Joseph and Stewart sat at their respective places on a triangular table that Joseph had little doubt Anneke had had made for the occasion. Her private dining room consisted of a comfortable alcove stretching out of the west wing of her palace. The room still had its opulent furnishing; no Koch would enter a place without them. The walls here were slathered with mosaics of all the famous meals that had been served in the room and the ceiling still held a crystal chandelier, made in days so far gone that only the mountains and valleys could remember them.

            Anneke entered the dining room closely followed by her two guards whom she posted outside the door. For any woman as vain as she it would have been impossible for her to eat in the same expensive, enormous dress she had took to the throne and thus she had changed to another more luxurious and gargantuan dress that was obviously far better suited for dining. Odd, Joseph thought, when they were both much younger it wasn’t uncommon for Anneke to dress in much tighter clothing that showed off the curves and arcs of her body that every man in Brooklyn knew had won her the throne, but now that she was far over the age of forty she had seemed to take a liking to a more conservative fashion.

            Anneke had still found it necessary to paint her face with a variety of cosmetics that all had rather ghastly origins related to the creatures of the Yorkae harbour and her eyes where both underlined with charcoal. Her red hair spun upwards to a bun in a latticework of braids and lace. Above her huge black dress there sat a pearl necklace that when the light shone on them made it appear as if the tears of angels graced her neck. She snapped her fingers loudly and Joseph saw the complex and alluring designs painted on long nails that must have taken hours of work by the most skilled of artists. Responding to her signal, Anneke’s servants poured through the doors and placed a variety of dishes onto the table. Anneke didn’t say a word, but instead picked up her knife from the scabbard at her side and tore into the pork, eradicating any belief in Stewart that she was a dainty female.

            Joseph and Stewart followed suit. It was custom for knights and lesser lords to cut their meat with their swords at the table, though it often proved deadly to the dinner guests, but those chief houses that ruled over Christendom all had a shortened blade imprinted with their crests and made specifically to cleave meat, of any kind. Joseph noticed that Anneke had trouble chewing the large pieces of pork she had chopped for herself but remembered that so did most great lords of the South. Her lifestyle full of expensive sugars and honey drenched goods had played havoc on her teeth and now most of them were simply pieces of etched ivory made to imitate teeth. Joseph still counted her lucky though, most lords had to use painted wood for such a purpose and the mercury in them gradually drove them insane.

            Joseph sipped from his wine goblet and then set it down with a thump onto the hard, polished table. “Do you have any idea what the Pontiff wants all the Eastern Lords here for anyways?”

            Anneke set her knife down and twirled her eyelids arrogantly, “and why would I be privy to the Pontiff’s secrets, my lord?”

            “Well,” responded Joseph a little awkwardly, “you do live much closer to him than I.”

            “The papacy is Potomac, darling.”

            “I have it on good authority he spends a great deal of time in Brooklyn here with you.”

            Anneke’s eye grew angry and she banged her fist on the table. “The papacy is in Potomac.”

            Joseph raised his hands in surrender, “okay, you win. I just thought that a lady as conceited as you would want to show off everything she knows.”

            Anneke smiled widely this time and displayed the elegantly carved ivory chunks that made up her toothy grin. Each piece had been carefully chipped and smoothed to appear exactly like an original, only these were far more impressive than any mouth could hold naturally.

            “Well, Joseph,” Anneke sighed, “you know me far too well for your own good. In fact, I may perhaps know just a tiny tidbit of information. It would appear that the Pontiff has grown rather afraid of a certain group of people to the west of us.”

            “The Han?” asked Stewart, readying himself for the news that he’d always wished for.

            Anneke nodded her head. “It would seem that the Indus and the Han have reached a tentative agreement to stop killing each other.”

            “And they’re coming here?” Joseph asked, not knowing what there was of value in this godforsaken place.

            Anneke shrugged and slurped on her wine chalice. “I’m just the messenger. I have no idea what’s actually going on. I’m just a stupid woman after all.”

            Joseph rolled his eyes. “Oh great, not this conversation again.”

            “You have no idea how hard it is to be a woman in power, Joseph. As a male lord you don’t have a steady stream of priests and knights trying to rip your dominion apart. You don’t have to contend with the pretty lord, and the powdered bankers who try to cheat you out of your wealth and land.” Anneke was spewing now, her pent up complaints raging through her. “You don’t have to constantly worry that each time you turn your back someone’s bound to steal your throne.”

            “Every great lord has to contend with such problems, Anneke.”

            Anneke raised an accusing finger to Joseph. “Really, my lord Irving. Is that so? Do you know that if I ever have a son, he is instantly entitled to all my lands and holdings upon birth and hence I would be but a steward protecting his throne.” Anneke quivered. “Thank heavens I don’t have that annoying taste for children that my sisters seem too intent to keep.”

            Stewart leaned forward, looking very interested in the conversation, perhaps too interested for Joseph’s taste. “What exactly are your plans for succession?” he asked, tilting his head slightly in skepticism.

            Anneke laughed lightly though there was no humour in her voice. “My parents had no shortage of children though all girls, thank goodness, lest my throne would be in even deeper jeopardy. My sister Margaret seems to have developed a rather uncanny talent for the production of little heirs, male ones, whom I will have no trouble handing over the crown to when I’m dead and buried, of course.”

            “Of course,” both Joseph and Stewart agreed, simultaneously.

            Anneke looked out her window, her eyes carrying the sad lint of introspection. “What a terrible thing it’ll be when I’m ….” Anneke bowed her head. “Maybe I should have had children. Any wailing prince looking to usurp my throne would be better than those pampered, idiots my doctors pulled out of Margaret. I swear that Godrick, my official heir, has less brains in him than the chickens he stuffs down his thick chops for a snack.” Anneke shuddered again in disgust. “But he carries the name Koch behind him, and though that’s the greatest attribute to his person, it’s enough to have my cushion grace his elephantine ass.”

            Stewart snickered, and Anneke gave him the most perfectly executed, blood curdling stare Joseph had ever seen in his whole entire life. Had he possessed thinner skin, Stewart’s body may have collapsed then and there.

            “Is there something particularly funny about what I said?” Anneke hissed, her words more hideous and reptilian than those of a king cobra.

            Joseph had no intention of being sent out to the streets and so he decided to defuse the situation. “Let’s not be too hasty you two. We have a long day ahead. Anneke, I think it is time your servants showed Stewart and I to our chambers.”

            Anneke bent herself upward from the table very unceremoniously, her dress thoroughly stuffed underneath the wood. “Yes,” she responded, her tone changed by only the most minute of margins. She bellowed outwards to the corridor, “guards! Show our guests their rooms!”

            With that Joseph and Stewart were whisked away into the hallway while Anneke sulked in her the privacy of her chambers. When they were alone Stewart whispered into his brother’s ear, “why did she dismiss us so sternly, Joseph?”

            Joseph thought for a moment and looked down at his feet. “I’ve known Anneke since we were children and never have I seen her so tense.”

            Stewart shrugged. “She’s a woman; the stress of governing no doubt brings about excessive mood swings. That’s exactly why they shouldn’t rule.”

            Joseph was thankful Anneke hadn’t heard that otherwise he would no doubt be sleeping in a monastery the next night. “It’s not that, Stewart. I have the strangest feeling that she’s not letting something on. There is something oddly amiss here and it has to do with the conference tomorrow and the Pontiff calling us here.”

            “You look too far into these things, brother. Rest your mind. The truth is not often buried, but rather in its plain, superficial form. Man invented the fields of philosophy and introspection simply because he couldn’t handle the honest, blunt truth he was confronted with.”

            “What truth is that, Stewart?”

            “We are all born and we all die, and nothing in between matters in the big picture. Now, try and get some sleep. I don’t want the Lords of the East to think that all Acadia can offer are two aching, light headed primitives.”

            “Well said, brother.” Joseph crept to his quarters and folded his rich, linen over him, but he found sleep was not as inviting as he had hoped.