Sir Roland Fitzroy, half-brother to the eccentric Duke Orlins, had trekked from the location of the docked floating castle at the fallen Legion camp to the entrance to the Strip. Entering the stirp, Roland spotted the Lucky 38 and went to the front door. A Securitron rolled over to him and asked what business had at the Lucky 38, and Rolan explained he was an ambassador for Duke Orlins.
"You check out with the security profiling. The Courier is in the Penthouse suite currently. I will escort you up," the Securitron said, rolling into the Lucky 38 with Roland walking lightly at its back.
When they had reached the Penthouse Suite, the Courier was surprised to see such a well-dressed man standing at the top of the staircase.
"Who are you?" the Courier asked, looking into the man's blue eyes. He was dressed in a suit of Power Armor with a Phoenician purple cape over his shoulders very eclectically. "And what business do you have here?"
"I am Sir Roland Fitzroy, ambassador and half-brother to Duke Orlins," said Roland proudly. "I have come to escort the Courier of the Mojave to my brother's castle for the gala tonight. And you—you are the Courier who I am to fetch. I know of you very well, my friend. According to the rumors, I am not worthy to even touch your shoes, though my knighthood has a prestige of its own."
"You're the Duke's brother?" the Courier asked, looking the man over. He did seem to have a royal quality about himself, so the Courier believed him. "Okay, well, let's get going to this gala before all the good drinks are taken."
"Very charismatic," Roland murmured as he led the Courier out of the Lucky 38.
In the now-grounded floating castle of the eccentric Duke Orlins, servants rushed in preparation for that night's festivities. The Duke was in his chambers with a lovely maiden from his own lands, Lady Annabeth, who was busy readying herself to dress herself in a glorious ball gown. "Darling, how long until the Courier arrives? I would like to meet the man who drove away those nasty cretins from our lands in the East to at least thank him."
"He shall be arriving shortly with Roland Fitzroy, dear Maria," the Duke said, buttoning a blue tunic with golden buttons over a white shirt and putting on a Phoenician purple cape with a symbol of his clan on the back, a large dragon with two heads.
"Why do you place such importance on Roland, Alfons? He is a product of one of your father's affairs," Maria said, as a servant tied her corset tightly around her chest. "In my opinion, the royal family should only include those of pure noble descent and no one else."
"Well, Maria, he is my family one way or another and he is a trusted advisor," the Duke retorted, feeling insulted by his lover's comment against his brother and best friend. "My father was an honorable man, and his children inherited that honor, whether legitimate or not, and Roland is no exception to that. He should be treated with the utmost respect by everyone on this ship as part of my court as well as the next-in-line for the throne."
"I am sorry, my lord," Maria said, closing her eyes for a moment.
"Ah, Maria, there is no need to be sorry! This shall be a marvelous night of feasting and dancing! You shall be the jewel in my crown tonight at the opening of the gala, and the envy in each man's eye will be focused upon you," the Duke said kindly, rubbing his lover's cheek gently.
The Courier marveled at the large castle floating twenty feet above the ground with a marvelous entry stairway leading into the bottom of what seemed to be a large flying saucer. "After you, Courier," Roland said, waving the Courier aboard the large airship. The Courier walked up the stairs into the entrance hall of the large castle, where a chorus of trumpets marked the arrival of the Duke.
A man in a blue tunic with a purple cape appeared at the top of the stairs with a beautiful woman on his arm and walked down the stairs to greet the Courier in the hall. "Hello, my friend! I am Duke Alfons Orlins, one of the Seven Dukes of the Interior, and I cordially accept you into my home, hero of the Wasteland."
"I am glad to be here, Your Highness," the Courier nodded, shaking the Duke's hand. "Who may I ask is this?"
"This is my future wife, Lady Maria," the Duke said, Maria smiling at the Courier happily. "We will serve as your hosts and humble servants for the rest of this. However, I must ask you for a favor when you depart from our ship. We've had some turmoil in our Lands after the fall of the Legion, yet you have had some experience in dealing with Legion, so I thought you would be the one to ask."
"What kind of turmoil?" the Courier asked.
"The ex-members of the Legion are rallying around a new leader named Octavius, who has promised them freedom from the 'tyranny' we provide our people," Alfons said, sighing to the wind. "Our people have started to follow Octavius and we need your expertise in eliminating this threat as well as a few others. You should be a crucial knight in my brother's order after solving our problems."
"Thank you for this honor, Your Majesty," the Courier said, nodding. The four-person group climbed the staircase to take their seats at the ballroom's high table before the rest of the guests could arrive, but Sir Roland Fitzroy seemed to hang toward the back of the group, talking to various other knights.