Megan waved in appreciation of the applause as, shadowed by Meredith, they stepped down the stairs to the floor of the large room. The room was not filled to overflowing, by any stretch of the imagination, but Washan in summertime was hot and the candles and lamps that lit the room added to the heat of the pressed bodies, turning it into a sauna. Megan was afraid she could already feel her hairdo wilting.

“Remember, the slave said,” Herzer said, leaning over to whisper in Megan’s ear, “you too are mortal.” He was dressed in the most formal uniform of the UFS, a tight coat worn short, open at the front in deference to the heat, with a blinding white undertunic on which his Eagle hung from a thick scarlet ribbon. The coat was gray, the newly chosen color of the UFS Army uniform, with light blue lining to denote his branch of infantry. The gray pants had a blue stripe down the side as well. It was topped by a light blue beret. The coat was heavy with his medals and qualification badges; two silver eagles to match the gold, the now defunct aurea victorous, wound badges, dragon qualification, maritime aviation badge, air combat medal. Megan had insisted that he wear all of them. There were a few with more medals in the room, the UFS Army was already getting medal happy. But there were none with more medals for valor in combat.

Megan snorted softly and took the first hand that was outstretched to her.

“Duke Okyay, a pleasure to see you this evening…”

Herzer detached himself as soon as Megan began politicking, grabbed a glass of sarsaparilla and a plate of munchies and worked his way over to the corner where Edmund and the Army commander were ensconced.

“Duke Edmund,” he said, pushing past an aide. Most of the flunkies were staying well back from the great men and surreptitiously acting as a filter. The Army commander’s new aide had apparently not recognized the unknown major.