Loki dismissed the last of her appointments for that morning and watched the woman leave. It appeared the Tailors' Guild was being played for laughs on a business venture yet again. Their Guildmaster bordered on completely incompetent, and somehow she was the one who usually wound up hearing about it. She'd have to tell Lord Mycroft once again that taking blatant advantage of this was indeed a violation of antitrust laws, but then maybe it could wait until tomorrow. She did rather detest his roving eye, and he didn't even offer the courtesy of trying to conceal it. One more matter that she tended to hear about far too much.
Sometimes, I'm not sure whether my job is to help run this city or just know all its little secrets, she thought sardonically, leaning back in her padded wingback chair and suppressing a groan when this caused her to note the crick forming in her neck. Her eyes closed for a moment, and a pale hand tried to work loose the pang there, with a measured degree of success. Some days should really just end before they began. But then, she had not the luxury of making those thoughts into truths, and it was useless to wish it so. Might as well stop lollygagging about and get back to it. Loki's eyes snapped open, and she glanced at the clock on her wall, a rather elegant amalgamation of wrought iron and mother-of-pearl. There was still a bit of time left until the Queen would be expected to preside over Parliament, so she had a few minutes to make ready herself.
Only recently had Loki begun to attend herself, as she was quite certain she was finally of an appropriate age to use the excuse of learning from her mother. The woman resisted the urge to scoff at the mere thought. Oh, she learned, of course, but not in the way anyone thought she was. The Princess was ever a silent observer at the sessions, but she rarely missed a detail. It was a good thing, really, that she no longer had to employ a Guild spy as her proxy- there was so much more information to be gleaned from seeing things in person, with her own eyes.
-=-
Minerva Blackwood, currently occupied in the audience chamber, listened patiently as the scientist tried to explain why, exactly, the Crown should grant him more funding than Marchfield had seen fit to. Admittedly, his project did sound rather interesting, but she had no desire to be stepping on Dr. Vanderbilt's toes, and he likely knew what the chances of success were much more surely than she did. "Thank you for your petition, Mr. Barnes," she began by rote, and even she could hear the fatigue in her voice, which she hurried to mask as well as she was able, "but at this time, I am afraid your request will be denied. The Crown allots a research fund t Marchfield yearly, and whatever Dr. Vanderbilt decides to do with it is his purview. If you truly believe this project has a chance of success, may I suggest you take it up with him personally?"
The man, clearly dismissed, took his leave with a dejected expression, shoulders slumped, though the Queen could not have been happier to see him gone. Not because she disliked anything in particular about him, but because as soon as the grand steam-operated double doors creaked into place behind him, she broke into a coughing fit. It would not have been meet for a subject to see her in such a state, this she was constantly reminded of.
"Your Majesty!" The Queen's eldest bodyguard and attendant, Alia, rushed to her side, but Minerva held the other woman off with the hand not covering her mouth. After several seconds, and still gasping for breath, the monarch straightened in her seat.
"I'll... be all right. Just a little weary is all." Minerva smiled shakily, but Alia's lips pressed into a tight line, and she remained apparently unconvinced.
"The Princess says she may have found a doctor for you to see. One of Amon's people, since you still do not wish to make this public." The slightly-disdaining emphasis on 'Amon's people' was not missed, though the Queen wisely chose not to comment. How exactly her daughter knew who Amon's people were was something she did not quite understand, as she had only ever known the two of them to interact a few times, and nothing beyond the cursory at that, adverse as they both were to idle chatter. But...
"If she believes it will help, do send for this doctor later today... after Parliament." Alia's distaste was not masked this time, and though she would never show it, the Queen could not help but share that frustration. For as long as she'd occupied her throne, David Gilgamesh had been there to challenge her, and the man commanded a forceful charisma of the sort that her own quiet assurance had never been able to match in a public forum. Granted, it had been a bit easier lately, something that Minerva attributed to her increased experience in the political arena, but he was still as staunch an opponent as ever on the things she really cared about. Though they had been free of the Facility for fifty years, magi were still not citizens of Revelation, unable to organize themselves into a Guild because of it. She knew that if they did not have those rights soon, there would be revolution, and while the numbers were small, there was still a reason magi were feared, and the Queen did not want all that blood on her hands.
But, she reflected as she entered the Parliament building flanked by her daughter and her attendant, it seemed that even if she understood this, Gilgamesh did not. Or refused to; either way, the result was the same. The meeting, as usual, had already begun, though it seemed to have become a good deal more heated than usual, which had the Queen casting a worried glance to the floor as she ascended the platform upon which the thrones were located. She took the central one, and Loki the smaller one to her left. The one at her right, she did not even look at. It was too tangible a reminder of the corresponding emptiness inside herself, and twenty years had only done so much to soothe the hurt.
The announcement of their presence was made, but it would only interrupt business for a few moments when everyone present bowed, and then things would resume. From the keen look on Loki's face, her daughter was just as interested to know what was transpiring as the monarch herself.