Sure, the Duke of Gramm had been dealing with a number of his own problems. That came with a planet-duchy. It still didn't help with what he was seeing.
The trader had pulled in and, as usual, was full of newsreels from the other systems in the quadrant. This one had just come from Trammelsham, one of Gramm's close allies, and he had been excited to get the news.
Well, it had been good news. The five-year war was over, the planet was recovering rapidly from minimal damage (their fleet was one of the best), and the new Queen would be crowned in a matter of months if Gramm's representative would be willing to attend.
He'd known something was odd when Trammelsham had refused to allow a consulate there, but, knowing the culture, it was nothing he'd worried about. Just another peculiarity. Intelligence agents sent had reported back with nothing, but no news was better than bad news, right? Some technical exchanges, social proprieties, and minor details had been communicated, but nothing seemed amiss.
Five years?! Really? A whole allied navy just four months' jump out, and not a word? How much had they paid the traders, the reporters, to keep quiet? And now, of course, with the end nice and resolved and good news to boot, they decided to send a nice little summary newsreel.
How quaint.
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