Eurydice (Morathor and CuteDragon)

[Morathor]

Miss Claremont,

Your presence is expected at Greenview Hall this afternoon to discuss your first commission. The carriage will arrive at your residence at twenty past three precisely. You will wear the garments which accompanied this letter, as well as the black-enameled gold bracelet you recieved previously.

Schedule permitting, we will review your training thus far, and you will take your supper in the drawing room afterward. When you have finished eating, you will be returned to your residence.

Your most gracious patron,
His grace the Duke of Eunburrough,
Read Admiral Dominic Asterbran

The letter had arrived at 10:30, nearly five hours before the carriage was to pick her up. Honestly, it was barely enough time for her to prepare. Between the standards of hygiene her patron expected of her, and the elaborate garments he had sent over for her to wear, she barely had time for lunch--even with her attendant's assistance.

This was to be Calliana's fourth visit to Greenview Hall in the three weeks since she'd signed her contract with Duke Asterbran; her patron seemed to prefer calling on her in his own estate in The Isles, though he had also made two visits to her comfortable flat in Asphodel. All told, this was fairly typical of his letters, from the suddenness of the announcement, to the inclusion of new clothing he expected her to wear for the occasion, to the resolute use of "you will." Asterbran never presented these appointments as either a request or a demand, but as statements of fact.

What made this letter stand out from the others was one word: commission. If all went well in this meeting, it would mean her first chance to leave Orbital Station Elysium, descend to the savage Underworld far below, and prove her mettle.

One of Asterbran's carriages arrived at 3:20 on the dot; given that the vehicle had no driver, navigating the city on its own with mechanical precision, it would probably have been more surprising for its timing to be imperfect. It waited only until it registered Calliana's weight settling onto the cushions before the doors snapped shut and she was carted off, winding her way through the streets of Asphodel. Eventually the carriage found its way to an elevator. Two guards were posted, but made no move to stop the carriage. Even if they didn't recognize which family owned the crest engraved in the wooden paneling on the door, the luxurious expense of the vehicle told them its owner had the right to access any elevator he pleased. So, they saluted Calliana as the carriage came to a halt; with a shudder, the ground began to rise, shakily at first, then more and more smoothly with each passing yard. After a few minutes, the carriage emerged into The Isles.

While Asphodel's simulated sky was far more comforting than the naked bulkheads looming over the streets of Tartarus, where Calliana had spent the worst of her childhood, they were still nothing compared to the vast expanse of stars beyond the translucent dome over the Isles. The light of the sun streamed in from the starboard side of the colony, nurturing the plantlife that covered much of the sprawling landscape of the noble district--from tidy trimmed grass to her patron's prized orchard.

But Calliana's destination was away from the sun, towards the port side, where the dome gave her a view of the Underwold--a massive expanse that filled her vision, even from Elysium's orbit. A swirling haze of purple fog obscured most of the land masses, but here and there she could catch a glimpse of lush green vegetation. The carriage took her nearly to the edge of the dome, where Greenview Hall, Duke Asterbran's estate, stood stark against the backdrop of the fallen world below.

It was almost 4 when the carriage finally came to a stop in front of the main entrance to Greenview, and its doors opened to let Calliana out. There was a man standing on the front steps, seemingly waiting for her arrival--a butler, by his uniform. He gave a small, polite bow. "Miss Claremont. His Grace is expecting you."

 

[CuteDragon]

Calliana was thrilled. Things were finally starting to move in the right direction. A chance to show her capabilities, and to impress her new Lord. She could not afford to mess this up, the warnings of her mother echoing in her ears. This was her one shot at reclaiming a life that she had been denied by cruelties of her birth. If Duke Asterbran continued to be pleased and impressed, her status would be secured and a future, far away from the under-slums of Tartarus would be hers. At the moment, she felt her hold was tenuous, fragile, like gossamer spider’s web. This lovely flat while perhaps, modest by the standards of the nobility, was as spacious and comfortable as anything she had dared dream of. Few people knew such comfort below level 10 of the habitat. The lower one descended, the poorer the standards, and she had grown up so very far below here.

As she dressed hurriedly, luxuriating in the fine silks, lace and tight fitting corsetry, she caught a few glances of herself in the long mirror. It was still a surprise to see herself so clean, and well groomed. Her body, though lean and quick, was full figured with a classic hourglass figure much like her mother’s. The lingerie set off her curves, the corset accentuating her slender waist, and the sculpted dress emphasising her ample bosom. Her fiery red hair and shining green eyes were striking. Years of interbreeding on the station had led to less variation in skin tone and hair colours down below, and her striking pale skin and stunning hair clearly demonstrated her more refined bloodlines.

As she rode in the carriage, she did not think she could ever tire of the views on the journey. TO one growing up with only descriptions of the upper levels, to see them was like riding through one’s dreams.

All too soon, the journey was over, and she took the proffered hand of a footman gratefully as she descended from the carriage to enter her Lord’s estate. She nodded politely to the butler, smiling warmly.

"I'm only too glad to be here. I am at my Lord's disposal."

She knew she may well be put to work on the planet below, and, as much as she liked her new wardrobe, she yearned to test her skill on the dangerous world all peoplehad once called home.

 

[Morathor]

The butler nodded, then turned to escort Calliana through the mansion. The decor of Greenview was dark and subdued, with glossy blacks, rich browns, and lush forest greens dominating the walls, floors, and ceilings. Tasteful accents of shining silver and vibrant emerald added a bit of brightness, and the rooms were laden with paintings and tapestries that broke up the monotony of the vast, dark walls.

The path along which the butler led Calliana was familiar to her. Through the foyer, then the central hall, which was was flanked by staircases on either side. Up the left staircase, then past the large picture windows which looked down on a small enclosed courtyard, through a series of rooms and hallways. The butler led her past the bedroom where she had spent her last two visits. Instead he stood by the door to a room she had only seen briefly, passing through it on her way to the office where she had initially negotiated and signed her contract. "His Grace will see you now."

Inside, Dominic Asterbran sat at a desk, brow furrowed, pouring over what looked to be a map. His long, thin fingers moved over the surface of the image, not quite touching it as he manipulated it, scrolling this way and that, zooming in and out as details caught and lost his attention. He reached up absentmindedly and ran his hand through his short, tousled hair--which he had been doing quite a bit of, it seemed, judging by its modest dishevelment. This was in contrast to his clothes, which were formal and immaculate as always, and tightly fitted to his slender form. Although Calliana had had the opportunity to see the toned musculature of his lean body, with his clothes on, and with his imposing height masked by his sitting position, he did not look the part of a prize-winning fencer or pugilist. He certainly did not look the part of an Admiral--twenty-nine was quite young even for the lowest of Rear Admirals, and his smooth skin and delicate features seemed to take a few years off of even that.

Although he did not look up when Calliana arrived, he did speak. "Miss Claremont. Sit." The slightest of nods indicated an unoccupied chair across the desk from him.

 

[CuteDragon]

Calliana walked with a fluid, measured grace born of her natural agility, breeding and her mother's careful tuition. It was hard not to accelerate. Her eagerness to prove herself gave energy to her steps. She felt constrained by the corsets, garter and heels. She felt like she could run and jump. But now was a time for careful movement and considered actions.

That didn’t make it any easier.

But as she was ushered in she composed herself, a soft mile on her lips as she moved inside. His Grace was as well turned out as ever and she found her affected smile shifted to a more natural one as she reflected on how fortunate she was. This was a good position with a wealthy and powerful man. She had been very lucky to have caught his eye.

“Your Grace.” She nodded, and took the proffered chair, sitting at a three quarter angle as she had been taught to accentuate her looks. “I trust you are well, Sir?” she enquired, her head tilting slightly.

 

[Morathor]

"Well enough." Finally Asterbran looked up from his map, looking Calliana up and down with an appraising gaze. He gave a slight, approving nod. "But I'm sure you're eager to proceed with business. Have a look."

He adjusted the the map, zooming out almost to a continental scale. With Calliana's education on the Underworld, the area was clearly identifiable as a northern region of the eastern hemisphere. "Your destination is here." He put a fingertip carefully on the map, leaving a black mark near the base of a mountain range. When he pulled his hand back, the dot he had left behind flickered, replacing itself with a small red circle. "And, Elysium's orbit." He traced a black line across the map, which shimmered once he withdrew his hand and turned into a smooth blue arc, with a larger green dot near the edge of the canvas. Asterbran hovered his finger over the dot and slid it along the arc; as it drew close to the red circle, a faint dotted line began to appear between the two. It grew darker and bolder as the dot got nearer to the circle, then faded again as he moved past it. "We're four days from an optimal launch position. You'll have seven days on the surface until retrieval. In that time, your objective..."

Asterbran rolled up the map and set it aside, then reached towards a platter of fine china, piled high with apples. He took one and leaned back in his chair, staring intently down at the fruit in his hand rather than biting into it. After a moment he spoke. "Of course you are aware that when our ancestors left the Underworld, they had to leave a great deal behind. Material resources, to be sure, but also many achievements of the arts and sciences. Lost treasures of literature, architecture... botany..." He slid the platter across the table towards Calliana. "Please, help yourself. Take any kind you like; we grow twelve. They are the rarest and most coveted cultivars, grown with the greatest care and dedication to ensure the highest quality fruit. The finest orchard, not only in Elysium, but in all of orbit. Still." He took leather-bound book from the other side of desk and began leafing through it. "As a collection it is peerless, but as individual trees they're hardly unique. This, though..." He set the book down in front of Calliana, open to a page of barely legible writing and fairly impressive sketches. One of those sketches depicted a tree.

"These notes are from an expedition a few years back. This a cultivar abandoned in the exodus. An apple that mankind has not seen in centuries."

 

[CuteDragon]

Cally had only had an apple once. It had been years ago on her birthday, a rare treat. IT had been a pathetic thing compared to the specimens on the platter. But her memory of that apple had been sharp sweetness, juice and an explosion of flavor. It was one of a handful of memorable foods she had eaten, and a far cry from the sludge served on lower levels.

And these apples were so much more than that had been. These were larger, rounder and seemed to radiate health. It took a measure of control to restrain here eagerness to try one. She took won with delicate poise and paused to give thanks before she took a small bite.

But her poise and training were shattered by the sensations in her mouth.

Her eyes meeting Asterbans with an expression of wonder, she chewed, her mouth alive with juice.

“Sweet Mercy!” she exclaimed after she swallowed the small bite. “It’s… incredible. Than you , You’re Grace.”

She kept eating, trying to pace herself, to savour each bite as she studied the map. Seven days on surface. This was what she had been trained for. Eventually she managed to regain some composure, though her cheeks glowed and her eyes sparkles as she relished the fruit.

“Seven days.” She breathed. She would see a sunset, and a sunrise, for real, not on a screen. She would feel real wind. And the goal, a new variety of fruit, something new to grow and eat.A real task, doing real good. It was all she had ever wanted.

“What do we know of dangers in the area? How shall I be equipped? I’m trained in firearms and archery, as well as knife fighting.” She blushed lightly, realising he would already know all her competencies.

 

[Morathor]

His brow furrowed as he waved his hand, as if to disperse her sudden chatter. "Yes, yes, of course. I've allocated a rifle for your use, along with twenty-four ion rounds, fourty-eight armor piercing rounds, and fourty-eight hollow point rounds. A composite bow, with twelve ion-head arrows and eighty steel-tipped arrows." Despite the abundance of ammunition being offered, its usefulness was dubious as far as self-defense went. The beasts of the Underworld had thick hides and dense flesh, difficult to injure with the weapons humans used against each other. Ion weaponry had been developed that reacted to the corruption in their flesh, breaking it down so it could be cut through more easily, but even after centuries of research, they had only begun to make the technology compact enough to make viable projectiles, and a lot of the potency was lost. Arrows served better than bullets, but either way the ranged weapons were mainly a deterrent, inflicting enough pain to drive the creatures away. If one were pressed to slay a beast...

"As for knives, I'd like you to try these." Asterbran lifted a cloth bundle from the floor near his feet and set it on the table, unfolding it to show an array of knives. Their edges were dull, and she could clearly see that the "ion cell" in the handle of each was just a carved detail. "The replicas are weighted as precisely like real ion blades as humanly possible. Find the one whose weight best suits you. You'll take it home to practice, and I'll have a proper blade constructed to those specifications."