Nolin was of a mind with his twin sister that Sirens, at least the Courtesan clan that they had grown up with were perhaps just a bit over dramatic.

Even before it was properly begun he could feel the faint pitter patter of sharpened clarity that forewarned he was being subtly manipulated.

Old gifts from the very family that was now hosting him instilling awareness that his culture was being pulled by his environment unnaturally.

It was all a bit excessive.

Not to say that either Nolin or Solin did not appreciate all the ceremony, ritual, extravagant food or over indulgences offered to those that participated in the seemingly inexhaustible appetite Courtesan had for evocative demonstration.

But this was a bit much for an interview.

Anyone who wanted to know Pylo Courtesan and her competencies and abilities just had to subscribe to the young scion’s public quorum.

It was even now extensively available, including the gushing sycophants and endless suggestions who weighed in on every single aspect of any of the Siren’s lives.

The betting rings on how long it would take the Siren’s latest fumbling with their esoteric perceptive partitioning to collapse back into coherence with the rest of them had collectively a fortune comparable to Nolin’s richest Grandsire Osili’s total wealth moving through it in liquid assets alone.

Solin flicked some tiny vittle confection of nearly pure glucose at him from across the Carthissium.

He swooped slightly and caught it in a mouth. It was interesting but the structures that spoke to the artistry of its culinary preparation were not particularly tuned to his species.

But even then he could appreciate the sheer wealth on display in how it had been crafted.

He and his sister compared the details of how each of them had experienced the food and unsurprisingly there were nuances that had somehow been there for each of them despite the majority of it not even being meant for Dragoon consumption.

And not a single one of the snacks either of them had sampled had the same experience as another.

That was the Estate for you.

The Courtesan Estate was a marvel, even the so called ‘generic’ snack foods were individually uniquely experienced works of art. Nevermind when you actually requested a refreshment from one of the attendants.

Attendants who were nobility and direct members of the clan themselves!

On the trip through the outer hallways Solin had asked for a bit of pick me up and been nearly inconsolable over the beauty of the dish she was given after just a taste.

It had so overwhelmed his romantic sister they had to pause for her to recover!

They were nearly late.

After that both twins had agreed it was best to stick to the ‘standard’ foodstuffs available instead of asking for anything to be served to them individually.

And that was just the food!

There was music humming through every fiber of every structure as they were escorted into the boundary volumes of the estate by Sirens and Masque!

There were the views, every vantage a mastercraft of wonders expanding out over the biomes of the Courtesan Menagerie.

There were defenses that Nolin was certain were exposed purely for his appreciation and pleasure. Practically posing for his consideration with all the power appropriate to the very heart of the Courtesan clan.

Or as much as his own ability to perceive allowed.

He assumed the greatest defenses were so vast as to be beyond him.

There had not been a major military action upon the Star Hold of Matriarch’s Gown since his ancestors first entered into service to the Courtesan clan as their Leiges.

A contract that had been fulfilled to the greatest satisfaction of all parties so long ago that to read the original document you either needed to dedicate three broods of the Matriarch to educate yourself in the script it was written or request a Siren Librarian for translation.

So long ago even the after action reports from common contractors hired in the defense against that invasion were considered prized treasures and relics in the academies of the knights errant.

Nolin and Solin had been able to view only experiential recordings of the one housed at their own legate marche’s capital.

And that had required a favor from Grandsire Osili and a Courtesan verification of their lineage and loyalty to get that close to the fragile substrates.

Which had also been done under great ceremony and spectacle.

Of course.

Because Sirens.

As Nolin had been musing they were very big on ceremony.

Case in point this intensive and absolutely decadent act of theater.

It was officially supposed to be a presentation and example of competence by the ‘prospective’ crewmember.

As if anyone else on the crew had the munitions to even think of turning her down?!

The ruination from the political fallout alone!?

Still they demanded a ceremony for this, and alright, fine, sure show a flashy spectacle.

Accommodating the nobility of Clan Courtesan was practically family tradition for every dragoon in Matriarch’s Gown.

But a demonstration and test of competence?

For one Siren Pylo, Daughter of Courtesan, Scion and Daughter of the Matriarch’s second to most recent brood?

The idea was laughable, when it had been brought up both Solin and Nolin had tumbled so hard in humor over it and the absurdities of their leiges that one of them (it was a secret between the twins held in greatest confidence which but it was totally the clutz Solin’s fault) ruptured a barrel of high yield rations and nearly blew up their barrack’s snack larder.

Test the competence of a direct descent daughter of Matriarch Courtesan?!

Who even now was maneuvering herself through a torrent of public interactions?

Smoothly contemplating and weighing the input of millions of courtiers, critics, admirers, sycophants, detractors and churning haters and pinning potential lovers besides?

Keeping a running correspondence and personalized exchange of pleasantries, advice and in several cases quite delightful poetry with thousands?

If Nolin had wanted to expend half of his veteran legate fund on the outrageous fees needed to rent from one of her fanatics the attention parceled to them and promote his own communique to her direct attention he could have even been talking with her himself right now.

However, why would he bother?

Solin had already bought a shared line of contact herself and it’s not like he was not literally going to be officially speaking to Pylo shortly. In an official and possibly direct capacity no less!

There were bounties in the less savory markets back home in the Braxal Aggregate that would pay his cumulative life’s productivity in credit for a single spore from Pylo.

Like every Siren Scion set to depart the Starhallow Pylo’s effects and traces markets were priming for the total collapse in supply and the eventual reliquary demand to come in the ages to follow.

That she had something unique to attach to her chosen departure seemed that her fanatics were liable to maybe settle into a full and long lasting cult.

All important details for one of the pair of security specialists to consider.

As vital to know what values were held by those that could want his fellow crewmates harm or be motivated to interfere with them and their effort.

Courtesan Sirens attracted obsessive interest like a Dragoon accumulated dust in their f’teropods.

Ah Finally!

According to the Pylo’s Publicity Reporting Guild signs pointed high she had finally gotten up the nerve to begin the ceremony.

There had been a general shift in mood from the hundred and seven or so correspondence reporters discussing it with her.

Solin was already fluttering her soft f’teropod coat into presentable patterns and regalia. Family crest, educational order and accolades across her wings, ventral and dorsal sides mirroring each other.

Nolin gave his own a shake before pulling them together in the light refractions needed. He turned his eyes to a complementary chroma to his twin sister’s own choice.

She was usually the better of the two of them in dress uniform and spectrum coordination. So it was best that he matched her own choices then risk clashing horribly.

Solin would of course complement and follow her brother’s lead next time they needed to wrangle with a threat analysis.

And then like a dream Pylo entered into the Catharsisium. Radiant and beautiful as only a Siren raised to it could be.

He always thought somehow he’d grow used to how they did this.

By sheer repetition and exposure to all their pageantry it surely should have happened.

But every time he saw one put the effort in, Nolin was struck as he could only imagine his ancestors had been when first they came, bedraggled and outcast from their homes before Courtesan’s daughters.

Of course, The Courtesans themselves provided counteragents to the bloodline mingled with his ancestors. Defenses to protect against enemy action by foreign Sirens or other greater powers.

Signals that added trepidation and sparks of suspicion and fear to clarify his attention even here in the heart of their power, undeniable and solid even long after the contract was resolved.

Such ancient instincts rose in a deafening cascade now, far in excess of what normally would be acceptable in even one of their Opulent ceremonies, but this was a Carthissium so that thrilling buzz was a key part of the intended experience.

The splendor of the Courtesan unfiltered.

Every time he experienced it he understood how his family had declared them their leiges and swore to that contract in their defense even though it was on the eve of a terrible and horrific war.

A test of Competence?

It was a joke.

But at least it was a really enjoyable joke.