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"I appreciate your congratulations, Frankenstein, but they are early. Nothing's decided yet. For that reason, I ask you not to visit me. If you do, I will call security on you. I cannot risk my intergrity by being seen with you. Surely you understand that."
She received a mere huff in response, though Raskreia assumed that the message was clear. Slowly, she leaned back in her chair, turning around to watch the airborne vehicles race through the artificial sky of the diplomatic wing of the Agora. Sometimes she missed real sunlight, real wind, though she had grown used to the ventilation systems and the artifical day and night cycles by now.
"AH, Frankenstein. There is one more thing."
"Yes?"
"I presume that might interest you. Cadis Etrama di Raizel … has returned."

Silence on the other end of the connection. Surely, Frankenstein must process this information first. So many centuries have passed, so many things had happened... None of them had assumed they would ever see the Noblesse again (actually, she'd presumed he had died. At least after the destruction of earth -).

"Are you sure?", Frankenstein asked and he did not quite succeed hiding his agitation. Raskreia could read people enough by now to catch it in his voice.
"Yes. That is all."

Before he had opportunity for further inquiries, Raskreia canceled the connection and rose from her chair, stepping closer to the large glass front. Several million people in this spacecraft alone, billions in this galaxy – if everything went well, if the polls so far could be trusted, she soon would lead them. So many lives that would look up to her for guidance and leadership. Rational decisions and values they, too, could believe in. To be an elected official was not the same as being a Lord, Her musings were interrupted by the door opening. The woman looked inconspicuous in her dark blue attire, blonde hair swept to the side and back, to keep it out of her face.

"I have arranged the press conference regarding the incidents in the Argos rho Cluster, Lord."
"Councilor," she corrected her calmly. "I am no longer Lord, Edian."
Would Father be proud of her? Would he have wanted her to do this?
He must be. Though she was no longer Lord, she found herself unable to step down from leadership. Maybe this was her true destiny, after all: to lead.

Humanity was amazing, truly. Though Urokai had told him a lot about the Agora, the spacecraft that acted as seat of the galactic government, to see it with his own eyes was another thing entirely. A colossus of steel, platinum, titanium and other metals. Here, they would meet the Lord, though she no longer carried that title. Did Raskreia settle in? How did she bear the burden left to her by her father? Questions he knew he would not ask. Raskreia was an adult now, and from what he gathered, she'd led their people well. If they found happiness, then she must have done everything right. That was all he needed to know, all the Previous Lord would have asked of her.

From his usual position near the rear of the ship, he had a good view on the open space they were leaving behind, approaching the harbour of the Agora, passing vessels of all shapes and sizes. In front of him – behind the ship – metal doors closed. Where were they? After about two minutes, the door to his chosen favourite spot opened. By now, he had grown accustomed to the sound of Urokai's steps.

"Sir Raizel. We are in the airlock of the Agora now. We will be ready to get off board in about five minutes. The Lo- The Councilwoman expects us in her offices in half an hour. After that, we got most of the day on here. Unless another mission comes up. I heard they are close to tracking down Gradeus."

Urokai and Zarga were both wearing their uniforms, sleek black, with shining badges on their chests. Raizel had changed into a simple black uniform as well, without badge to call his own. They did not seem to mind.
Upon stepping out of the ships and unto the docks, Raizel was flooded with sensations all at once – sounds, light, scent. The space harbour was so incredibly busy. Machines carried crates of equipment and goods, humans passed between them, some of them not quite entirely human. "Impressive, isn't it?" Urokai grinned and almost placed a hand on Raizel's back – then, just inches away from the dark fabric of his uniform, he refrained from this uncalled-for touch. The Noblesse may no longer be needed in this world... yet he still felt a certain sense of veneration. Maybe adoration, even. Either way, to touch him now would be... inappropriate.

Instead of heading for the long queues of humans waiting to be admitted out of the port, they passed by one of the doors using Urokai's badge as key. Easier identification. A rather bored human officer received them.
"Welcome Officers. Agvain and Siriana. Who is that with you? You know the protocols on bringing people here through military security without authorization."
"For real? Are you going to be all nitpicky about -"
"It's alright, Urokai. Here." Zarga cast the holographic image of a document from his wristcomputer. "An authorisation of the ministry of noble affairs. We're expected."
Tne guard wrinkled his nose slightly, but nodded.
"Alright. Just don't cause any trouble." As they passed through the next door, Raizel could hear the man muttering. Fucking nobles, still think they're better than us.

An artificial lake was the key piece of the governmental district where Raskreia's offices were located. From the broad window front in her office, she had a splendid view on the lake and the people who took leisure strolls along the promenades. Mostly diplomats and high government officials. An old clock was ticking on one of the cupboards, a replica, but the incessant tic-tac gave her a certain sense of stability. Time passes, slowly, at a constant pace. As long as she walked forward at the same pace – tic, tac, tap tap.

Slowly, she turned around to the three nobles in front of her. Raizel has been quiet the whole time. Urokai, respectful for once, had fallen silent too, though his foot tapped against the floor nervously. Buzzing with energy, as always.

"The Previous Lord would have been proud of you," the Noblesse finally said, his voice felt off. He was part of this world they all left behind. "You lead the nobles well."
"I know," Raskreia replied after a few moments of thought. Once upon another time, many centuries ago, his words would have meant much to her. Once, she was insecure, struggling, lonely. Betrayed by the family leaders, left alone in this ever-changing world. However, just as father had wanted her to, she learned to play the game, learned to follow the currents of time instead of opposing it. She no longer needed the approval of a relic.
For a moment, Raizel seemed genuinely caught off-guard and Raskreia's facial expression softened slighty. "I still appreciate hearing it from you."

Zarga was glad when their appointment (just a single hour!) was finally over. The silence was beyond awkward, not natural. Maybe because he forgot what it was like to have Urokai just shut up for half an hour. What was going on in Sir Raizel's mind? How did he feel about all of this? Was it overwhelming? Did it matter to him at all? Maybe he would never know.
When central headquarters called them in, he was almost relieved – though Urokai was reluctant to leave Raizel alone. It was alright, though. They had given him a spare wristcomputer, showed him how to contact them, if anything. Besides, they could just track him later, if necessary.

Maybe it would do him good, getting to spend some time on his own. Explore the perimeters. Sir Raizel was not a lost child, after all.

The warrens of the Agora were far from shiny and beautiful. Here, in one of the outer wings of the station, a small port blocked off from the rest of the spaceship, all kinds of people could be found – many of them refugees, immigrants hoping to be admitted to live on the Agora one day as citizens, others, like him, simply had no hopes of receiving a landing permit on the main station. Here, where the most desolate lived, the glamour of the new age faded. Humans would always remain the same, Frankenstein realized. Some would always try to be on top of all others, push and kick down to make sure others would not rise to their levels. He was too old to be bitter about it, too tired to be angry, too far away from it all to truly care. Once, he thought he could make a change. He even thought that maybe the nobles, the werewolves, the union, anyone, could change the way of this world. More than two thousand years later, he now understood how naive he has been. Humans never change.
Resistance was futile – just as paper, books, bills and coins all disappeared from this world, so did many other things. Frankenstein had learned to accept it. However, one thing he could not process: the return of a relic greater than clocks and printers. A sacrosanct halidom had returned to his universe. How could Raskreia ever be as cruel as to let him know? That woman could have left him in blissed ignorance, let him beleave that he was gone forever, dead and gone with the world they once knew. No. Instead, she had to tell him. Instead, she must cast him down into that pit of despair and hollowness he'd left behind with so much struggle.

Should he look for him? Should he try to find his old master? Would it make any difference, though? At this moment, Frankenstein couldn't tell. Torn between a wild need to see him again and the dread at the mere thought of what it might do to him, he wanted to do nothing at all.

However, fate was not kind to him, it never was. Though he was not ready to go out and find him, he'd come to him first. For the first time in far more than a thousand years, Frankenstein could feel it again. The slumbering connection reawakening, his presence almost overwhelmed him.
Frankenstein hurried through the alleys of the warrens, past groups of people, until, finally, near the entrance to the main station, he saw him.

The image of his face, imprinted in his memory forever, refreshed, painted again in fresh, vibrant colors.

"Frankenstein."