Working on my next short for my third collection. Successions and coronations should be as boring as possible. Extravagant, sure, but boring. A non-boring succession is called a civil war or revolution.

As I alluded to in the manuscript of The Fallen – now entitled Martian Wonderland – Empress Fussy is retired. A bit curious as to how that happened, I began to make some notes. Those notes are turning into this story. However, who wants to read “boring”? As an old friend gifted me: ”start killing people and blowing shit up.” Okay, I’m pretty good at that. So, this will start tamely, get some foreshadowing going in the next installment, then the blood will start raining. Works for me.

The fundamental tension shall be two-fold: Faustina built her imperium upon military force and the conquest of first the Deep South and later the northeast up to the Northern Federation. Being demi-human, her rule is hands-off (subsidiarity) yet personal. Handing her legal and extra-legal powers to another woman – another older woman in the eyes of many humans – is a provocation. You can read in Ice Inundation Intelligence where Robert talks about factions inside the imperium who want a return to a republic and chafe at being under a family sprinkled with “more human than human.” The succession is when it comes out into the open.

Enjoy my content? Buy me a beer!

Quite the gathering, Empress Faustina Hartmann thought to herself.  At seventy-five years old and finally beginning to feel her age, she knew it was time.  So, having summoned what of her family she could, things were set into motion.

And those still alive, was her next, grim, thought.  I have already outlasted one of my children.  It is an experience I do not care to repeat, but fear I shall.  They all seem reasonably social in the meeting room next door.  But what happens tomorrow is not a surprise to anyone.  I spoke weeks ago with Emperors Seiwa and Leopold, as well as Tsarina Anastasia, about the succession of my imperium.  Leopold was the only one to laugh, but he’s always had a quirky sense of humor.

She took one more look at the family gathering on the screen, and stood.

Of course, all of my demi-human descendents and relatives found out shortly after, and were, perhaps, a bit looser with their words than they should have been.  No matter, as it works in my favor, Faustina thought, moving to the door from her little office to the hall, what with the rumors of discontent from some of my subjects.  I know my replacement gave me a look about those, probably knowing something even I do not.

The empress opened the door.  Of the nearly one hundred there, the demis were instantly silent.  Humans just a moment later.  Everyone drew up and gave a legionary salute:  right arm straight up, palm forward, fingers barely parted.

“Deus vult!” the room shook at their shout.

For once, she returned it properly.  Saying nothing, she moved into the room, family stepping just out of her way, making toward one person.  For a sixty-four-year-old, they looked just over half that many years.

“Kneel,” the empress ordered.  The other did, head down.

“I, Empress Faustina Hartmann, hereby resign that title,” she said in a formal manner, placing her hands on the other’s head.  “All of my authority and command I pass to you.  Stand, Empress Aurelia Hartmann.”

Aurie stood, doing heroic work at keeping a straight face.  Her eyes shone gold to the older woman’s turquoise.

“I accept your authority and command as well as this great burden,” the younger intoned loudly.  “On this world and on worlds without end.  It is our family’s duty to serve our people; I swear I shall not disappoint.”

Even louder than before, the cry of “Deus vult!” shook the walls.  The moment over, the applause and cheers began, with everyone wanting to congratulate the new empress, first.  Her resolve to be stoic for this historic moment shattered when her firstborn, Artor, twenty-six years her junior and towering a head taller, tickled his mom while hugging her.

“You finally get your wish, Mom,” he whispered while she writhed in his grasp, laughing.  Letting go and stepping back, he said a bit louder, “So, congratulations.”

“It might be your path too, my son,” she began with her words before switching to her mind, if you fight for it.

I’m not like you Mom, he replied, sharing her nature.  I take after Cousin Les:  an explorer.

Oh, I though you meant a machine fetishist!

“Anyway,” her son said with an eye roll, turning to his right and waving another cousin forward, “we all know who’s next in line.”

“Now, see here!” Faustina’s son, Edward said, with his lovely wife, Livia, on his arm, “I have zero political interest outside of our little patch in Texas…”

“I,” Artor interrupted him, “Was talking about your grandson.”

Would you please shut him up, Aurelia?  Edward fumed at the new empress.  This will set back our careful engagement with Texas a generation!

I just did, with a look of disapproval to her son, but he’s right.  Your grandson Allen is perfect for the role:  younger, demi, male – for once! – and currently a centurion in the legions.  I’ll make him a legate for my next campaign to see if he’s got it in him.

“What is everyone here up to with these shifty glances?” Livia demanded, never thrilled to be the left-out human.

“I’ll tell you later, most loved wife,” Ed said with a kiss to her brow.  “We’re holding up the congratulations, so let’s get out of the way.”

Not happy to be put off like that, Aurie watched them move off.  Another sharp look to her son, who was laughing at her, and she smiled at the next two.  Her nephew, Lem, held his wife’s right hand; next to him, the new empress’ cousin, Ildi, held her husband’s left.  But both of them held the other’s.

To say inseparable would be trite, Aurelia thought, recalling when they had been accidently merged into one person when trying to cure Lem’s degenerative nerve disease while at that experimental Chinese fusion reactor.  Still, they managed to restart their own lives once separated, but shared something that not even a mother and child did.

Ildi, she thought to her once close enough to smell her, you’re pregnant again!  You take after your mother’s rabbit breeding nature.

“Is there something about being a sovereign,” Ildi replied aloud, “that makes people rude?”

From far across the room, they heard Faustina shout, “Hey!”