The QMMU Reception Hall bells tolled three times and students started to stream out from lecture halls, libraries, and auditoriums that had become stuffy and the stale air could finally be recycled. Adea swung open the main double doors of Duke of Camlann History Building angrily, putting force behind her push that betrayed the frustration she felt. Edward and Sandy followed a few steps behind, judging it in their best interest to keep quiet until the angry redhead had calmed down at least a smidgen. Edward couldn’t help but steal a few looks at his handcom, cognizant that Arvind was still waiting for him, but he selfishly didn’t want to steal away without saying goodbye properly to Adea, and perhaps ask her something inane like, same time next week? The noble girl opened her ponytail and ran a hand through her loose hair, ruffling it while muttering angry words under her breath.

“Having a fit are we?” a cold voice came from behind the trio, and they turned as one to regard short Lady de Vere. Up close, Edward had to admit she was even prettier than his initial first impression, but her pinkish eyes were blank, and her mouth a stern slit. Adea smiled crookedly, and made a mocking curtsy to the shorter girl.

“Nothing of the sort, just expressing my disgruntlement at falling short of your own superlative mastery of the field of history, Lady de Vere.”

De Vere snorted in derision.

“Hardly, Lady Sélincourt, and you know full well that’s crock. Everyone can forget something, and it’s not like you had been asked to prepare a script for today’s lecture.” The stern mouth crept up slightly at the corners.

“If you had had a prepared script, it might have been approaching tolerably acceptable. Alas, such is the hand you were dealt.”

Adea’s eyes were like flint.

“I agree wholeheartedly, and it is nothing short of lèse-majesté for forgetting bringing up the establishment of the royal house of De Roze-Linnet when giving a summary of the kingdom’s history. I am ever so grateful for you bringing it to attention, giving me the opportunity to rectify my grave error, improving my lacklustre summary by even the slightest margin.”

Adea’s words were dripping with sarcasm, and de Vere was visibly getting more and more annoyed, a fisted hand scrunching the hem of her skirt.

“Indeed, see to it that you do not slip up so gravely in the future. Such a display was unbecoming of your esteemed pedigree. But what can one expect from the daughter of…”

De Vere drifted off without completing the sentence, and Adea bowed deeply.

“My deepest apologies, My Lady, if my presence causes you discomfort. Thus, I will retire, and allow you to get on with your day without having to further debase yourself interacting with the likes of me and mine.”

Without waiting for an answer, Adea simply turned and stormed off in the direction of the main cluster of campus buildings, Sandy following close behind with her eyes concentrating on the ground. Edward, completely nonplussed, looked back and forth between the bickering noblewomen, and made a short bow –which was actually genuine, he had been brought up to respect the peers of the realm– to de Vere, who simply scoffed, before hustling after the two other girls.

“Not, um, that it’s remotely any of my business or anything,” Edward said after catching up, “but, uh, what was all that about?”

Sandy dropped back to walk alongside Edward and let out a resigned sigh.

“You remember what Adea said in the first half of the lecture about new nobility being created after the founding of Amaranth and Angevin?”

Edward nodded; he had had his own encounters with Amaranthine nobility, who by and large were much less… “aristocratic” than their Auroran homelander counterparts.

“Well,” Sandy continued, “the de Veres were a minor noble family that emigrated to Angevin in the first wave of colonisation, carving out for themselves vast estates that just happened to be on top of numerous veins of thorium and high quality perovskite. That made the de Veres stupidly rich when they got around to putting mines down, and they were hugely important in helping improve the fledgling colony with financial support, which earned them an elevation from ‘mere’ earls and countesses to dukes and duchesses by King Alexander in 2493. And as you know, a duchess’ daughter is higher in the aristocratic food-chain than a marquess’s daughter, which is why Adea is forced by social mores to be… reverent. Why they’re at each other’s throats this much, well…”

Sandy let the last sentence hang in the air a bit while looking at Adea, who was staring straight ahead, and though clearly paying attention to what Edward and Sandy was talking about, was evidently not protesting.

“Well, Artemisia’s father, the Duke of Trewellynshire, is creating merry hell for Adea’s mother, the Countess Darkmoor, in the House of Lords, as he is one of the chief voices of the Conservative Party. The Tories and the Royalists-Social Liberals coalition are at loggerheads regarding foreign policy and the armed forces funding, especially the increasingly expensive Royal Navy budget. And Lady Darkmoor, given her dual role as serving captain in the Royal Navy and politician, is one of the Royalists’ most prominent figures in the defence budget debates. So yeah, that’s why they don’t get along swimmingly. The sins of our fathers and all that…”

Edward could only nod; he was feeling more and more like a fish out of water, suddenly getting a first-person glimpse of the world of the privileged and the inner machinations of the kingdom’s politics. Like most students, he was doing a fair job of being caught up with the national and interstellar news cycle, but Edward was forced to admit he was woefully ignorant of the trickle-down effect on a personal level of disagreements on the Parliament floor. Then again, up until today he hadn’t actually met anyone with a personal tie to Parliament, much less the illustrious House of Lords. The House of Lords, the upper chamber of the Auroran Parliament which was housed in the Palace of Goldbrook in Cordelia, had 671 seats reserved for hereditary peers of the Auroran kingdom, any vacancy of which could be claimed by any unseated noble. In earlier times, the lords and ladies of the House hadn’t been tied to party affiliations, but after the establishment of the House of Commons and the monarchy, the party-based organisation of the Commons had bled into the Lords. This had created a culture of requiring a cross-house majority for any political party or coalition to effectively claim electoral victory.

The revised constitution of 2236 also called for the prime minister to come from the Commons, as it was deemed thoroughly undemocratic that a non-elected person could lead a country where the vast, vast majority were commoners, but it was virtually impossible to lead the country without support from both houses. As such, it had become part and parcel of political process to spread effort and expenditure across both houses, since many of the most marketable politicians were actually non-elected peers, such as the Duke of Dawnshire and the Marquess of Howeland. This had also inevitably led to horse-trading for seats in the Lords, with some parties (the Tories being the most notorious, given their deep pockets) trading cash for seats under the table. This was in Auroran law considered corruption of the worst degree, but the spin doctors were always able to create some semi-plausible narrative that absolved the involved parties of blame. It hadn’t always been this bad, but the extreme isolationism of the Conservatives in response to the Royalists’ championing of the naval build-up of the past few decades was forcing parties to change their tactics.

What it practically meant was that the Conservatives had a huge number of seats in the Lords, but only a few in the Commons as their political platform was largely anathema to the man and woman in the street. Thus, they were able to be a true pain in the ass in the Lords, stopping or delaying bills at their leisure since any bill required approval from both houses as well as royal assent. And the Duke of Trewellynshire, Artemisia de Vere’s father, was apparently born to be a nagging pedant, but his influence in Parliament was undeniable.

“How do you know all of this?” Edward asked, with Sandy shrugging her shoulders in response.

“We’ve been friends for sixteen, seventeen years at this point, so I’ve picked up this and that. Furthermore, it’s not like this isn’t public information. You only have to watch the streams from discussion in the Lords to pick up on it, especially since Trewellynshire and his Tory ilk seems to be targeting Countess Darkmoor, the Lord Howeland, the Countess Greenvale, and the Earl Charnwood; in other words the most outspoken Royalist peers in regards to the naval build-up and Union relations. That sort of stuff has a tendency to create tension, especially when the nobility as a whole is under such public scrutiny. And it certainly doesn’t help that this is an election year, with the Commons more or less up for grabs.”

Edward opened his mouth to ask how Adea and Artemisia (that was her Christian name?) knew each other on a personal basis, but the redhead suddenly turned on her heels and clapped her hands together while smiling.

“Alright, enough about that boring stuff, let’s talk about something else, something more fun.” She was smiling, but Edward could see that the smile didn’t really reach her eyes. “Like you, Edward.”

Edward stopped in his tracks. “Uh, I’m sorry, talk about me, My Lady?”

Adea made a waving gesture with one hand.

“Oh, just fuck off with the ‘My Lady’ stuff, we’re not at St. Andrew’s Palace, no need to stand on parade. Just call me fucking Adea like Sandy over here, like all my friends and family do.” Edward couldn’t help but notice how Adea’s highborn accent turned what would be considered crude swears stupidly cute, and he kicked himself mentally immediately. Stop getting ideas, you idiot, keep your cool for once in your life.

She suddenly plumped down on one of the benches spread out among the flower beds of the QMMU greenery area, hiking one leg over the other and patting the bench beside her in a “come sit” gesture that was hard to misinterpret. Edward swallowed hard. He did as he was told, feeling as awkward as he’d ever felt in his life, increasingly so when Sandy plopped down next to him with a knowing smirk on her face.

“So,” Adea said, turning to face Edward with their noses only a few inches apart, oh dear God what the hell is happening, “you haven’t said what major you’re taking? Also, you apparently immediately recognised me just when we were going to van Fluyten’s lecture, what’s up with that?”

Edward cleared his throat in an effort to buy time, and realised he was getting knowing glances from Sandy.

“I mean,” he started while fidgeting with his fingers in a nervous fashion, “you’re sort of hard to miss…” You’re stepping into a minefield here; choose wisely the next words that will exit your mouth. “Someone from your distinguished family attending a public university is sort of a spectacle in of itself. I mean…” Edward was perfectly aware that he was grasping for any sort of handhold now, “someone of your pedigree and means would probably have attended the Raleigh University of Technology or enter the King William’s Naval Academy instead of going to the QMMU, given that it’s state-sponsored, which means people like me can enter and…”

He shut his mouth with a click. Sandy looked like she could barely hold a boisterous laughter back, while Adea was examining him through slightly squinted eyes. After a spell her mouth jumped up into a smile.

“So, what does ‘people like you’, who you seemingly insist are inconsequential, study at this state-sponsored public university? You’re apparently part of the Humanities, since you have PolHis with us two idiots,” Adea said with an accompanying flick of Sandy’s ear, reaching behind Edward’s back, making him even more uncomfortable.

“But let me guess,” she continued after suppressing a few giggles at Sandy’s ineffectual attempts at retaliation, “you kind of seem like a history major, with the glasses and all, but that would be playing to stereotypes. And you’re not Political Science; I would have noticed you…” Take notes, take notes! “So I’m going with either an Art History or a Social Anthropology major.”

Adea shuffled uncomfortably close again. “Tell me, how close was I to the mark?”

This close, Edward could make out the tiny specks of grey in Adea’s otherwise perfectly ice-blue eyes, the freckles so carefully concealed at a distance by expertly applied makeup, the slight crookedness of her nose, a few dirty pores here and there. She’s not some goddess to revered, you moron, she’s just a person like you. Right now she’s seeing the same kind of imperfections in your face. You’re both humans, both youths under the same star, but born to oh-so different circumstances.

“You’re close enough, alright,” Edward heard himself say. Given the extreme heat he felt rising in his cheeks, he was as sure as sure could be that he turned just as beet-red as Adea’s face the moment after the words left his mouth, and the two spent a few uncomfortable moments looking straight ahead at nothing in particular. Smooth, my man, very smooth. It’s probably less painful to shoot yourself in the foot with a pulse-rifle.

“Ah, I mean, that is to say, you were very close, My La… Adea,” he managed to stutter after a short while that had seemed to stretch forever (he could veritably feel the mischievous aura emanating from Sandy), “I am a Classical Music major, classical piano to be more exact, soon to be done with my fourth semester. I’ll be choosing a style beginning next semester to specialise in. But before that I have a few recitals and practical exams to get through, as well as two concerts with the QMMU Student Baroque Orchestra that aren’t precisely curriculum, but with the professors in attendance, it might as well be.”

Edward realised his palms were very sweaty and he was short of breath.

“Well, if that’s the case,” the lilting alto-soprano on his right veritably sang in his ear, “I would like to hear you play sometime.” I think this is just about the time I’m supposed to wake up from the dream, isn’t it?

“I, uh, I’ll send you an invite when the concertos are ready, if it please your La… Adea-ship… Please forget I said that.” Edward was pretty sure you could cook an egg on his cheeks. Sing-song laughter and guffaws filled his ears from both left and right.

“I will send you a reminder,” Adea said through her laughter, “don’t worry about that.”

“Aye,” Sandy agreed from the opposite side, “I wouldn’t miss you playing the grand piano for a grand audience, especially given the evidence you’ve given these past hours just talking to the girl of yo-OUCH”

Sandy rubbed her shoulder fervently where Edward had whacked her hard with his notebook, accompanied with a desperate look that practically begged for her to shut her mouth, and Sandy gave him the slightest of winks. He took a deep breath.

“You didn’t say why you’re here at Queen Marie’s, My Lady.” Adea’s expression didn’t exactly change visibly, but there was some felt discomfort behind the façade she was trying her very best to maintain.

“As you might know,” she started, some of the previous humour colouring her tone, “I’ve been accelerated from upper secondary, since that didn’t exactly prove a challenge. As such, I was enrolled into the Political Science majors programme just days after turning seventeen. This is just a stopgap though, as my fate has been more or less decided for me.”

She looked past Edward towards to Sandy, who in turn tried her best to look in any other direction.

“There are a lot of people in our so-called meritocratic society who are born into fates they cannot escape from…” Adea cleared her throat, which made Edward suddenly sit up a bit straighter.

“The nobility of this kingdom has a tradition of service, either in the Foreign Office, in Parliament, as part of the Public Service, or in the military. My family has been Royal Navy since before Aurorans colonised any other world, so it is only natural that I follow in the steps of my forebears.”

Adea reached over Edward again and nudged Sandy’s shoulder.

“Don’t leave me hanging, Miss Barham; bloody out with it.”

Sandy snorted half in amusement, half in derision.

“I’m not,” she said, “exactly looking forward to spending the next forty years or whatever in a profession that was practically chosen for me at birth because my surname is Barham, and that’s just because that my particular family include some of the most famous captains and admirals in Royal Navy history. That whole debate of free will or not is applicable in this case, really.”

Her eyes glinted with something other than humour, Edward noted, something akin to fierceness.

“However, if I am going to do this, I’ll do it by my own rules. With a psychology degree, I can apply to the Medical Branch and just spend the next few decades psychoanalysing sycophantic and disillusioned rear area officers, and be done with the whole thing without exposing myself to the frontline even once.”

Suddenly she shrugged violently, and the moment of tense seriousness was gone.

“I have no ambition becoming the next in the long and illustrious line of Barhams who nobly sacrificed themselves in the line of duty.”

“You’re such an adorable dork,” a lilting voice said from somewhere close and Edward jumped.

“Oh no,” Sandy barely managed to murmur before a shadow cast itself over the trio seated on the bench.

“Well, well, if it isn’t Her Ladyship Sélincourt out and about, with company. I do apologise for intruding in your conversation.”

The speaker was a tall male (for an Auroran, which meant just about Edward’s height), with unkempt curly dark brown hair, a bronzed hue quite a bit darker than Edward’s own, but his well-chiselled chin and obviously impressive physique partly hidden underneath his QMMU uniform put poor Edward to shame.

“Valerio, you managed to divine us.” Sandy’s tone could hardly be misconstrued, but the newcomer simply laughed.

“You found me out, Alexandra, but hear me out, I come with a missive of peace and reconciliation.”

His hazel eyes danced from Sandy, to Adea, before resting on Edward’s green ones.

“Who do we have here?” he said, but not as menacingly as Edward was expecting, “a new acquaintance that I haven’t been introduced to?”

He stooped slightly down and offered his hand. Edward, stupefied at what was going on simply responded and the newcomer shook his hand vigorously.

“Right, proper greeting that is, I like it.” He winked at Edward, and Edward immediately realised this Valerio was much more comfortable moving in the upper social circles than he himself was. Although that is not saying much.

“I was coming over,” Valerio continued while standing back upright, “to invite the lot of you to drinks this Friday at the Pale Peacock in Guildernstern Street.” His eyes shifted to consider Edward again.

“But if you have plans…” His voice trailed off intentionally, but Sandy jumped up and grabbed his arm.

“Oh but of course we don’t, we’d be delighted to join. And of course you’d be delighted if Adea paid for the whole affair.”

That last comment made Valerio suddenly look slightly uncomfortable, but Adea rose from her perch and patted him on the shoulder.

“I don’t mind paying for your drinks, Valerio.”

Said tall dark youth started to grin.

“But only if you allow Edward here to tag along, and let me pay for his drinks as well.”

The smile quickly turned very artificial.

Dear God, what have I gotten myself involved in?