[ And now they end up in an office. Even with differing cultural mores and standards, it is possible to recognize this office as absurdly tasteful: solemn without being boring, sleek without being ostentatious. The man leaning against the desk is the same way: a hook-nosed man, recognizably from the same genetic stock as Byerly, with solemn gray eyes and narrowly handsome face. His face is utterly and completely unreadable. Next to him is a woman with black hair streaked with gray, older than the man by a generation but still absurdly beautiful. And sitting before both of them, his posture uncomfortable and his smile looking a little choked and constipated, is a clean-shaven Byerly. Not recognizably younger; this memory is recent.
"So this was all about family loyalty, then?" the woman is saying.
"Imperial loyalty, Lady Alys, sire," By answers. The answer doesn't have much of his normal smarm; he's visibly unnerved by these two. Or, more accurately, by the man; his eyes keep darting over nervously towards the hook-nosed man. "You know well that the Council is better off for not having Richars in it."
By their faces, they don't disagree. But nor do they agree. Instead, the Emperor says, his voice controlled and level, "As a civilian, you were not bound by the oaths that would have constrained a more...traditional member of ImpSec. But We remind you that discipline is expect of all who serve Us. Take care that your personal ambitions do not exceed your will to serve."
"Hardly ambitions," Byerly protests at once, sounding uncharacteristically sincere.
A beat as the Emperor surveys his subject. "Your hatred, then," he says, which shuts the Byerly of memory right up.
The real Byerly stands there, looking similarly subdued and similarly stressed. His eyes dart between the trio and Richie, trying to discern how much of this conversation he's understanding, trying to figure out how much damage control he's going to need to do here. ]
why is that even a question
"So this was all about family loyalty, then?" the woman is saying.
"Imperial loyalty, Lady Alys, sire," By answers. The answer doesn't have much of his normal smarm; he's visibly unnerved by these two. Or, more accurately, by the man; his eyes keep darting over nervously towards the hook-nosed man. "You know well that the Council is better off for not having Richars in it."
By their faces, they don't disagree. But nor do they agree. Instead, the Emperor says, his voice controlled and level, "As a civilian, you were not bound by the oaths that would have constrained a more...traditional member of ImpSec. But We remind you that discipline is expect of all who serve Us. Take care that your personal ambitions do not exceed your will to serve."
"Hardly ambitions," Byerly protests at once, sounding uncharacteristically sincere.
A beat as the Emperor surveys his subject. "Your hatred, then," he says, which shuts the Byerly of memory right up.
The real Byerly stands there, looking similarly subdued and similarly stressed. His eyes dart between the trio and Richie, trying to discern how much of this conversation he's understanding, trying to figure out how much damage control he's going to need to do here. ]