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[vorrutyer]

[ Unlike any of Byerly’s previous posts, which consisted of him monologuing interminably, this post looks to be a dialogue. There are actually two people on screen - Byerly’s lanky, elegant, sloe-eyed self, and next to him a small odd-looking fellow with intense features and a too-large head set on a hunched spine. For all the differences between them, though, the two look like they could be brothers, or at least cousins - similar noses, similar bone structure, similar skin tone, similar hair color. Ah, the products of Barrayaran inbreeding.

You can tell who set up the camera by the framing. Byerly is centered, and sitting at an angle that best shows off his fine features. Miles Vorkosigan, the small fellow, is squished off into a corner of the frame. By is the first to speak, too. ]

Bonsoir, lovely fellows and ladies. Your bosom friend and brother Byerly here with an important announcement. Though you have known me as His Imperial Majesty Byerly II of Barrayar, now I’m just plain By, because my position has been usurped. [ A fake mournful sigh. ] Brutal civil war. Deadly. Horrible. I’ve been dealt a monstrous blow.

[ Miles, meanwhile, just kind of rolls his eyes skyward. Spare him from his cousin’s melodrama. ] If by “usurped” you mean “assumed rightful authority,” then yes. I usurped you. With little resistance, I might add. [ A pause; he straightens his small frame as best he can - not that it’s especially effective given the camera angle. ] Did you really go around calling yourself His Imperial Majesty Byerly II?

But of course. [ Byerly blinks in mock-innocence. ] Sire, don’t tell me that you don’t see the Imperial office as worthy of respect. I was simply demanding the dignity due to the camp stool.

Is it more dignified to lose it to a civil war too? [ Miles arches a brow in turn. ] I could fight you, I suppose.

Oh, please don’t do that, sire. [ By’s expression is a reasonable approximation of pained. ] I don’t want to hurt you. He’s very fragile, you see. [ The last is said conspiratorially to the audience, as though Miles couldn’t hear. And, swiftly, before he can be executed for treason - ] So I wished to introduce my dear sometime-cousin and current-overlord to the network, as a grand announcement of an enormous life change, and an announcement that I will of course be hosting a coronation party for him.

-- What?

[ There’s not even the slightest twinkle of amusement in Byerly’s face; he looks perfectly solemn as he explains - ]

It is, of course, customary for those invited to a coronation to bring gifts of tribute. I would not presume to speak for my lord Emperor, but I might suggest gifts of alcohol. Or something a little harder than alcohol? A fellow does grow tired of only being drunk, and the Emperor is quite a fan of stimulants, which is why you’ll hear him babble endlessly, all the time. Would that suit you, sire?

[ Miles has been working his mouth like a frog in the background this whole time; he still sputters a moment, staring at Byerly in disbelief. ] I never agreed to a party, By -- [ He interrupts himself with a beautiful stream of cursing in Greek. ] For god’s sake, that won’t be necessary.

[ Loudly, speaking over his Emperor - ] That sounds like a yes to me! I’ll see you all tomorrow night. [ And with a wink, he cuts the feed. ]


[ ooc: blue is Byerly, red is Miles ]

Comments

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[tourism]

[Quite cheerily]

Hallo, another one? Does he assault people in cupboards too?

[dendarii]

... Who's assaulting people in cupboards? Byerly?

[tourism]

Oh yes, constantly. He's terrible for it. I told him it's not how an Emperor behaves, not any I've met anyway, but it's how he introduces himself, I think.

[dendarii]

I -

[ He can't parse what's going on here. ]

Has he done this to you, then?

[tourism]

Most viciously. The memory shall live with me an awfully long time, and not in a fond sort of way.

Anyway, do both of you realise he never told anyone your name? He told people his name twice.

[dendarii]

[ He just shakes his head a bit at that. Closets, god. he needs to get that story someday. ]

I had noticed that. Alas, he's very distracting.

[ A quick bow. ]

I am Miles Naismith Vorkosigan. Well met.

[tourism]

Don't tell him that, you'll encourage him.

[Bowing to a screen. Well, that's formality Monty hasn't encountered in a while but very well, he offers a little flourish in return.]

Monty. Can I come to the party? I'm sure I can find you any number of better distractions.

[dendarii]

[ It's instinctive at this point for Miles; his world marries old traditions with new tech already. ]

If you like, although alcohol will be quite enough.

[tourism]

Then I'll endeavor to bring some, although I can't very well leave my face at home so other distractions will be present.

[He perches on the edge of the table, the camera waving wildly as he moves. Still not fully used to technology of any sort, at this end, but he enjoys it enough to keep trying.]

You're both from the same angry space planet, then? Are you actually the emperor?

[dendarii]

[ His face? Miles doesn't quite follow, but - he'll answer the question first. ]

No. I've also inherited the position given the lack of the actual heirs. But I am much, much closer than Byerly here. Third in line, after my father and the current Emperor.

[tourism]

Oh, so a prince or sorts. Or duke? I confess I tend to forget my own title much less spend time keeping track of others. And there doesn't seem much point in cleaving to any of them, here.

[Despite the fanfare of this post, and the few other royal families clinging to old ways in a new place.]

I can't think of much worse, if I'm honest. Except perhaps having to be the ruler of a people who were actually awake.

[dendarii]

We've no princes, precisely. I'm a Count's heir - and a High Vor.

[ Look, it's just a thing. He couldn't stop being Vor even if he wanted to. ]

I know it doesn't mean much here.

[tourism]

Does it mean your cousin has to bow as you pass?

video;

[vorrutyer]

Another one?

[ By looks rather put out. ]

Another what? Vorkosigan is an entirely different breed from me.

[tourism]

Well another Emperor obviously. Though now that you've said it, it does look rather like someone opened you up and there was a smaller one inside.

[vorrutyer]

He's taken the title from me. I'm Emperor no longer.

[ And, a little irritably - ]

And yes, I suppose he does look like a gallbladder or something of the sort. Though that's where the resemblance ends.

[tourism]

No, more like one of those sets of dolls. You're quite alike.

So do I outrank you now? As a foreign dignitary, I mean.

[vorrutyer]

That depends. What was your rank again? Some sort of merchant's son, right...?

[tourism]

[No one's son anymore, thank you. Only a small flinch.]

Probably King, the way you people arrange it. I was in line anyway, and so far as I know there's no one else awake.

Actually, doesn't that make most of us Kings? At least one person from every world must be the current first in line of succession, so almost everyone should be royalty. Except you, now. You might be the only peasant.

[vorrutyer]

Hah.

[ By, to his credit, actually looks quite amused by the notion. ]

And so I might. Perhaps I ought to establish a homestead. Go and till the land. Say, d'you suppose poppies are hard to grow?

[tourism]

I couldn't say, we never had them on the estate. The kitchen boy told me potatoes are easy, though, and they turn to alcohol. You should start with those.

[vorrutyer]

True enough. I've had some sweet liquor made from potatoes. Lovely stuff. Thick. Would you come and peddle the liquor for me, good fellow?

[tourism]

I'm afraid I can't do anything for you anymore, now you're a serf. I'd be disgracing my nation, you see.

[vorrutyer]

But Your Majesty! My children will starve without your help.

[tourism]

That's quite terrible. You should certainly petition the emperor.