there that they'll need enough.  More than enough to justify you going into the field."  She placed her other hand on his now.  "Just don't make me a widow."
"You could try to talk me out of it.  Grandfather James always talked Grandmother out of going back into the field after Vega."
"Oh, I want to," she admitted.  "And if you decide to stay, and I hope you will, it'll make me very happy.  And it'll be easier to get the realm a new heir, I'll add.  But given the fits you give your Privy Council and Command Staff whenever they try to talk you into things you don't want to do, I'm not counting on that hope coming true.  Hopes have to be realistic to be counted on.  And you are far too stubborn for me to hope you'll change your mind on something you're clearly set on."
"I can be very determined," he admitted.  "I also sometimes think too much on problems and solutions, not on how others feel."
"Well, no one, not even the highest ruler, is perfect.  Except Uncle Kenneth, of course.  He's not allowed to be flawed, or so Father often groused."
Nathaniel laughed at that.  "So I've heard."
"Yes. Well, now that we've spoken on this, I believe we have that reply to Lady Trillian to finish?"  Sophia indicated their desks.  "She's still weeks away, but no point keeping the poor woman in suspense on how we're going to react to her arrival.  She's already having a devil of a time handling being in a different universe, I think."
"Perhaps I'll have to ask her about that, for my own sake." Nathaniel mused aloud before standing.  Their hands separated and they made their way to their desks, promptly getting back to work.
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EMCOTS 15