Soft lands breed soft men

[Tavastia]

THE WAR HERO

In his mind, a piano was playing. It was an ageless tune, not really anything special, just something he could play himself. Keeping his eyes closed, he focused on the melody and imagined his fingers dancing across the keyboard. He sat cross-legged, naked to the waist, simple overalls of a prisoner covering his lower body. He radiated heat even though the stone-walled cell around him was cold, dank and dark. The melody continued smoothly to the beat of his heart, which was slowing. Slowing. His concentration was firm and he closed out the coldness that was numbing him. In his mind, he closed out his shame, anger, hatred, and disappointment, and rose above them.

He was getting good in meditating. It was all he could do, in addition to sleeping, keeping his body in shape, and reading the August Path. For the past year, he had been locked into his cell deep in the bowels of Fortress Kallio, massive and awe-inspiring rock of the Exalted military caste of Tavastia called home. For a year he had been waiting to hear of his fate, but his superiors had cast him out of sight and kept him there, being unable to make the final decision between his life and death. Already burdened by his shame for letting his men and brothers down, but also by the bitterness towards his previous superior, he could not fathom the delay. The wait was becoming unbearable, clawing at his sanity like a starved wolf. That is why he had taken to mediation. It was helping.

Inhale.

The melody washed over the unworthy feelings like surf over sand. He was beyond these immature thoughts. He was Exalted, a Lord-Colonel, commander of the bravest soldiers in Tavastia, and entire Europe. He was an artist of war, a honed weapon with reason for existence unclouded by doubt.

Exhale.

Yet there had been doubt, and there still was. His eyes flashed open. His muscles tensed and again he felt the cold of his cell on his skin. The setting sun weakly shone through a small window behind him, casting a shadow across the floor, but offering no warmth. His concentration gone, the music ended, but was replaced by footsteps echoing beyond the cell door. He lifted his gaze just as the metal door creaked open. Another Exalted, a young lieutenant, one he hadn't seen before, stepped in and saluted, crossing his right arm across his chest, fist to the heart, and bowed slightly. The Lord-Colonel, still out-ranking him - prisoner or not - remained motionless and firmly stared at his visitor. The young man took a long breath, considering his words carefully. The Lord-Colonel frowned slightly.

"Brother", the lieutenant began, not using the Lord-Colonel's title but still respectfully addressing him as Exalted, "the tribunal has made its decision. It is time."

For the first time in a year, the Lord-Colonel smiled.

 

[Tavastia]

THE BULL

This is beyond me, he thought to himself as the fireworks filled the night sky above him and his mansion and its estate. Hundreds of nobles, gentlemen in black and white tuxedos and women in flashy evening dresses, cheered and rose their drinks in salute to the sky, admiring the complex, rhythmic harmony of colours, loud bangs and pops. Jazz music still blared in the background, the orchestra creating a lively ambiance for the highlight of the evening.

This is beyond me. He ground his teeth and sipped ludicrously expensive Franconian sparkling wine, his gaze hovering above the mass of people. But it was necessary to entertain the fools, the upstarts, old friends, enemies - all of them - the power and prestige of House Tanner had to be restored. And to do that, he had to organize excessive parties and balls, flaunt his riches and flex his social muscles. Parties were one way of trying to regain the old prestige, the same prestige his uncle had slowly let slip from his puny grasp for forty years. Business negotiations, extortion and bribery were others, as was killing. Killing - yes, that was much more simpler and more efficient, he considered and took another sip of his wine.

He would continue to organize these parties for weeks to come, each topping the earlier in extravagance and vulgar overspending of money. He had to spend money to prove his House still had it.. and to attract other money.

He had to admit that there was slow progress. Tonight's party had successfully attracted more important guests than the earlier. His eyes spotted many who he wouldn't had believed to have come. House Tanner is still a Council House, he reminded himself, one of the three ruling houses in Tavastia. His rise to power as the new head of House Tanner and consequent actions would attract interest among competing Houses - and fear, he hoped. It was time his House seized the initiative in the game for Tavastia.

A servant cleared his throat behind him: "Lord Superior, excuse me." He turned around to face the orderly. "Would you please rejoin the party, we are about to serve the cheese. Also I believe young Lord Paasikivi is about to leave."

Lord Superior Tanner frowned and nodded. To hell with the dessert cheeses. He would need to speak with Paasikivi before he would have the chance to leave - House Paasikivi was one of Houses with controlling stakes in many key heavy-industry corporations. Tanner would need Paasikivi's support and their companies hardware if he wanted his dreams for House Tanner and the Tavastian Federation to come true. Taking cue from his master's nod, the servant bowed and turned to leave.

So much work ahead, he muttered, emptied the wine glass and followed the servant back down a floor to the festivities.