With a heavy sigh, Councillor Trem De Markus walked into the living room in his spacious Lepus Mal apartment. The apartment was empty. He had sent both his wife and mistress to his country estate where there was what passed for a cottage. He considered that after the disaster of the meeting with the ambassadors, that was the safest place for them.

As he stepped in, he came to a complete stop. On the table there was a bottle he recognised. Slowly he turned around, scanning the apartment. Stopping he, bowed to the figure sitting in an armchair.

“You have no need to bow to me Councillor. You are a true patriot. The work you have done and the decisions you have made on behalf of your planet are proof of that.” The Dark Lord smiled. “No matter what Leves and others of his ilk may think.”

Markus was uncertain about the last part, but he followed the rest.

“Thank you, sire.”

“I am sorry that I never got to meet the Dressilers. I think that I would have liked them.”

“I think so too, sire.”

The two exchanged looks. There was a moment of understanding.

 “Of course.” The Dark Lord stood and waved at the bottle. “I believe you enjoyed this with your friend. Take it in his memory.”

Trem De Markus smiled in memory. “It was … different.”

“An acquired taste. Your colleagues await you.” The Dark Lord turned to walk to the entrance.

A question from Markus stopped him. “How will I know?”

The Dark Lord smiled. “At the same time as everyone else on the planet, you will know.”