The War of Large Furry Bosoms
18 Apr 2021Tharik Otoli
The Adventures of Prince Tharik Otoli: Space PirateFollow this link for the full anthology!
THE CRIMSON BRASSARD
FLAMMARION TERMINAL
DAIBAIS A 4
DAIBAIS
"Heavy is the head that wears the crown," an ancient saying and certainly an anachronism in the 34th century as most leaders do not wear crowns, with some notable exceptions. However, there are those uncommonly shrewd and artful dictators who do manage the spectacular feat of maintaining their elevated position in society and yet absolve themselves of most all the responsibilities of state.
On a fairly irrelevant mining colony, on the edge of Princess Aisling's space, we find Flammarion Terminal. On the main concourse, among the many bustling shops and eateries, one may notice two very large double doors made of fine Lavian Darkwood, each door flanked by indomitable Hattori Clan guards, and a neon sign hung above them reading, The Crimson Brassard, Bar and Restaurant.
If you were allowed to enter the fine establishment this eve, you would find many more of those same guards posted throughout and a singular table occupied by two men and two women clad in Imperial splendor. It is here that we join the tale of one such surprisingly shrewd man.
Prince Tharik Otoli, the Viceroy of Daibais, sat aside his wife, Lady Electra Otoli of the displaced Synteini Imperial Society. He was dressed in the black and silver uniform of his Imperial Corsairs. A variety of medals were affixed to his jacket to include the newly awarded Legion of Honor - presented to Tharik in a recent ceremony by Grand Vizier Bill Boards, the now de facto leader of the Imperial Corsairs. He carefully sliced a small morsel from a painstakingly prepared cut of steak and placed it into his mouth, chewing slowly.
"So then your Excellency, how does it feel to be a Constitutional Monarch? What are your plans going forward," asked the man opposite Tharik, Quartermaster Lord Monnkay Nots, Glorious Diplomat-General of the Imperial Corsairs, who was similarly attired in the ornate, black, military dress uniform of their faction.
Tharik smiled as he swallowed the delicious animal flesh, "Rather good in fact. I am certainly glad to be free of dealing with the witless, swaggering fools of emissaries employed by some of our enemies." Slight laughter followed, some of it uncomfortable as Lord Not's arm rested in a sling, healing from a wound incurred during a recent diplomatic misadventure. Tharik grimaced and did his best to change the subject, "As for my plans going forward, perhaps I shall run for Senate!" Howls of glee filled the restaurant, certainly the idea was preposterous. Just then, a dataslate tossed aside on the table beeped. Tharik reached for it and then immediately withdrew his hand when faced with an icy rebuke on the face of his wife.
"The war goes rather well..." stated Lord High Captain Baroness Galacius, premier diplomat as well as warlord, who was seated opposite Electra. She was clad in her dress uniform, adorned with quite a few medals of her own.
Electra was draped in a elegant black evening gown, matching the colors of her company. She immediately perked up, clearly completely blindsided, "War? What war? Tharik, you haven't told me about any war! What have you done?"
"Well to be fair, my lady, it is not a very good war. It's quite boring and rather petty," came a consoling reply from Lord Nots.
Electra raised an eyebrow briefly regarding the Diplomat-General and then turned her attention right back to her husband, "What happened? How did it start?" The dataslate continued to beep as Tharik did his very best to ignore it, he would be a fool to check the device during a dinner out.
Tharik gingerly offered, "Well my love, its a bit silly. You see, I was hunting Furries on that rather well-known Imperial game world - I can't recall the name - with some former associates."
"A Furry? What in the Galaxy in a Furry," questioned Electra having never heard the word before.
Captain Galacious reached for a bottle of Saxon Wine resting on the table, "I can answer that my lady." She paused briefly, refilling Electra's drink, "A Furry you see, is a very odd beast, think of a cross between a Hominid and a Feline and about the same height of a human being. It walks upright as we do..." Once again the dataslate beeped and Tharik pushed it further from him, eyeing his wife as he did so.
Electra replied, "I see. Are they intelligent?"
Lord Nots sipped from his glass of wine and smiled, "Certainly not my lady, they are beasts." Electra nodded and expressed her desire to know more about the bizarre animals. The Diplomat-General was happy to indulge her further, "They are actually prized game animals and for a very unique reason. You see, the females, and even some of the males - as their sexes are somewhat fluid and not simply dimorphic - have extremely large mammary glands, which, upon death, when a cocktail of bio-chemical substances are released throughout the body, produce the most incredibly tasting, immensely sweet milk, arguably in the entirety of the galaxy." He paused briefly, cutting a fresh piece of steak from his own plate, "Not to mention, the meat is rather tasty as well."
Electra was stunned, "You kill these beasts and then milk them?"
"Correct, m'lady," replied Lord Nots.
Electra was still confused and her question remained unanswered, "But how did THAT start a war?" The dataslate continued it's incessant whines, almost certainly some urgent matter needed to be attended to.
Tharik now realized he had dug himself into quite a mess and would hear about this from his wife following the dinner, "Well, you see my love, during the hunt, after a kill, I made it known that I am friendly with the Imperator Hadrian Augustus Duval, who happens to be enemies of one faction whose leader was in attendance." Tharik made note of the look of disappointment on the face of his wife and reluctantly continued, "Additionally, I may have mentioned how proud I am of the Corsair's success, thereby offending another leader of a different faction."
Electra sighed deeply, "So while lording over a dead Furry with large breasts, a disagreement led to war over the fragile ego of a head of state and individual personal gripes?"
"Yes! Precisely my Lady! You've got it in a nutshell," cried Captain Galacius, who immediately regretted speaking.
An angry glower appeared on Electra's face, "That is absurd."
Lord Nots motioned toward a waiter and made a yet another valiant attempt to change the topic, "Indeed. How is your steak my lady?"
Electra looked down at her plate, considered the entirety of the conversation, placed down her fork and knife and waved for a menu.
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