The hearings were finished, the petitioners returned to their homes, the Palace grounds closed and closely watched.

In their towers, the leaders of the Legion and the Council were dealing with the matters that arose over the last days. In the Legion’s case, these were few as only support troopers had been supplied. They did however have the responsibility of enforcing any ruling of the Dark Lord on any world affected. This was a tricky, but not immediate or unsolvable problem.

*********

However, at the offices of the Council, they were much busier. Over the four days of the hearings, there had been a flood of notices from the Palace. Everything from notices of executions to orders advising pardons, judgements and decrees of every kind. These all had to be sorted and linked together with each individual petition. Anticipating this outcome, the Council had prepared as best as it could, but the sheer volume overwhelmed the bureaucrats who had been seconded wholesale to carry out these duties. That each day of hearing had been broadcast live, simply added to the pressure.

But it was how the last day had ended that was the concern of both the First Councillor Lonna Kittitk and Marshal of the Legion Nikki Du Massi when they met.

*********

“I can’t believe it.” The First Councillor stared into the rare glass of wine she was holding. Her hands trembled.

“Yes. I was worried but I did not anticipate …. This.” Nikki Du Massi was holding her own drink.

“What are we going to do?” Lonna Kittitk was almost sobbing. “There were many injuries when everyone …” She could not finish. Dealing with the Dark Lord on an intellectual level was one thing, but a maddened Dark Lord stampeding the crowd was another.

Nikki Du Massi was tougher. She had seen hard sights and, while shaken, had recovered quickly. “If I had been there, I too would have run.” She gave a soft laugh. “Did you see the Steward? He ran, and I don’t blame him.” Her face sobered. “I watched a rerun. There were several clues I missed. The Ladies started backing away and the Steward as well. I saw him give them a glance and one, I don’t know which one, gave him some kind of warning. He seemed to warn that soldier too.”

The First Councillor stared then shrugged. “It doesn’t matter if there was some warning or not. It was terrible and we should not have allowed it to happen.”

“Not allowed it?” The Marshal laughed. There was no humour in it. She leaned forward. “There was no way we could have stopped it.” She turned and looked out the window of the First Councillor’s apartment dwelling. ‘Nice view,’ she thought inconsequently then sat forward. “Look, I spoke to General Major Dennus after the Ti Lepus incident. He was worried that the Dark Lord was acting strangely. He was too calm and the Ladies seemed … wary. He warned me then.”

‘Incident!’ thought the First Councillor, ‘What a way to describe the death of billions of people.’

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked, already knowing the answer.

“I did warn you and we talked to Him. Remember?”

Lonna Kittitk looked out her window. There was only one thing she could do. She took a deep breath. “Tomorrow, 1st Lecrita, I will go to see Him.” Looking at the Marshall, she asked. “Will you come?”

There was a nod in reply.

*********

The Palace was quiet even though it was the eleventh period. Subdued. There were guards, many of them, but few visitors or citizens in the grounds.

Silently, the Marshal and the First Councillor accompanied by their closest aides, parked in the underground park reserved for them then took the secure lift to the Steward’s office.

Stepping out they and their aides were struck by the silence. The staff stood as they entered.

“Please continue your work.” The First Councillor looked around. “Where is the Head Steward?”

“In the Hall of Hearing with the Head Carpenter, Head Painter and Head Grounds man.” The spokesman for the group looked nervous. Then at the sound of feet, looked over his shoulder. “Here is Remi of Doscue, Senior Administrator,” he said with some relief.

Briskly Remi walked up to the group.

“You wish to see Ardent Nespot?” She smiled. The visitors found the smile disconcerting.

“We came to see our Master.” Lonna Kittitk replied. The smile disappeared.

“You can’t.”

“Why not?” The First Councillor pressed.

“I don’t know.” She turned away then looked over her shoulder. “I will take you to the Head Steward. He will explain.” She handed a data cube to one of the staff. “The last of the information for the Council.” A smile of apology went to the First Councillor, who gave a bleak smile back. They started walking.

“Where is the Steward?” Lonna asked, forgetting that she had already been told.

“In the Great Hall. He is checking on the roof with the Head Carpenter and the Head Painter.”

“Roof, what happened to the roof?” the Marshal ejected.

“There is a big hole in it.”

“What!” The group came to a sudden stop.

“Our Master has shown some of his talents. He stopped in the center of the hall, laughing! Then he raised his sword and lighting blasted a hole in the roof. Not sure what happened after that as I was busy finding a hole to hide myself in. The Steward was ahead of me, and the Ladies had all disappeared.” She took a breath and started walking again. “I haven’t seen Him since, but the Steward has.”

“Is He still here?” One of the Councillors aides looked worried.

“I don’t know. That is why you have to see the Head Steward.”

They continued in silence. Coming to the great doors which stood open, they walked through and turned to the left, following that path taken six days earlier by the Ladies.

This brought a question to the mind of the First Councillor. “The Ladies, are they back?”

There a fractions silence before the response, “I have seen one or two.”

“And?”

“There is the Steward,” was the only response.

Three men were standing, looking up at a hole in the roof. The First Councillor and the Marshal stared. It was not the small hole they expected. The hole was almost ten meters across.

“Somewhat larger than I expected, Head Steward,” The Marshal craned her head back, “Is it reparable?”

“Oh yes,” The Steward replied, “A long time ago, our Master decreed that the roof be made in replaceable sections. So it is just a question of removing the damaged sections and replacing them. The hard work will be the finishing. That will take a number of months.” Ardent Nespot smiled, although he still looked strained. “I think that he planned for this. It has been repaired before.”

The Marshal looked out through the doors. “The posts. They are gone,” she exclaimed in surprise.

“Yes, they were all dead by yesterday.” Ardent replied

“And the bodies?”

“All tagged and will be sent to their home world.”

Lonna Kittitk interrupted. “All very interesting, but I have a request.”

“Of course, First Councillor. What is it?” The Head Steward asked.

“Head Steward, I need to see The Dark Lord,” the First Councillor spoke in her gravest tone.

“I am sorry, you can’t.”

“I insist.” Lonna Kittitks anger showed through her usual affable facade.

“You may insist all you want, First Councillor, but you cannot see him.” At Nespot’s pause, the First Councillor, began to angrily demand why not.

“Because First Councillor, He is not here,” The Steward broke into the angry flow of words, “And before you ask, I do not know where He is.”

At this, the First Councillor drew away, first giving the Steward a hard look, and spoke quietly with her aides.

The Marshal beckoned the Steward over and spoke quietly. “Are any of the Ladies present in the Palace?”

“There are some, I do not know if they will see you.”

“Ask them.”

The Steward gave a sigh, “I will see what I can do.”

The First Councillor stepped over to where the two were talking. “Head Steward I will deal with you, I will be submitting my resignation to you, effective midnight tonight.”

“I am sorry, I cannot accept that. I do not have the authority.”

“Then, is one of the Ladies present? I will give it to her to pass along to our Master when she sees Him.”

“Again, I am sorry, I have been informed by the Ladies that they will not accept any such message.” He looked at the Marshal. “That applies to you as well Marshal.” The Steward looked apologetic.

“So where does that leave me?” Lonna Kittitk knew that she sounded petulant but could not help it.

The Steward wore a troubled look. “As I understand it, you can only leave your position in the absence of the Dark Lord for illness or when your term expires. As the term is twenty standard years, you still have several to serve. You are in good health, so that is not a reason for leaving.” He paused. “If our Master returns, I will tell him of your wishes. That is all I can do.”

The Marshal became alert. ‘If?’

”Steward, have you spoken to our Master?” The Marshal inquired.

The Steward looked even more uncomfortable. “I have. He instructed me to look after the Palace. He also said that He would leave for a while and He gave no indication about if or when He would return.”

“I see.” The Marshal looked through the far doors again. She remembered the grim soldiers that did the Dark Lords will.

“And those that were there.” She pointed.

“They are gone.”

With a shiver, by unspoken collective agreement, they turned away from that grim place.

“He did have two more orders.” The two leading figures of the Empire looked at the Steward in surprise, anticipation and somewhat apprehensively. “It is this; The first is that no one can go out on the area known as the Wastelands, secondly, once repairs are completed the Hall Of Hearing is to be sealed.”

“That is the will of the Dark Lord?” The First Councillor was coming back on balance.

“It is.”

“Then issue the appropriate decree in proper format, I will endorse it.” She took a few steps away, then stopped and turned. “Oh, what was the final count on the last day?”

“One hundred and forty seven killed, most in the stampede and three hundred and seventy two injured. That does not include the executions ordered, there were eighteen of those. Or other punishments carried out.”

There was silence, then the First councillor turned and walked away.

The Marshal stayed. She gave the Steward a sympathetic look. “Remember what I asked earlier?”

“I will contact you as soon as I know, one way or another.”

“Thank you, we need to stay in touch.” She paused. “I will need to speak to them, as will my successors.”

“I understand.”

Calling over her aides, the Marshal gave a nod to the Steward then followed the First Councillor out.

*********

Ardent Nespot sighed. It had been more than seven months, standard, since the Day of Hearing. The Hall of Hearing had finally been repaired and was to be sealed the next day. He was the last person left in the office and was ready to leave. A sound at the door brought his head up, then had him scrambling to his feet.

“My Lord!”

“Please sit, Steward.”

The Dark Lord moved into the room.

He wandered around in silence until the Steward could bear it no more.

“My Lord, have you returned?”

“No, this is just a visit.”

“Yes, sire.” He paused. “For how long?”

“Not long.” The Dark Lord moved to a chair and took a seat.

Steadily he regarded the Head Steward. “You have been uncommonly faithful in your service. You have done well indeed. I hope that your successors are as faithful in my absence.”

“You are leaving us, sire?”

“For a time.” He looked away, then back.

“I need you to communicate this to the First Councillor as well as the Marshal. First, I do not accept her resignation. She can serve out her term. Second, I will be leaving public life for a long time. Third, the Ladies will communicate with you and your successors from time to time. These messages are for the person that will be revealed at the time. Finally, this does not mean that I am leaving completely, the Ladies will serve for me.”

The Steward found this difficult to digest. Coming to his feet, he looked hard at his Master.

“So, sire,” Ardent began slowly, “You will be leaving public life for some time, if I may use the term, but you may visit or you may be sending a message from time to time.”

“A fair summary.” The Dark Lord smiled. Then His face hardened. “This message is only for those intended. Emphasise that.”

At the harsh tone, Ardent Nespot froze. “Off course, my Lord,” he stuttered.

“Good.” The Dark Lord rose, stepped to the door and vanished.

*********

Ardent Nespot, Head Steward of the Palace, sat for a time in his chair. Slowly, he reached for his comm unit. He had a meeting to arrange.