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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

[priorly]

[Prior nods along with the expression of a parent watching the middle school brass section murder Moonlight Serenade.]

Nearly got executed. Your culture being what it is, was that cause for a good report card home, or a must try harder?

[vorrutyer]

[ A grin as By bows Miles into his chair, indicating that it's time to eat. Good heavens, what a delight. Prior tormenting Miles Vorkosigan. He doesn't know what he did to deserve a treat of this magnitude. ]

[dendarii]

[ Miles flushes a bit at that non-response. ]

You’ve missed the part where I talked my way into taking over a fleet of 2000 people.

[priorly]

[Prior puts a hand to the side of his mouth and whispers to Byerly at roughly the level of his normal speaking voice.]

I'm still not sure if I scold or praise.

[vorrutyer]

[ In a stage-whisper back - ]

Better to praise. He gets quite agitated and hyperactive otherwise.

[dendarii]

-- Don't treat me like a child! You asked for this information.

[priorly]

[A slow look to Byerly, and Prior mouths I see what you mean.

But it's a little unfair, and he isn't cruel by nature, so this specific line of teasing needn't drag out further. He did ask.]

And you told me what you do when you're at home is kidnap personal navies and almost die. Context, mon ange. Was this an act of war?

[vorrutyer]

On good taste and good sense, belike. [ There's a mocking hint of the Dendarii hill accent - the accent of Miles' insane berserker subjects - in By's voice when he says that. ] Come and eat your groats, sire.

[dendarii]

[ Ugh, Byerly. You're not allowed to use that accent. He shoots his cousin a glare even as he moves to dig into his bowl. ]

Of course it wasn't an act of war. I'd recently failed out of the service academy, so I decided to do something blatantly stupid instead. Ended up with a ship that ran a blockade, got caught, and kept talking my way upwards instead. Purely unrelated to anything I do at home, I suppose, due to the fact I'd failed at what I was supposed to be at home. Which was a soldier.

[ A statement his parents - and his older self - would disagree with. But Miles is eighteen, and still focused on how much his small self can do for Barrayar in a military sense. ]

[priorly]

[Groats really do look so unappealing, particularly at breakfast. Miles' cereal gets a withering look, Miles something more considered.]

Couldn't succeed as one man in the service of your nation, so you took over the command of two thousand. Well, I agree, that failure sounds abject.

[vorrutyer]

[ By sits down at his own bowl of groats. ]

Well. Whether or not it's a failure, it is still treasonous.

[dendarii]

Only on a technicality. Hence the near execution. [ A beat. ] I suppose the Dendarii are technically mine now, being the Emperor's Own.

[priorly]

[Well, this just got past the possibility of being able to follow.]

I'm beginning to see how Byerly feels when I describe my mood using episode titles of Sally Jessy Raphael.

[vorrutyer]

[ Fondly: ]

Revenge.

The Emperor's Own means that they're a force sworn to the Emperor.

[dendarii]

[ Oh. Miles makes an apologetic face. ]

And Counts - or Count's heirs, which I was at the time - are not permitted to gather potential armies, even when they have no intention of using them anywhere near Barrayar. The traditional remedy is tying down the offender in the square to die of exposure.

[vorrutyer]

[ That earns a little laugh. ]

Good heavens, is it really? Ah, our blessed homeland.

[priorly]

On each page of the tourist brochure, a new delight. The local square, though. How social.

[Byerly has shared enough stories to more or less cauterize Prior's ability to be shocked by most of what Barrayar has to offer. It's in his mind like a grim little fairytale, somewhere the wolves wait in the woods and grandmothers fence their houses with bones.]

Though I can understand being twitchy about keeping the relatives in line. Oaths can't work for everyone.

[dendarii]

[ That's not so far from the truth, anyway. Barrayar is a harsh place by any measure. ]

Mm, well. In theory a Barrayaran's word is legally binding. In practice ... it's as you say. We are human in the end. And Gregor had every right to execute me if he truly thought I was trying to claim power from him.

[vorrutyer]

What Miles isn't telling you in discussion of the mortal peril he was in is that Gregor is essentially his brother.

[dendarii]

[ Miles twitches a bit at that implication. He loves Gregor with all his heart, truly. But. ]

He was also newly coronated. Facing his first decision truly independent of my father. It could have swung either way.

[priorly]

[Prior's been nodding along to this, adding offhand.] Still, he doesn't really seem the fratricidal type. So. You have the qualification, and after two thousand men, this [Hi Byerly] must be a step down. There won't be any town square demonstrations here, I assume, even for the warm comfort of tradition.

[vorrutyer]

[ Mildly: ]

Unless I lead an insurrection. Although in that case - the tradition would be dismemberment instead.

[dendarii]

Just so. I would expect nothing less.

[ Said utterly deadpan. No indication whatsoever that he's joking. ]

[priorly]

Mm. [He's not actually taken in, but nontheless:] Did Byerly tell you I'm a queen?

[This is delivered equally without indication that it shouldn't be taken seriously.]

[vorrutyer]

Heavens.

[ He claps a hand to his chest. ]

I just realized - I'm the only non-royalty in the house.