Because Jessica wasn’t aboard the ship, David Rodriguez, Regent of Corynthe, king in all but name, was able to go straight to meetings, without having to have a slow round of formal receptions welcoming her home.
Jessica had always grumbled privately about the effort, but she did understand the visuals of the task, and how much she meant to the people who were beginning to think like members of a polity, and not just the next victim-in-waiting. Or working to make someone else the next victim.
So he was in Jessica’s favorite boardroom, seated in her chair at the end of the table. Uly Larionov and Flag Centurion Enej Zivkovic were on his left and right, representing the government. Arott Whughy was next to Enej, representing the military might of both Corynthe and Aquitaine.
At the far end of the table, David observed his mother, Desianna Indah-Rodriguez, widow of Arnulf, former King of the Pirates. It had been six years since Jessica had avenged Arnulf and taken the throne, keeping it just warm enough that nobody would challenge her, or David as her regent.
Not that anybody of that mind had survived the original purges, but there were always fools. Jessica herself had thought it would take three generations for civilization to fully take hold. He had bet her that they could do it in two.
His mother had taken the role of Prime Minister. If there was a more-dangerous politician left in all of Corynthe, it was probably Uly, seated next to the throne as Comptroller of the Crown.
Uly’s nephew, Galen, had accompanied Desianna and Jessica to Fribourg, and sat now on Mother’s right, with Wiley on her left, as Shiori finished her update.
An awkward silence descended as people absorbed her words, but her smile had not dimmed one bit in the time she was away. Grown, if anything.
David was acutely aware that he was only Regent, serving at Jessica’s whim, even though she had made it clear that her duties might never allow her to return full-time, at least until she retired from active duty in another decade or two. And even then, she might abdicate in his favor, once people got used to the idea of him in charge.
But he also knew that she trusted him to do things right. Slowly, overcoming centuries of inertia and tradition, but correctly and properly. As much as it pained him sometimes.
“Mother, Wiley, Galen, thank you for what you have done, and welcome home,” he said. “We’ll have a small party tomorrow for everyone, that will additionally serve as a going-away for the First Expeditionary Fleet.”
David turned his attention to the man in white. But for Jessica Keller, Arott Whughy would be the top prospect to become First Lord in this generation of Aquitaine officers. He might still be, since Jessica was obviously going to be doing ten thousand other things, and Arott had spent a year here effectively acting as Vice Admiral of the Corynthe Fleet.
A useful training program. Maybe he should suggest it to Jessica.
Whughy’s recruiting drive had been very successful. David would miss the hundreds of young people, more than three to one female, who had taken Aquitaine up on the offer of service, but he also knew that many of them would come back in a decade and make Corynthe a better place.
And he didn’t have to worry about Wiley deciding she wanted his job. Or anyone getting through that woman to try to take it from him.
“Fleet Centurion?” David asked formally. It was a mere formality, but Whughy prized form probably more than content. In that, he differed greatly from Jessica. “How soon can your squadron be prepared to depart? From Desianna’s descriptions, you won’t be needed immediately for the war effort, but I also know your folks want to go home.”
“There are two remaining projects on the ground that I would like to wrap up, sire,” Arott replied quickly. “But we have been prepared for seven weeks now, so we should be able to depart within a week and not leave things undone.”
Undone. A man intent on seeing things to completion. Tax revenues had gone up fourteen percent in the last year, as his teams built and improved facilities, freeing up capital for investment in people and training. And had worked to weld Corynthe into a thing, and not just a place.
Arnulf’s dream, brought to fruition by his widow, his successor, and his oldest son.
David nodded. He glanced at his principle advisors. Enej and Uly nodded as well. A week would be sufficient.
“Wiley,” he said. “I want to hear about the Buran attacker now. And what it is that Yan Bedrov and Galen have cooked up. Pops will be ecstatic if there are new things to build.”