You are Tyson, son of a long line those who had dedicated their life to maintaining imperial shrines. Recently, your families fortunes have gone rather downhill, as the number of worshippers has significantly decreased, and so has your families income. Still, you have faith that things will improve. You just need to keep faith in the Emperor and things will get better.
A New cute girl joins your Highschool class one day, she's a little odd, but very nice. Says her names Zerayah, which had become really popular when Cain named his daughter the same, but she was like 10 years older than her so it was a bit weird. You hit it off great with her and after a couple weeks she invites you out on a date. Bit quick, but are you really going to argue with good fortune?
You go out to the Picts, managing to sneak into a movie that you're still too young for, grab a burger and then a walk around one of the parks. Overall, you enjoy your night out, but you can't help but notice some oddities. Besides the fact she insists she pays for everything and also doesn't seem to have a firm grasp of the value of a Libra, you notice that a couple of black ground cars follow you everywhere you go, with burly men always just out of line of sight. When you mention this to her, she friggen waves at them! And they waved back! So apparently she was on friendly terms with her stalkers. Joy.
Regardless, you have a pretty good night, and then she asks if you would take her home. Again, rather fast but who are you to say no to walking her home. You begin walking deeper into the city centre and the buildings go from cozy and familiar to more and more grand. You don't really notice it until the Liberation Palace starts to loom in the distance. You mention that there aren't many houses in the Government district, which she agrees with, utterly failing to answer the unspoken questions. By the time you reach the outer gate, with two members of the Liberator Guard standing watch in their Formal uniforms, you're preparing to be chastised and possibly threatened. You aren't ready for a pair of synchronous present arms as you pass, Zerayah giving a quick salute without stopping that somehow looks so crisp as to be almost reflexive.
Who the hell was this girl that she could just walk right into the palace of the liberation, and receive honest emperor salute from one of the most elite formations on Slawkenburg? Was this some kind of ambush? That they basically decided to start rounding up worshippers of the emperor one by one? By this point you've kind of committed yourself that you're seeing this through to the end, not just out of utter curiosity and fear, but also the knowledge that if you go back the other way, they might not let you out.
By the time you reach the inner door, the one that connects to the Palace proper, you can tell you are in way over your head. The black cars are back and now their passengers aren't even trying to be stealthy. They're following from within a couple of meters and have sprouted armbands. Ones that are clearly patterned after the Flag of the Liberator Guard. So whatever's going on, it's enough to draw the attention of the Liberators personal regiment. As in the group whose members are just below the Liberated Warhounds in terms of fighting prowess. And they were following him. Frak.
Zerayah Didn't seem all that worried, as she casually approached the massive reinforced doors, took out a dainty silver key, and slid it into a tiny hole in the massive lock on the front. It gave out a thundering click, and with out even a look back, Zerayah slid the massive doors, likely almost 4 times her own weight out of the way with one hand. " Come on." she called as she was already halfway through the door, " I'm sure father would like to meet you." oh goody, now he was going to get to meet somebody that put apparently exert in a political authority to hijack the liberator guard to look after his daughter. Which meant that he was about to be introduced to one of most powerful people on the planet, and he still had no idea who that was. And on top of everything, he wasn't in anything nice but a hooded shirt with some bands Dragon themed logo on it. In retrospect, he probably should've dressed better for a date, but regret wasn't going to save his hide, so no reason to start trying that now. So with all the assurance of a man who's already seen the firing squad loading the weapons and knows he's not going to get out of this, he follows his cute date into the single most powerful institution on the planet.
The inside is a lot more austere than he would have suspected, but on some level. After all, when you were going against an opulence, an out of touch governor, it really doesn't do to just go right back to opulence when you take control. Still, you can't help but feel they may have gone a bit overboard. Regardless, the halls are still grand and as you approach a far more subdued door, you can't help but be impressed by the sheer scale and power the entire palace exuded. The feeling of grandeur is only slightly diminished by your dates near constant dialogue about all the different rooms, and her personal opinions on them, which generally seem to lean heavily towards the positive. The fact that you're also being silently watched throughout the entire experience is only slightly disconcerting. You plan to forever deny that you scared visibly when a statue you stop to examine turned its head to look back at you.
Eventually, can't even make it to the very plain door, which Zerayah opens without preamble, and skips straight through, with you following behind. Inside is a well furnished, but relatively normal living room. Coaches and chairs are angled towards a rather impressive view of the city. Everything is clean, but lived in. Expensive, but clearly practical. Entire area seems empty at first, until a black figure emerges from one of the side rooms. At once your heart threatens to give out. Standing before you, looking exactly like the pictures you had seen, since you could crawl, stands the Liberator.
Your worst fears are true, this must be a purge of throne worshipers, and this is about to be your last moment. That smile he's wearing holds all the danger of an oncoming orbital bombardment, and none of the promise of quick relief. You're not really sure how you could make the situation worse!
Zerayah Skips over and hugs the single most dangerous person in this sector of space, and smiles up at him. "Hi Father! This is Tyson, the guy I told you about." The liberator hugs her back, and turns his eyes toward you, as you feel your blood turn to ice. Oh God-Emperor, she's that Zerayah! How was she that Zerayah!? You took the liberator daughter to a restrictived movie, then Went for fast food with her! You are so dead!
"You too were out late, everything go well?" You can't help but feel that your entire prospects for surviving are really dependent on the answer she gives. And the fact that she immediately launches into a detailed retelling of your night basically signs any kind of death warrant, that was being written up in the liberator's head. after five minutes of her talking, he puts one of his hands on her shoulders, "That's lovely dear. Would you mind going to get ready for bed? I'd like to have a talk with Tyson here."
As the only buffer between you and a man your fairly certain is planning on executing you strolls out of the room, you feel your brain going into overdrive thinking of anything you can say to try and save yourself. Naturally you come up with nothing. So you resort to the only thing you can think of. "Hello sir, My names Tyson."
"I am very much aware. I hear your family maintains a shrine to The Emperor, correct?" of course, that was rather public knowledge, and as much as he wanted to deny it for obvious reasons, it was probably not smart to try and play mind games with the man who clearly had a boltpistol holstered at his hip. "yes, sir, that out in the country it's more of an estate on a personal shrine."
For whatever reason that seem to spark something in his eyes as a small smile crept across his face. "I see. I think I'd like to visit it."
Oh frak.