“It begins with a dance,” Laguna said quietly. He leaned forward, with crossed arms, against the arm railing on the second floor of the great ballroom. Below him, the distinguished guests mingling with one another on the immense ballroom floor began to form a large, dense ring, leaving ample empty space in the middle. All of the guests were dressed in beautiful gowns and suits, surely purchased from the finest tailors and suitsmiths Trypto had to offer. Among them, Laguna could easily spot the traditionalists - those who still proudly wore masks, as they did in generations past, when times were, as Laguna was led to know through his private education, simpler. Slowly, like a gushing faucet transforming into a somber trickle, the casual conversation on the luminous black ballroom floor died down and, as if on perfect cue, an older man and his wife made their way through the crowd of guests and toward the middle of the empty circle.
“Yes, as it always does, brother,” said Tren, “and as it always will so long as you and I hold our history to heart.” Tren was standing next to Laguna, with a smile on his face. The dark red streaks on his blue cape signified his place in the royal succession and, more simply, that he was older than Laguna.
“Hold our history to heart,” replied Laguna, not moving his eyes from the congregation below, “careful now, you’re starting to sound like father.”
Laguna looked over at Tren and they shared a laugh. It was no secret that Laguna took greatly after his father and, had his father not cut his hair short some five years ago, they would look eerily like twins separated by a few decades. Tren knew this and, even now, on the darkened second floor, where only shades mingled with shadows, he saw it on his younger brother’s face. Laguna turned to speak again, but quieter now, so as to complement the hushed silence below them.
“And besides, we both know father will live and rule for another thirty years, and then you will live and rule for some fifty or sixty years,” he smiled, as if this was not the first time these words had slipped his tongue, “and then, when you finally decide to grace us with your passing, your future son will sit the throne and continue our historic dance, year after year.”
Tren smiled as he placed his hand on Laguna’s shoulder, “Yes, and when you are old and grey and decide to trade in your dark locks for a more appropriate head of short hair, my grandchildren will all point up to the rafters and swap tales of the royal prince who hated parties.”
They both laughed and Laguna scrunched his caped shoulders until Tren removed his hand. Tren straightened himself and fixed his cape then began walking down the empty hallway to the nearest stairwell, all while Laguna maintained his hunched position.
“I know you are not a fan of these get togethers, but it would be nice for you to at least show your face this year,” Tren said, “so as to honor our history, yes?”
Tren’s quiet laughter echoed down the hall and Laguna even managed a genuine smile, but he didn’t remove himself from the second floor arm railing. He knew he would eventually make his way to the first floor and greet the distinguished ladies and their dates below, but he wanted to make his appearance as short as acceptably possible. And he also knew that because Tren came to speak with him, his absence had been noted. But still, in the calm of their family’s annual dance, before his father would address the room of artists and politicians, of musicians and entrepreneurs, of engineers and doctors, he wanted to appreciate the silence the vacant second floor offered him and, for once in a long time, enjoy the feeling of being alone and not bothered by anyone or anything.
The royal ballroom was gigantic and only used on special occasions, usually a few times a year. It was built into the heart of the Kintell family palace many generations ago. Most historians agree that the palace was actually built around this ballroom, like lesser organs complementing a beating heart. All hallways and stairwells fanned out symmetrically from the giant, dark ballroom, like ventricles and fleeting veins, from the lowest levels to the highest floors. The ballroom itself was unique because it was completely empty, save the luminescent black floor which mirrored the far reaches of space and the cosmos. Tonight, the ballroom appeared smaller than usual because of the sheer amount of people squeezed in, but still, its beauty and enormity could not be questioned. And, at the center of it all, Laguna and Tren’s father and mother stood firmly and proudly, arm in arm, eyes locking individually with their respected guests.
“Dear poets, dear engineers, dear politicians, dear artisans of all variety,” Klaen Kintell said, with a booming, yet calm voice, “on behalf of the Kintell family of today and years passed, I welcome you to our Night’s Dance.”
The applause from the guests in attendance reverberated off the high vaulted walls, outwards and upwards. Above their heads, on the ceiling, they could see the ever twinkling star clusters, should they seek them.
“As always, as ever, we are pleased to see so many bright minds before, and among, us,” Klaen said, “Because it is important to note how equal we truly are.”
Laguna watched his father fold his fingers together, emphasizing equality. He had seen his father make this gesture before, far too many times to count. Laguna did not scoff at this, instead, he admired it. He knew that his father was sincere with his words, and that he honestly believed in the equality among all distinguished members of their society - be they in the capital or elsewhere in Trypto, or even on the various planets and systems the Kintellian rule reached. What Laguna wished, especially whenever his father interlaced his slender fingers, was that he would extend his views of societal equality to all members, not just the creators and the thinkers, the governors and the soldiers, but to even the less fortunate, the people who never see the light quite like the men and women in the great ballroom. But these thoughts, Laguna always convinced himself, were embodiments of an ideal that would be difficult even for his father’s liberal rule to accommodate. And so, he designed to listen.
“The reason we are able to partake in the luxuries of freedom and expression is entirely intertwined with the equality we bestow upon our neighbors,” Klaen gestured to members in the ring, “and the equality the return to us, in the sparkling of an eye, in the honesty of a deserved compliment, and in the thoughtfulness of required criticism.”
A few members of the circle smiled and some even laughed. Most of the people in attendance, in fact, did not like each other, for this is the nature of politics, but they were more than capable of biting their tongues and tolerating one another. And, for a moment, they let loose their teeth and allowed a rare smile to pass.
“But tonight is not a political summit. And tonight is not a symposium for the arts or a grand fair for the innovations. Tonight is simply about us; as a people, as a kingdom.”
Klaen extended his hand towards the ring of guests and Laguna noticed how they all began to shuffle left or right, making room for Tren to pass through. As Tren brushed past the dignitaries and artists, they all smiled and bowed their heads as far as the space would allow. He tried his best to return all salutations, but knew this was no time for small talk, as the climax to his father’s speech depended on his son’s shouldered presence. When he made his way through the quiet crowd of admiring guests, he nonchalantly fixed his royal Kintell cape and made sure his jacket was straight, even though he knew it always was. Klaen placed his hand firmly on the back of his son’s neck and, when they stood next to each other, Laguna could not help but feel a sense of pride - pride for his family, pride for his upbringing, and pride for his history. Their capes dangled gracefully from one shoulder all the way to the ground, always in motion, no matter how slight. Klaen’s white cape contrasted with Tren’s dark blue one and, if Laguna was there as well, his onyx cape would complete the royal spectrum. But Laguna much preferred to admire his family from the shadows, and was happy to hear the end of his father’s speech unaccompanied by royal ceremony.
“For generations the Kintell family has striven for an expansion of rule,” Klaen said, happily grasping his eldest son, “and we have been lucky to witness our light touching even the farthest galaxies. Every year we come together and dance to our successes in spreading freedom and equality, and every year we smile at the challenges still before us.”
Tren looked proudly at his father as he spoke. He held his father in high regard and wanted nothing more than to live up to his famed legacy one day. He was the same height as Klaen, and although they looked at eachother eye to eye, Tren eternally felt shorter. Tren felt that he was always looking up to his father, as he and Laguna once did when they were children.
“One day,” Klaen added, now grinning at his son’s clear admiration, “my boy Tren will continue the historic traditions of the Kintell family, and maybe even create a few new ones as well.”
Tren laughed at this, as did a few guests in the ring surrounding them.
“But I am sure,” Klaen now turned to look at his wife, Vienne, who shared his happiness, “we are sure, that he will always honor our desire to spread our light and our mission.”
There was a moment of pure silence. It may have only lasted a few seconds, but to everyone in the crowded ring, and to Laguna above them all, it felt as if time crept to a beating halt. Klaen, Vienne and Tren embraced each other through their interlocking grey eyes. In that moment, they proved that their familial bond extended beyond the blood that flowed through their veins and the ancient circuitry beneath their palace’s floors and walls - their bond extended farther than the invisible boundaries of their cosmic kingdom. Their bond was true and their power came from that bond. Laguna smiled and, before the silence ended, he rose from the arm railing and adjusted his cape and walked casually down the hall just as his brother did before him.
“Now, despite my husband’s grandiose speech on legacy and ideals, no matter how lovely it was,” Vienne smiled at Klaen, then straightened herself, “We do have some successes from this past year to celebrate.”
Klaen leaned forward, “Well of course we do, but I am sure all of you who are familiar with our recent successes know that Vienne is the one who does the majority of the ruling.”
The audience, Vienne and Tren included, erupted into hearty laughter because they all knew Klaen was right. Vienne was evermore a greater diplomat and leader than Klaen, and Klaen had known that the best. Their most recent planetary acquisitions were due almost solely to her keen intellect and stern political maneuvers. Her ageless charm aside, she was a great asset to the Tryptoan kingdom.
As Vienne began to list the past year’s planetary acquisitions and galactic expansions, Laguna descended the nearest stairwell. He was of slender figure, much like his father, and glided down the stairwell with relative ease. His dark hair parted perfectly down the middle of his skull and draped neatly by his shoulders, and with each step he took down the stairs it flowed back and forth, almost in perfect sync with his royal cape. Vienne’s voice became louder as he neared the ballroom floor.
There was not simply one entrance to the ballroom floor, but instead, many. The entire circumference of the gigantic floor was defined by a continuum of ornate arches. Each archway was an opening of about ten feet and each one was decorated fully with reliefs depicting legendary moments of Kintell family history. When they were boys, Laguna and Tren would quiz each other on the finer details of these hand carved reliefs and, most of the time, they were hard pressed to find a person or a scene that the other did not know or had forgotten. As the brothers grew older, however, they lost the passion to pour over the lives and fables of long dead ancestors and soon treated the etchings for what they plainly were. Even now, as Laguna walked the perimeter of the archways, he paid little attention to the laborious work of the famed royal sculptors.
At each archway stood a member of the Kintell family’s personal guard. These were highly adept soldiers trained in various forms of combat and weaponry. In the past decade alone, their skills increased tremendously as a result of cultural diffusion from new planets brought into the Tryptoan fold. Due to the constant expansion of the interplanetary kingdom, these soldiers were also students. However, instead of studying the popular sciences and philosophies of the day, they learned cutting edge fighting styles and how to master weapons from the most distant of planets. Their devotion to the crown ensured the safety of all members of the Tryptoan Palace and, for that, the Kintell family was grateful. Because of this, Laguna had a habit of always acknowledging the guards as he passed them by, and tonight, as he traversed the ballroom floor, he managed to nod to quite a few. One guard in particular caught his eye.
“What are the chances I can sneak in unnoticed,” Laguna said with a wry smile as he slowed his stroll. He stood shoulder to shoulder with the guard, he facing towards the ballroom, she the opposite.
“They say you’ve got a cunning mind under that beautiful skull,” she whispered, “but I know the truth.” She turned her head slightly but kept her eyes on the opaque black wall at the opposite end of the hallway. Laguna could instantly feel her sardonic tone and grinned.
“Yes,” he replied, “and tell me, what is that truth?”
“That you’re as dull as those rats you visit in the under city.” She said this with a playful sharpness that she knew would rustle the Tryptoan heir. And because she convinced herself that she could feel Laguna’s goosebumps under his silq attire, she turned her head fully and let loose her infectious, full-lipped smile.
Laguna refused to turn his head in return, at least for a moment. His smile didn’t fade away, in fact, it gradually grew wider, but he knew his immediate inattention would bother Olivia. And it did, slightly; so he continued to pay her no charm nor sentiment. But even a twenty year old royal prince with the highest intellect and willpower couldn’t resist the taunting smile of a young woman like Olivia for long. Laguna turned, so quick it may have even startled her for a fraction of a second, and cupped her face gently in his left hand then kissed her. And had they not started laughing halfway through, when Olivia’s helmet slowly slid down her forehead, and a tuft of brown hair fell to cover her eye, their kiss would have probably become much more passionate, and would have probably lasted for a much longer time.
Laguna carefully fixed her helmet as she looked into his eyes, trying to find the lingering grey behind his widened pupils. He noticed this, as he had noticed it countless times before; when they were sparring partners, when he snuck his dinner to her during her punishment fasts, and when they first ventured to the quiet left wing of the palace, and climbed its outer ledges to a lonely flat panel, and lay under the stars, and warm the cool bricks beneath them. And Laguna smiled.
Olivia brushed her shoulders habitually and adjusted her jacket after he finished adjusting her helmet. He, too, made sure his cape and hair were in order. Behind them, at the next archway, one of the guards made a sound quiet enough for the guests in the ballroom not to notice, but loud enough to catch Laguna and Olivia’s attention.
“Oh, get on with it,” he said, seemingly annoyed to view their full exchange through his peripheral vision.
“Alan, mind your arch,” Laguna said without turning his head. He watched Olivia chuckle then hold her hand up to her mouth so as not to let out a snort of laughter.
“You insolent bugger, I swear,” Alan began to mutter derogatory insults under his breath. Laguna and Olivia couldn’t make out what he said, but they could easily guess at his intentions. Alan was a perennial dark cloud, but was also a reliable gunman, and swordsman when needed, and because of this Laguna put up with his dismal attitude.
“You better get going,” Olivia said, moving her eyes from Alan to Laguna, “your mother is nearly finished.”
She was right, Vienne had nearly completed her summation of the past year’s successes for the kingdom, and a loud burst of applause was imminent. Laguna nodded then eyed the dense crowd for an opening.
“And to answer your question,” Olivia added, as she rotated Laguna’s head towards her, “No. There is no way you can sneak in unnoticed.”
Laguna grinned, “I’ll prove you wrong one day.” He grasped her hand and kissed it gently, then released it, turned, and stepped onto the ballroom floor.
With each step Laguna took, small vibrations and rearrangements of particles deep in the granules of the ballroom floor created a slight, but stunning, visual bloom of color variation. These plumes of color were made to match the ionized gas clouds found throughout the distant expanse of space. Despite the fact that the floor granules did well to pay homage to the vast, vibrant nebulas, Laguna paid little attention to these effects as he tried to find the best way to enter the crowded ring of guests. All the while, he could feel his mother nearing the end of her speech.
“The Vos Indwin extraction method has proven itself invaluable to the expansion and maintenance of our Kintellian Kingdom. Already, four planetary systems are under our control and we are, as we speak, in communication with a scouting party venturing deep into a fifth,” Vienne spoke with impeccable articulation and composure. Behind each word was a sense of optimism and control, and the entire audience could feel it. They marveled at her presentation of facts that were already, more or less, common knowledge, and allowed themselves to be lifted by her words. They couldn’t be more proud to be distinguished subjects of Tryptoan society.
“Already, our gross planetary surveys have indicated dense accumulations of blue irregulum on this fifth planet,” Vienne said with a grin, knowing that this would please many of the scientists and entrepreneurs in attendance, “which, if our calculations prove true, will surely multiply our current yearly working supply tenfold.” At this, the guests gasped and applauded, smiled and congratulated one another.
The mysteries of blue irregulum, a relatively rare compound and self-regenerative fuel source, had been solved by a handful of Kintellian researchers some two decades ago. Upon the realization of its inherent usefulness in powering starships and exponentially decreasing space travel time - from years to mere days - the Kintell family proudly toted it as a cosmic affirmant of their rule and utilized it to quickly expand their kingdom at a record pace. Populated planets, which once took years to reach, could be visited in a few Tryptoan nights, and the leadership of those planets quickly took note of this fact. To adopt this seemingly magical mode of space travel meant to pledge loyalty to Kintellian rule, and so they did - rapidly. In the span of twenty years, the boundaries of the Kintellian Kingdom expanded from the only habitable quadrant of Trypto to an important string of neighboring, albeit distant, planets. And prospects were fair. Blue irregulum could only be found on certain planets and, even then, it was limited to small, disconnected pockets of accumulation. Kintellian outposts ensured these deposits of blue irregulum were well guarded and, for the most part, they were found on unpopulated planets, so the likelihood of robbery or contestment of resources was very low. However, the problem did not lie in how to control blue irregulum deposits, but rather, how to find more. The royal family’s prospects for the future and expansion of their kingdom were almost completely reliant on a steady supply of blue irregulum, and the announcement of newly discovered seas of the compound on a nearby planet was well met and happily accepted.
“And I am also pleased to announce that this wonder planet, previously designated OR-2, now being colloquially referred to as ‘Irregulos’, has, as scientists have previously observed, no clear signs of civilized society,” Vienne bowed her head slightly as she made this final note with absolute mirth. The crowd cheered and clapped. It was obvious that they did not wish to embark on political or militaristic missions to secure the newfound blue irregulum. But, at the same time, they were happy to not have to displace any distant peoples or cultures for the wealth of a valuable compound.
As the audience continued their applause, Laguna managed to sidle his way through the dense crowd from a point he deemed the best entrance. He brushed against and carefully nudged aside the older men and women, all while they exchanged witty comments and laughter about Vienne’s final statement. Some had the decency to help Laguna make his way through by pushing aside inattentive people in front of them. Laguna quietly thanked each of them with a wide smile and eventually made his way to the edge of the inner ring.
Tren saw his younger brother and walked to him, laughing under his breath. When he reached Laguna, he slung his arm around his shoulders and they started to walk towards their parents.
“Perfect timing,” Tren grinned, “as usual, as always.”
“I don’t take pride in my effortless punctuality,” Laguna replied as he too wrapped his arm around his brother, “I take pride in my ability to make a crowd go completely wild.”
Tren chuckled then tightened his grip on Laguna. Even though the majority of applause and chatter had been a result of the blue irregulum announcement, he could hardly brush off the second wave of applause and quips that began upon the entrance of his younger brother. Laguna was popular with almost everyone and was seasoned with a near universal appeal. To most of the guests on the ballroom floor, seeing Laguna arm and arm with his older brother, now only a few feet from their well-respected parents, completed their ideal painting of the legendary family, constructed with their mind’s eye on a canvas of loyalty and livelihood.
“Ah, I see the family is complete,” Klaen said after happily patting Laguna on the crest of his head, the same way he did for all of his son’s life, “and I can only assume that our guests are restless!” At this, he glanced at his wife and she acknowledged his motion towards the ending of their address.
“Yes, of course,” Vienne answered, “again, we thank you all for honoring the Kintell family with your allegiance and patronage. Our future is as bright as the northest star, our legacy as deep as darkest space. Come now, let us dance.”
And with that, on flawless cue, the silky consonance of a hundred stringed instruments filled the circular ballroom floor and the guests cheerfully found their partners and began their long-awaited dance. The musicians were positioned on the third floor and their tunes traveled majestically downwards, bouncing off of every moving body. The music was Kintellian in every fashion; elegant, concordant and topped with beating life, and every pair danced perfectly to its rhythm. In contrast to the outer perimeter of the great ballroom, the floor itself was illuminated by a series of bright lamps that lined the outer circumference of the dance floor, some thirty feet above the guests’ heads. This brilliant light presented all of the dancers as they truly were and left no wrinkle or beauty spot to the imagination. Klaen and Vienne spun their royal dance at the center of all the guests. Tren had already declined a few invitations from confident young girls to speak briefly with Laguna.
“I want to talk to you later tonight, when all of this is said and done,” Tren said, eyeing a svelte woman on the other end of the floor while simultaneously returning the smiles of dancers who passed by.
“I’m not sure how much talking you plan to have time for tonight,” Laguna replied wryly, noting how his brother’s eyes were stuck on the girl across the room. He elbowed his brother, who was caught off guard and stumbled forward slightly. Tren shot straight up and calmly fixed his attire.
“Well, quite a lot if you continue that,” he said, adjusting his cape.
“Oh come on, brother, look at her,” Laguna wrapped his arm around his brother’s shoulder and gestured toward the lady, “she’s laughing now! She can see past that steel shell of yours and straight into your soft, warm, clumsy self. You’re not perfect and she knows that now. If nothing else, it’ll definitely lower a few of her expectations.”
Laguna trailed off at the end and Tren shoved his brother off of him. The woman walked out of sight and Tren held his brow and sighed, but managed a slight smile.
“I’ll reserve some of my harsher retorts for a time when we are not adorned with the brightest damned light in the galaxy,” he said, then cleared his throat and turned to Laguna, “but in all seriousness, we need to speak later.”
Laguna knew when his brother was serious and when he was playful, and that right at this moment he was more of the former than the latter. He nodded and tried to think of all the potential topics of this upcoming dialogue. The truth was that there were a number of things Tren may have wanted to seriously discuss with Laguna, from his upcoming future to his general apathy towards royal duties, to his relationship with Olivia and even to his nightly disappearances to the under city. But, ultimately, Laguna decided to pay it little attention and worry about it when the proper time came to pass. He straightened himself and clapped his hand on Tren’s caped shoulder.
“Alright, Tren, we can speak later tonight. Now go hunt down that vixen and charm her with your anecdotes about interplanetary diplomacy.”
Tren smiled, “And you should do the same. This night only comes around once a year, after all.”
“I’ll find my way,” Laguna replied, then removed his hand from his brother’s shoulder and began walking away. He slid his hands into his pockets and stretched his fingers around their cool silq lining. His smile soon faded and he maneuvered around a few pairs of twirling dancers until he reached the edge of the dance floor. He watched the shoes and boots tap against the deep black floor, and saw bursts of nebulaic color complement their impressionable movements. In a room full of more than a hundred individuals vying for their partners’ complete attention, he may have been the only person with his head tilted downwards. Underneath it all, he thought, underneath the prestige and pageantry, they had always, every single one of them, been stuck in an endless dance; tonight was simply the one night they could all happily, and unknowingly, acknowledge that.