The weather had taken an unexpected turn for the worse. The wind had changed direction in the early hours of the morning and with it had come one of the tropical storms that were not uncommon at certain times of the year. Rain lashed Port Hassau and lightning illuminated the heavy storm clouds that hung ominously over the city.
The assembly had naturally been moved indoors, the throne room of Hassau Palace repurposed to accommodate the visiting CIty Lords. It was a large room on the ground floor of the palace. Floor to ceiling windows with stunning views of the ocean ran the length of one of the long walls whilst banners hung from the rafters. Where previously these had been in the colours of Rollo Hirst and his gang, they now were a mix of black and red, each bearing the Imperial symbol in the inverse colour. Darth Orllah may have been cut off from her Empire, but she was clearly in no rush to relinquish her ties entirely.
The throne sat at the far end of the room on a raised dais made of the same polished white and grey marble of the floor. Ordinarily the hall would be full of rows of chairs and then benches, decreasing in comfort and grandeur the farther back from the throne they went. On that day they had been cleared entirely, leaving the room occupied by only the 6 large chairs for the City Lords, (Drok Vess' empty seat still present as a reminder to all,) and those laid out for their respective entourages.
Miley sat by Orllah's throne, her head resting against her mistress' legs. She was naked but for a pair of black stockings and red-soled heels. Her collar was fitted tightly about her neck, Orllah occasionally tugging playfully on the chain that was looped about her wrist, and a large ball gag was fitted snuggly in her mouth. Her hands and legs were unrestrained, a fact that she was grateful for given what had transpired the night before.
Her eyes travelled over the Lords as the Duke of Averon laboured some irrelevant point over trade tariffs before settling on Jeska's face. The Torgrutan seemed as disinterested in the Duke's point as she was and when she caught Miley looking she winked at her and flashed her a dazzling smile.
Miley smiled inwardly as she thought back to the night before. She hadn't been surprised when she had woken up to find Jeska in bed with her and Orllah. Orllah had pulled her aside after they had had breakfast together and explained that she had negotiated and alliance with the Torgrutan and by extension, the city of Aminax and that Jeska would be spending more time with them if Miley wanted. It had been a brief moment of tenderness from her mistress that Miley hadn't expected and made her love Orllah all the more. In truth, she was excited to spend more time with Jeska and the thought of doing so with Orllah as well sent a little shiver of excitement down her spine.
"And another thing!" the Duke continued, apparently oblivious to the eye-rolling of his fellow Lords. "The trade pact stipulates a percentage of our own incomes be diverted to an account in Hassau city for 'communal funding'! I would very much like to know what you intend to do with these funds that you are attempting to extort from us, Lady Orllah!"
Miley didn't have to look up to know her mistress was scowling. She felt her hands clench, tugging on her collar in a not unpleasant way as she replied in a surprisingly cool tone, "Those funds will be used to improve the roadways between our cities and to pay for security details to escort tradable goods from one city to another."
"As for your concerns over your personal wealth, Duke," she continued, venom now slipping into her voice. "I suggest you worry more about the citizens of Averon who, under your rule, are struggling to feed themselves. It would be a shame to see you replaced by an angry mob..."
The Duke stared at Orllah, his mouth hanging open as he sank back into his chair. A few of the young submissives who fawned at his and his wife's side seemed to pull back from them, their heads turning tot he side as they considered the possibility of Orllah's words.
Vale lent back in his chair with a low whistle. The self-styled Smuggler King seemed to be having the time of his life at the Assembly, Miley thought. He waved the data pad on which was written the Pact Imperius, a sort of treaty that Orllah had constructed to bring the City States to heel under one unified rule of law.
"This is pretty damn impressive," Vale conceded. "Wasn't sure what to expect from you after yesterday, but this..." he shrugged. "We get to keep control of our cities and we don't lose any profits... Well, most of us don't," he said with a sideways glance at the Duke.
"I'm glad you approve," Orllah replied. "I am not stupid. I know each of you have roles that could prove vital in the new order of things. I am not here to rule as a tyrant."
"But tariffs! Really?" the Duke spluttered.
"Averon is the wealthiest City on the planet, Duke," Orllah hissed. "Yet your people live in squalor compared to our own. If you want the protection and benefits afforded to you and your people by the Pact Imperius, you will agree to its stipulations. That means treating your people with dignity and yes, contributing to the throne."
"I dunno what you're worried about, your Dukeness," Vale tittered. "You'll still be the richest one of the lot us! Even if you do have to share it with the old hag next to you!"
The Duchess gasped whilst the Duke adopted an expression of outrage that probably wasn't entirely truthful. Vale and his smugglers simply laughed and shook their heads.
"Lady Na has already signed the Pact," Orllah said loudly before another argument could break out. "Who else will join us?"
A dozen eyes darted to Jeska who simply smiled and bowed her head at Orllah. After a while Vale stood. "I'm getting paid to do what I'm already doing," he declared. "Seems a good deal to me. I'm in."
