Kerak, the new most popular Klingon on Caligar, slid a datalink onto his desk, before stripping off his large purple vest-robe and tossing it over a bench. He was pleased to hear that his niece had reported from the Vor’nak that she had been able to secure enough ore to finish their current construction projects and keep their shipyards fed for another 8 to 10 months. What he was not pleased about, was the host of perfunctory and performative engagements he was scheduled to attend over the next few days.

It had only been six days since Jutarg had left for the homeworld to continue his work as a member of the Armaments Council and Academy Admissions Board, and being the new Seneschal had kept him busy, though it was not without its perks. Kerak’s corner office on the sub penthouse floor of Castle Caligar, he considered one of those perks. Currently it appeared sullen and dimly lit as its side of the gigantic pyramidal stone and duranium structure was currently shaded from the harsh rays of Caligar’s large F-type star. But the space was adorned with multiple display screens to help him monitor everything from planetary security to construction schedules and customs reports with the rest of the wall space covered in ornamental or antique weapons and various pieces of his own personal memorabilia.

“Less than a week and you’re already loathing this new job.” he chuckled at himself as he realized his only other option would have had him serving on the ceremonial guard at Ty’go’kor, under a man he so eagerly wished to murder, yet was unable to, due to ‘politics’.

His brother-in-law had placed his faith in him to look after the day to day business on Caligar while Jutarg was off trying to secure their House’s return to the halls of power on Qo’nos. Old dogged Kerak would honour the request, no matter how much he might grow to detest the trappings of nobility. Though he was of noble blood, he had never aspired to become ‘a noble’. But alas, apparently it was now his lot to endure the finery of Klingon high society.

The large veranda through a large stone archway leading out from his sitting room was another of the saving graces that thankfully accompanied his new posting. Though it was half the size of the large deck Jutarg had up on the penthouse level above him; his faced the picturesque and  relatively unurbanized range of the coastal mountains that lay to the north of Caligar City. Just as he was about to wander out and enjoy a moment of solitude, his door chimed.

“Je’yach g’ich… Enter.” Kerak hollered as he poured himself a full mug of bloodwine.

His aide, a young Sogh who had recently been cited for valour on deployment along the Romulan front, rushed in.

“My lord, Colonel Kaarla from Planetary Security sent over an urgent message for you.” He walked over and handed the palm device to Kerak.

“Am I supposed to know who this is Cha’Vang?” On the small screen was a picture of a Klingon man of at least middle aged that wasn’t immediately familiar to him.

“The biometric data is on the next page, Lord Kerak.”

Kerak frowned, “What did I tell you about using those ostentatious titles with me. I’m a soldier of the Empire, the same as you, Lieutenant.”

“Sir.” Cha’vang acknowledged. Though Kerak was the only person to make such a request of him in his short time service on the House’s staff, he respected Kerak’s consistency on the matter.

Kerak read the bio’s infobox, and internally shuddered. What business would the leader of the House of Korvath have on Caligar? Their holdings, such as they were, were nowhere near their sector. Not to mention the fact that his niece had just concluded a less-than-legal deal, with a known, highly placed member of House Korvath’s Intelligence apparatus.

Kerak turned and strode towards his desk as he continued reading.

“Was there anything else Lieutenant?”

“Uh yes sir. Your wife has arrived at the main gate asking to see you.” The aide replied.

Kerak stopped in his tracks at the mention of his wife. She had only visited Castle Caligar on three previous occasions; their wedding, and two funerals.

“Jerh’ka, is here? Why didn’t you start with that, you fool. Are you trying to get my throat cut? Go and get Colonel Kaarla on the line, and call me, and route it here to my terminal the second I activate the silent alarm.” Kerak then heard the soul shaking and unmistakable tone of his wife’s voice outside the door.

“Silent alarm sir?” Cha’vang’s face scrunched in consternation.

“You’ve never met my wife. Now go, wait for my signal.” Kerak said as he heard his mate through the door.

“Of course I don’t have an appointment! Do you make appointments to see your mate, you Targ-faced mongrel? Now get out of my way.” The booming voice of his wife carried through the duranium door like the sound of an approaching hurricane.

The old Captain rushed to the door, hoping his clerk would step aside, and barring that, Kerak meant to save him from requiring some facial reconstruction surgery.

Kerak’s wife had come for one simple reason. Their son. Apparently he had come home from his recent deployment with the KDF with a rampant alcohol addiction (moreso then the Klingon society base level) and some shockingly violent and anti-social tendencies.

After several moments of her, less than calmly, explaining the situation, Kerak asked, “And what do you propose I should do?”

“He’s your son, and I’m about to wash my hands of him and throw him out in the street. I will not tolerate his insolence in my household any longer. I don’t care what you do, but this cannot continue.”

Kerak walked over and placed a hand on his wife’s shoulder, “He was on the Romulan front for most of the last year, my love. You’ve seen the holonews, the fighting has been desperate there, especially now that the Republic and their spinward allies have thrown in some of their elite forces to stem our ill-conceived invasion.”

His wife confided, “He screams incessantly through the night and rants about Reman ghouls, Kerak. He won’t speak with me about it, and he has another month worth of leave.”

She went and rested her rear against his desk near the far side of the room. Kerak followed and leaned next to her. He had been meaning to go home for the last several weeks but hadn’t found the time with his new job. He wanted to explode at Jerh’ka for not telling him about the situation sooner, but he stopped himself, as he realized she had tried to deal with the situation and knew how important his new job was. He couldn’t get mad at her for trying to be a caring spouse now could he?

“You’re the head of our House and you’ve seen fighting as harsh if not harsher. This is your responsibility. As a mother there’s just some things he will never share with me.” Jerh’kas rage began to subside.

“You’re right my love,” he grabbed her hand and held it to his heart, “I will come home tonight and deal with Ramak. In fact, I will finish up my business here and come with you now. Lets go.” Kerak righted himself and led his wife over to the door and out into the House Operations Centre. This was family, and no amount of Imperial pomp or scheduled ceremonies would prevent him from looking after them.

“Cha’vang! Front and centre.” He said commandingly so those around the room could hear. The dutiful Sogh marched over and came to attention in front in him.

“Sir!”

“For your valiant conduct on the front lines and your excellent work here at Headquarters, you are hereby promoted to the rank of Sogh’la, and named as my new Senior Military Aide.” Kerak slapped the man firmly on the shoulder as many of the staffers around the large command centre began cheering. Cha’vang was going to be promoted before leaving the assignment anyway, and Kerak was simply adding the word ‘Senior’ to the title of his current billet.

“I’ll be dealing with personal affairs tomorrow, so you’ll need to attend the events we have on the schedule, in my stead. You won’t need to deliver any speeches, just shake some grasp some forearms, smash some ridges and be jovial…oh, and don’t promise anyone anything, especially and military support or patronage, as you are representing Jutarg himself. Congratulations.”

Cha’vang stood stone faced for a second before a grin started to appear, “Yes sir. Glory to our House, sir,” he saluted.

With that, Kerak and his wife left to carry-on and deal with their wayward son.