Planet Olympia - am I letting the name influence me? - truly reminds me of the mythical Mount Olympus you told me about when I was little. Intrigue and power- games abound. My new husband is the firebolt-hurling Zeus, while his first wife fits the slippers of the scorned Hera. I'm not sure what role I'm supposed to play in that metaphor, I, the newcomer of whom everybody is curious yet whom nobody approaches for fear of aligning with the wrong faction.
For factions I do see here, as obvious as I see Olympia's two dying suns. There is the Prince: a ladies' man and a seducer. He has most of the female court wrapped tightly around his little finger (or around his big tool, as rumour would have it). He is the logical heir to the throne, although the way politics work in this place, the Vizier who commands the armies might have a claim to at least half the kingdom should he lead the nation into a successful war.
peaking of war... no, better not. Not until I have the facts. Such matters are too important to gossip about.
I shall write again when I find my footing. You know I'm no fool, my beloved father, so fear not. The First Queen is treating me with politeness and she ordered my quarters in a far-away wing of the castle to preserve my privacy. Also, she was kind enough to allow me to use her login to write to you and to receive your replies via e-post.
Your devoted servant,
Princess of Crett, Second Queen of Olympia
In her cold bedroom chamber, Atana re-read her letter, then pressed the send button on her console. The electronic link between Olympia and her treasured Crett was fairly reliable - her father should receive the message when he awakened. Starship post would have taken weeks.
"Are you quite finished, my dear?" The King's voice was soft, but it echoed like thunder in the almost-empty chamber.
Atana's heart thudded, but she managed to control her voice. "Yes, Sire."
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