When the time expired for offworlders to leave Centauri holdings, the reports of lynchings and extremist violence increased, rather than dissipating. Wesa's Ministry of Defense seemed disinclined to pursue the matter very far, however, since it was otherwise occupied on several fronts, and Wesa conveniently glossed over the lynchings in his weekly reports, underreporting the amount of aliens unlawfully killed specifically because it would highlight the Ministry of Defense's inability to extradite the offworlders before the deadline expired. Although he assured the Emperor that the Ministry was searching for the guilty parties, in truth, the Ministry was allowing vigilantes to inflict the new execution law without trial or judgment as a time-saving measure.

In the late evenings, Londo would stare desolately at the stacks of reports on his desk, and Vir noticed the vacant look of deep thought upon his face. Hunched slightly, Vir quietly entered Londo's office, gathering the papers the Emperor had signed for the ministries. Vir had been aghast at Londo's orders on the expulsion and execution of aliens, the abrogation of international law, and his cold words withholding assistance for the humans on the Drakh plague. He had seen Londo do dark things before, but this seemed too far for even Londo, and Vir could barely stomach watching Londo allow such things. His behavior was bordering on actions Vir would have sooner attributed to Cartagia than Londo, and there was nothing Vir could do but watch. Londo's actions made Vir both desperately unhappy and deeply angry. He found hope only in those late nights, when Londo would stare wordlessly out the window or into the stack of papers on his desk, as if he recognized the depravity of his actions and he solemnly considered their repercussions. Yet nothing changed, and each morning brought new orders from Londo reaffirming the trajectory of his reign would be closer to Cartagia than Turhan.

This ritual was repeated every night, endlessly, until finally, one evening, Londo's voice stopped Vir in his tracks.

"Vir," Londo waved him over.

"Yes, Your Majesty?" Vir turned slowly, a stack of correspondence in his hands.

At the salutation, Londo snorted as he took the official Centauri Republic seal from around his neck and deposited it on his desk. "Have a drink with me, Vir. Not with the Emperor – with me, your friend."

"Uh," Vir stammered, not meeting Londo's eyes.

Londo buzzed Dunseny who arrived within moments, bearing two drinks on a serving platter, clearly instructed in advance by Londo.

"Here," Londo took the drinks and offered one to Vir, and Dunseny disappeared again.

"I – I don't know if you remember, Londo, but I don't really drink. I – I don't enjoy it."

"Take it," Londo delivered a pinkish drink into Vir's hand. "It's your favorite – a Shirley Temple, eh? I haven't forgotten."

Londo watched Vir avoid his eyes for a few moments before he added. "I can't force you to drink with me."

Vir looked at the ground. "Actually," he mumbled, "you can force me. I guess that is one perk of being emperor," Vir offered a weak laugh.

Londo's shoulders sagged and his brow furrowed. "I just wanted to enjoy a drink with you, Vir, like the old days on the station." He patted Vir's shoulder with feigned energy. "But ehm," Londo's eyes fell as he eyed his brivari, "if you must attend to your duties, then . . . " he waved Vir away.

Cotto felt the conflict within his chest. Londo's recent behavior had been wretched, but Vir saw Londo's naked sadness stretching into the silence between them, and Vir remembered what it had been like on the station, how Londo had needed him, how he had acted as Londo's conscience when Londo most needed it. Vir buried the anger and frustration created in his short time at the palace, seeing once again the pain so clearly evident on his friend's face.

Vir offered a weak smile and took a chair nearby, sipping his Shirley Temple as he watched Londo closely.

Londo also nursed his drink slowly, a mantle of melancholy descending over his shoulders. Silence stretched on until Londo quietly said, "I miss it - the station."

The mention of the station made all Vir's questions tumble out at once. "Why didn't you try harder?" He turned to Londo earnestly. "Why didn't you do something - to convince Sheridan? Surely there was more to be done to show him that we didn't have anything to do with the bombing on Babylon 5?"

"You must pick your battles, Vir. The ones you can win," Londo said quietly. "We had no chance of convincing them. Only of protecting ourselves."

"Then the order on aliens . . . ."

"Was necessary," Londo cut him off sharply. "I have done what I can to ensure the safety of aliens living here legally. As long as they have valid slave papers, they will be spared execution and returned to their owner. "Speaking of which, I have a matter of urgent business that I yet need you to do for me.""

"But Londo," Vir's voice grew stronger, "I want to talk to you about . . . ."

"It will have to wait," Londo replied, cutting off Vir's protest.

Finally, Vir fell silent, anger and frustration burning in his chest.

"As I was saying," Londo continued, "I have decided that I need a personal representative to monitor the order on aliens - to oversee the Ministry of Defense's progress on such matters."

"Progress?" Vir's eyes grew wide, and his chest heaved at Londo's actions. Of all things, for Londo to ask him to be his liaison to oversee the pogrom to round up and kill aliens - it was too much for Vir to stomach. But just as Vir had mustered up the courage to tell Londo what he thought, Londo silenced him with his words.

"You are the only one I trust to do it, Vir. Now," he said, before Vir could break in, "on a different matter, I need you to take down a letter for me."

"Londo, I just . . . ."

"The letter," Londo growled, his tone dangerously menacing.

Vir's mouth snapped shut, and he felt sick inside. He put a hand on his chest, trying not to lose the contents of his stomach over what Londo was allowing to be done to innocent aliens and what he was now ordering him to oversee. But as Vir touched his chest, he noticed the dangerous look in Londo's eye, and he gulped, picking up a notepad. His eyes were tearing, but he pushed away the tears with his anger at Londo's actions, once more so inhumane. He would change his mind, Vir thought, he just had to.

"It has been some time," Londo dictated, motioning to Vir to take down the letter, "since your esteemed work abroad, but I have kept it in my mind these many years, and I am asking you to act, now, on behalf of the Centauri Republic."

Vir scribbled madly, trying to keep up with the pace of Londo's dictation.

"Your work is of a delicate sort," Londo continued, "and it calls for the utmost discretion. Unfortunately, it is unlikely that I can find the funds to support your work because of the important needs of the Republic in this, our time of great need. We have a great many enemies, and I must direct the Treasury's spending in regards to our most pressing matters, but we must never forget that which breathes life into the things we hold most dear, such as our heritage and our traditions. Therefore, you will forgive the lack of an official royal commission in this matter, but you will know that I am asking, as a personal favor, for you to continue the work you gave up so many years ago." Londo nodded, as if to himself. "There," he turned to Vir, "do you have it?"

Vir was still choking back his emotion, but he managed to nod once and ask, "And the recipient?"

"Eh," Londo pointed toward the top of the letter. "Abraham Lincolni. I'm sure you can find his address if you search the files. He hasn't been seen for some years, and I suspect he is living off world."

Vir took in a sharp breath. "But Londo, I . . . ."

"Vir," Londo cut him off sharply once again, "It is an important letter. See that it is sent at once. Or do you wish to stand here and argue with me when there is work to be done?"

Vir opened and closed his mouth several times, trying to comprehend what Londo was doing.

"I'll be sure Mr. Lincolni gets it," Vir mumbled at last, folding the letter and tucking it in his pocket. He stole once last glance at Londo, whose arms were clasped behind his back, a stern expression on his face.

Vir's footsteps echoed in the empty palace hallway as he made his way back to his quarters, and he fingered the note. He knew exactly what Londo meant and exactly what Londo wanted, but why he had chosen such an odd way to relay his message and why he did not want to speak of it openly concerned Vir deeply. He wondered if Londo's office had been bugged, and if so, why Londo hadn't simply ordered it cleaned by his security forces. It was all very strange and very troubling, but with the ongoing tensions with the other worlds, perhaps Londo knew something he didn't. Vir made his way back to his quarters, trouble dogging his every step.

"Minister Wesa," Londo waved the robust Minister of Defense into his office. "What do you need at this late hour?"

"A delicate matter, Your Majesty," Wesa arranged himself in one of the chairs facing Londo. "One of my many duties is to receive reports of security threats against the Crown."

Londo grunted, "I am sure there are many."

"Yes, there are always a dozen or so active investigations into threats and the like, but . . . I have stumbled onto something more personal." Wesa watched the Emperor's interest perk up slightly.

"What do you mean, 'personal?'" Londo asked.

"Every month, the same day, same hour, in the waning moon of Trias, the Empress departs from the palace grounds, and she leaves a majority of her security contingent here, at the palace, and her excursions are not marked in her official calendar. For your safety, Your Majesty, I would request that I be allowed to investigate these occurrences in the event that they may pose some threat. They are, at the very least, out of the ordinary."

Londo narrowed his eyes, his voice hardening. "You have been spying on my wife?"

"A part of the job," Wesa smiled. "For your protection, of course. I would be remiss if I did not investigate all security threats. You are familiar with the story of Empress Sandolina?"

Londo pointed a finger at Wesa. "Three centuries have passed since Empress Sandolina's actions, and I am perfectly capable of handling my wife. You, on the other hand, have exceeded your authority. You have no authorization to pursue surveillance of my wife's activities. Now go, before you find yourself in need of employment."

Wesa drew back, "But Majesty, I thought you would want to know . . . ."

"Go," Londo's voice was strained, his anger beginning to vent.

Wesa stood, bowing. "As you wish." He departed abruptly, leaving the Emperor to his thoughts.

Londo stared after the door for some time before he buzzed Emanio. "Get me Phylakios, at once."

Phylakios saluted the Emperor briskly, remembering how poorly his last meeting with the Emperor had gone. He waited stiffly, eyes at attention, his hand resting on his ceremonial coutari.

"Phylakios," Londo stood, circling his desk slowly. "'Every month, in the waning moon of Trias, my wife ignores the security requirements of her office, taking only a few trusted individuals with her."

Phylakios blinked, nodding once to acknowledge the Emperor's words.

"And you," Londo waved at him, "are in charge of her security. It is a breach in protocol, is it not?"

Phylakios cleared his throat, "Ehm, no, Majesty, the Empress has authorized it, and in my opinion, the security arrangements are adequate for the requirements of the excursions. She has all the security needed for such ventures."

"Ohhhh," Londo nodded with feigned approval, "I see. And," he paused, "am I to believe that this little monthly getaway will cause me no embarrassment?"

Phylakios glanced at the Emperor before returning his eyes to the wall, "I cannot say whether such a thing would cause Your Majesty embarrassment."

"Then I will be the judge of that," Londo watched the soldier carefully. "Where is it she goes, Phylakios, with you by her side, hmm?"

Phylakios swallowed hard. "You have given me my command of Her Majesty's safety, Your Majesty, and I intend to fulfill it. I cannot betray Her Majesty's confidence, even to you. It would be a violation of my duty both to you and to her."

Londo waved him toward the door without another glance. "I thought as much," he growled. As Phylakios' footsteps departed, Londo tapped his fingers on his desk before buzzing Emanio again. "Have Illyia, my wife's chief of staff, report to me at once."

Illyia stood nervously fidgeting before the Emperor. Whereas once she had addressed him in her mistress's unguarded tone, Illyia knew better than to repeat the performance now that the man had become Emperor of the entire Republic.

"Every month," he began again, "in the waning moon of Trias, my wife departs these grounds, and you have conveniently left her appointments out of her official calendar. I would know why."

Illyia caught her breath, "Her Majesty did not wish it noted there," she offered, hoping the Emperor would not pursue the matter further.

"Do you know," Londo gestured toward the palace hallways, "that the Minister of Defense, himself, was in here not less than an hour ago telling me that it was a threat to national security? Tell me the details of these appointments."

"I do not think," Illyia gulped, "Her Majesty wishes you to know."

Londo stared at Illyia, anger beginning to drip from his words. "I am sure I can guess where it is that she goes and with whom, but if you wish to spare her the humiliation of a public inquiry, you will tell me now."

Illyia's eyes dropped to the floor, and she told him, her words barely a whisper. "Her Majesty is ill," Illyia said. "She reports to her doctor each month, and she did not wish the matter to become public. Her medicine is refilled at these appointments. You will find it in her vanity. Beyond that, I do not know the particulars, as she keeps the matter even from me."

Londo's anger had drained away, shock evident on his face. When he found his voice again, he said merely, "For now, we will keep this matter between us," and he waived her out.

Londo retrieved his glass, contemplating the wall for an hour as his brivari slowly disappeared. But finally, he pushed himself out of his chair, walking the long hallways to his wife's quarters. As he expected, she was not there, for she had other events on her evening calendar that night, and he entered her bath, opening the vanity. A brief search turned up an empty vial for a potent and addictive opioid, one of a handful of serious, addictive narcotics carefully controlled under the supervision of a physician. The narcotic had a reputation as the drug of choice for the elite who could get their hands on a doctor's prescription, but Londo had known his wife for many years, and it seemed quite out of character for her indulge in sensory altering substances, so he was left with only one conclusion - that Illyia had not been lying, and his wife was suffering from a serious illness. He turned the vial over in his fingers, pondering it before he returned it to its place in the cabinet.