With the light glinting off the sweat on his bald head, Tiepolo had begun to warm to his subject. "That rivalries and open hostilities exist among and between the various people gathered here is no secret. That many people fear what this union of man and woman will mean to the Successor States is not in doubt. Some see their share of power withering and would wish to reverse this loss. Others see energy draining away from their enemies and would seek to hasten the loss. Like selfish children," the Primus chided, "some gather to them the means of exploiting the less fortunate. This is pitiable.
"It is pitiable because this marriage does not involve loss." Tiepolo graced the Archon-Designate with a respectful nod. "This woman will gain a husband, and this man will gain a wife. It is the normal enactment of a cycle that has, for eons beyond counting, brought life into an entropic universe. The cycle of life is all that keeps man above savagery, because as man and woman struggle to create a better future for their children, they aspire to greatness. Facilitating and nurturing this growth of the Human spirit and invention is the cornerstone of Blake's Wisdom."
Tiepolo smiled as though he alone understood the true significance of his words. "This gathering, and the ceremony that will cap it, is a celebration of life, of unity, and of growth. We all gain through the wedding of Melissa Steiner to Hanse Davion. It is our wish that you will dwell with us here in this spirit of hope and affinity."
Tiepolo bowed, then drew to the side as Precentor Tharkad again moved forward to speak. The tall double doors on either side of the platform opened into the room beyond, from which Dan could hear the strains of a sonata for flute and clavichord.
Ulthar Everston listened to the music for half a second, then he spoke over it, but with reluctance "We ask you to join us in an evening of music, dance, and food." He waved a hand toward the doors on his right. "All waits for you within ..."
His words trailed off as though someone had dialed down the volume on his voice. Staring over the heads of the crowd, the Precentor's mouth opened as though to speak, then he licked his lips and simply remained silent as he watched the man who was coming now through the entrance.
Though physically small, the gray-haired, lantern-jawed Mech Warrior standing in the doorway commanded the attention of everyone in the room. He wore a cropped black jacket that was belted at the waist, and well-creased black pants with a red stripe down the side of each leg. Over his right shoulder hung a cape that was cinched across his chest with a silver chain. This left free the left shoulder of his jacket, which was intricately embroidered with a gray wolf's head and pelt, with eyes of ruby-red. Everyone immediately recognized the man as a member of the feared mercenary unit known as Wolf's Dragoons. Light caught at the wolf's head insignia on either side of his collar, but the only other indication of the man's rank or identity were three silver stars that glittered on the lower part of each jacket sleeve. The newcomer was none other than Colonel Jaime Wolf.
The Mech Warrior's gray eyes smoldered as he surveyed the crowd. Spotting his quarry, he tightened his grip on the long black cloth bag in his right hand. Light rippled along the bag's silver brocade as he brandished the satchel.
He had barely taken a step forward before Tiepolo's voice rang out over the assembly. "You are most welcome here, Colonel Wolf."
Wolf's head turned almost mechanically to slash Tiepolo with a harsh stare. Dan was startled, almost frightened by what he saw, Wolf looks at the Primus with such contempt!
Wolf gazed from Tiepolo to the people crowded between them. As though moved by force of the mercenary's will, people slowly began to drift through the doors and into the room beyond. Dan, too, turned to leave, but Morgan's strong grip on his elbow broke Wolf's spell. "Wait, Dan."
As the crowd thinned out, Jaime Wolf descended the stairs. He backed two Acolytes away with one of his molten stares, then crossed to where Takashi Kurita stood amid a circle of retainers. One by one, the MechWarriors surrounding the Coordinator withdrew until only Yorinaga Kurita stood between the mercenary and his master.
Wolf appraised Yorinaga with a frank stare, then nodded almost imperceptibly. Yorinaga bowed his head to the mercenary Colonel, but did not give way until Takashi laid a hand on Yorinaga's shoulder and guided him aside.
Wolf slipped the corded knot at the head of the bag. Sliding the black fabric down, he revealed the hilts of a katanaand wakazashi.With contempt in his eyes, the mercenary cast the two swords down at the Coordinator's feet. Then Wolf lashed out at the Coordinator in a voice that had the fury of some nightmare storm. Though Wolf's flawless Japanese was too rapid for Dan to follow completely, there was no mistaking his intent.
The Coordinator listened for as long as his honor would tolerate. Though he had looked uneasy at first, he soon had complete control of his expression, which was a truer sign of his own anger building. When Takashi opened his mouth to speak, Wolf cut him off with more angry words and gestures. Like a ship in some storm, the Coordinator had no choice but to weather it.
Words spent, but fury unabated, Wolf finally turned from Kurita. The few people still standing about quickly removed themselves from his line of march, fearful that he might direct his fury on one of them. The only exception was Morgan Kell, who moved toward Wolf, clearly intending to intercept him. As though in a dream, Dan could not keep himself from following.
By the time the two men came face to face, Wolf had dominated his emotions, for not a trace showed in his expression. His eyes narrowed as he studied Morgan's uniform and the decorations it displayed. "Morgan Kell," he said, as recognition sank in. "After all these years, Morgan Kell."
Dan was now totally confused. He says Morgan's name with... respect?
Morgan nodded and extended his hand. "I have long admired and respected your abilities, Colonel Wolf. Indeed, I have always held the Kell Hounds to the same high standards you set for your Dragoons."
Wolf shook KelPs hand heartily, though his expression remained impenetrable, "I'd used to hope," he said, "that our regiments might have a chance one day to test their mettle against one another in the field." Wolf shrugged as though to say, that hope had not disappeared forever. "Unfortunately, your Kell Hounds were reduced to battalion size after Mallory's World. Not much of a challenge for one of my regiments and without you"—Wolf looked directly into Morgan's eyes—"no challenge at all, for me."
Morgan nodded slowly. "There was a time, Colonel, when I would have offered a meet to answer the question of which unit, which warrior, is superior." Weariness tinged Morgan's voice. "It seems that I've learned not to enjoy such games."
Pain washed over Wolf's face. "Many people have died ... sometimes I think it is toomany."
"I was sorry to hear of your brother's death in the Marik civil war. You have my deepest sympathy."
Wolf again accepted Morgan's hand. "And I regret your brother's death on Styx. Though it does nothing to ease the pain or loss, you must realize he died happy, knowing he had saved his command."
Morgan barely whispered his reply. "I trust it was so."
Releasing Morgan's hand, Wolf turned and looked Dan over. He closed his eyes for a half-second, then nodded. "You are Captain Daniel Allard, New Avalon Military Academy, Class of' 15."