A harsh wind sent waves through the lawn made out of fake grass. The heavy gusts threatened to knock off Turbina's glasses. The noble woman sitting across from her laughed.
"Oh no, Ms. Kaset, don't drop those," she said in a playfully mocking tone. "You wouldn't want somebody to step on them, hm?"
The two sat underneath the shade of a marble gazebo. Turbina Kaset had come to find a quiet place to rest now that the party was coming to a close, but apparently this woman didn't get the memory. Across the lot, Ms. Kaset spotted her hefty mom chugging a bottle of stem rum of the day.
She thinks it was the first of the day, but she could never be sure with her mother.
It was 7 in the morning when Weenlette practically dragged her daughter out of bed to attend some sort of party. Nothing out of the ordinary, honestly. Turbina would've loved to pay attention to what exactly the meeting was all about, but her groggy mind caused her to zone out through half of it.
"I assure you, I keep doubles on me," Turbina replied, pulling a second purple-rimmed pair out of her purse.
The second noble woman laughed, gesturing with her hand, "Gosh, you are nothing like your mother. Say, how about after Stephill calls this off, you head with my friends down to the pool?"
For a split second, the thought hooked her. It had been so long since she went swimming. If she recalled right, it was before she and Fencien quit talking.
She cringed internally.
It had been almost a decade since that, hadn't it?
She somberly sighed. "I would love to, but you know me. My mother wants me to meet the Carnbinkle Diner's owner a little after noon, so I need to get changed before that."
"Damn, alright. Heeeyyyy, if you see that old fart's son, tell him that he still owes me 200 Marks."
Her mother would kill her if she actually did that. "Yeah, sure."
Turbina sipped on her half-empty glass of water. It was crystal-pure in both taste and look. It was unrealistic, just like everything else on this lot. The marble pillars, the lawn, the sense of community—it was all smoke and mirrors.
The Stem Ram's bored eyes watched as the head of the estate, Stephfill Frie, waltzed over to her mother. He carried himself with confident steps, one foot in front of another perfectly as if he were some sort of Lawman. Frie and Weenlette spoke briefly before Weenlette started to scout around.
The 23-year-old noble tried to shrink herself down. It was of no use. Her mother gestured across the lawn in Turbina's direction, spotting her. As the two stout nobles started making their way towards Turbina, she exhaled.
"Turbina, darling, get over here!" Her mother cried out in her unfortunately familiar, shrill voice. Some faces turned momentarily before going back to indulging in the Frie family's assorted trays of treats.
She hoped the gazebo hid her distasteful expression from the nameless woman next to her. The last thing she'd want is her peers spreading rumors.
Making a perfectly convincing smile, the noble woman stood up and brushed off her dress. The Stem City skyline barely reflected across her glasses; the rest of the city was so far away in her mind. With a faux-nod to her short-lived companion, Turbina stepped out into the manor's lawn and met both her mother and the host on the center pathway.
"Looking splendid as ever," Stephill Frie complimented, giving a wide smile as he straightened his jacket.
"Thank you, Mr. Frie."
Taking a standing position next to her daughter, Weenlette gave a crooked smile of her own, "Mr. Frie, I believe you wanted to finally discuss your proposition with my daughter? Is that correct?"
Frie let out a small chortle. "You know quite well that is correct, Kaset."
Weenlette giggled, facing Turbina as she did. It was a specific look that her daughter knew quite well. Turbina's smile grew as she let out a few chuckles. If she hadn't laughed, Turbina had zero doubts that her mother would've given her an earful the moment they got home.
"What's this about? Am I in trouble?" Turbina continued along with their joking attitude.
"No, no, of course not! I've merely been in talks with your mother about something for a long, long time, and I want to know if you're interested. Please follow me; we'll need some privacy." Stephill gestured down the granite road that led up to the empty foyer of his mansion.
Weenlette waved them both off. She wore an usually happy smile. It kind of creeped Turbina out, to be honest. It wasn't normal to see her mother beaming with joy.
Following along silently, her high heels and his heavy boots seemed to echo out around a world of their own. The rich and powerful rams of Stem City partied on like nothing was wrong, like their profits weren't falling, and like the Era of the Noble was still kicking in full force.
Turbina didn't know how the nobles were still riding their economic high. The Outlands settlements created an alternative economy; there were more off-worlder-owned businesses than ever before; and on top of all that, Blema Von Voldark's rule seemed insistent on stripping away control that the rich had generationally had over the city.
After having business class after business class shoved down her throat, the solution was obvious.
These nobles should be out there, learning how to cooperate with the aliens in the streets. She thought the off-worlders down below were as icky as the next ram, sure, but if Turbina was at the head of Stem Tower, she'd figure out how to at least make them work together with the rams.
Stephill Frie opened the massive white front door for Turbina, "Ladies first!"
The old man's smile made her uneasy, but it would be rude not to accept it. She gave a curt bow and thanked him before stepping inside the overdecorated foyer. Green-striped wallpaper clashed with stark white pillars and purple floor trimmings. The massive man waved her to take a seat on the curly yellow couch in the middle of the high-hall entryway.
Turbina thought it looked tacky. Whoever Frie hired to decorate this place sucked at it. However, she gave a few dainty brushes to her dress and sat her caboose down. When Stephill sat down next to her, the entire couch shifted from his huge weight. The smell of his rose-scented colone hit her all at once.
She couldn't help but gag.
"Are you alright?" He asked with a worried expression on his face. She couldn't tell if it was genuine or not.
She lied, "Yes, yes, quite fine! I don't know; I think I might be allergic to the grass out there?"
"Ahh, what a shame! If you had said something earlier, I would've let you sit inside!"
"No, no, it's okay, okay." Turbina didn't want to even be on this property, period.
Out of his jacket's front pocket, the large man diligently pulled out a folded piece of paper. She watched him carefully unpeel it and hold it out between them. The font was obnoxiously tiny; Turbina adjusted her glasses and bent forward. Frie's scented body odor simply had to be tolerated. All of this had to be tolerated.
"Let us waste no more time and get to the core of this potential arrangement, hmm?" The manor owner said, a large grin sprawling out underneath his mustache. "See, as I'm sure you know, about 15 years ago, when Blema passed the MONOPOLY ACT, she ruined the reputation of my noble advisory group, the Great Nobles Union."
He sighed. "With more and more of the lower-class population heading out to the Outlands, it appears as if each year, the profits of my beloved BACKBONE INDUSTRY, along with all noble-owned businesses, are falling..."
She knew about the state of their financial stability. Did he think she was ignorant? That was a surprise considering how her mom did nothing but talk her up at the countless parties they went to.
Turbina looked into Stephill's eyes. She was only seven back when Stephill Frie's GNU held any sort of power. From the little that she remembered in whispers at school, Blema's whole soft disassembling of their control was controversial. Though that's all she really knew, she was finished with the academy by the time the textbooks got updated. She took a mental note to look into it online whenever she got home.
"Are you following, my dear?"
"Yes, yes, I'm listening."
"Good." He nodded his head to seemingly reassure himself. "Good. I want to revive the Great Noble Union in an attempt to bring back the economy. We must find an inticing way to bring back the aliens to our glorious city again. And, how do I propose we do that?"
Stephill Frie pointed out one of the foyer's gigantic windows. Following its directions, her eyes fell onto the distant Stem Tower. At the heart of the city, the Grand Shroom stood tall, and with it was the government's steel pillar of a brain.
It took her a moment, but then it clicked.
Was he suggesting a coup? Turbina gave him a wild look of disbelief.
Stem Tower had ruled for almost 400 years, and during that time, their control over Stem City's policies was not faulted once. She knew that the businessman was far older than he appeared, but she genuinely wondered if he had gone senile.
"Mr. Frie, sir, I don't think I quite understand what you're suggesting...?"
"I am suggesting we call for change." His eeriely cheery smile only grew. "You may have been far too young to remember all the details of life before them, but let me assure you, Blema's policies have taken our means to protect ourselves, the stability of the economy, the safety of the streets below... It is Stem Tower's uncontested rule that allows her iron fist to halt us from the Stem City we truly desire.
Do you want to know what we have left that she refuses to take away, my dear? The ability to discomfort the masses. As I'm sure you know, nobles own up to 90% of all the businesses in this glorious city. If we were to hold back our goods to where the aliens in the streets below began to struggle, the tower's solid grasp over its domain would weaken as desperate citizens turned to the Outlands or took to rioting the governmental buildings."
Turbina stared at Frie's hunched-forward figure with horror. She couldn't believe him; if he was suggesting what she thought he was suggesting, then...
Chaos. He wanted to create chaos so the tower would listen to them.
"Are you suggesting that you think Blema will listen to our demands if we damage their control over the economy?" She asked cautiously, trying to make sure she fully understood the suggested manipulations. A slow, excited nod confirmed her suspicions.
"Precisely. My Great Noble Union had done something like it in the past, but it was shortsighed, and frankly, quite selfishly motivated." The multimillionaire woefully sighed. "We need the majority of rams to partake in this protest—no, partake in this call for change.
And, for this to work, I need a beautiful," He slithered his arm behind her, the couch cushions pushing them closer as his voice turned to a vicious hiss: "young, community-beloved miss, such as yourself, to call for all business owners to stop restocking. When the supplies run out, the off-worlders will grow desperate. They will either leave the city or riot. Either works."
The wicked man's chemical scent was overwhelming. She scooted back. Her heart was pounding. Turbina's mind tried to even comprehend the idea that he would attempt to purposely upset the tower. Did her mom know about this scheme of his? How long had they talked about this?
The noble woman peered at the contract he held. Her eyes glided across its contents in a rush. None of the information was absorbed. It was all going in one eye and out the other.
"At the next Ahsonov Ball, I want you to endorse the Great Noble Union and call for a movement. It will be framed as a protest in the name of recreating what Blema has carelessly snatched away from us. It will call for us to gain the ability to vote upon this nation's policies."
She thought the off-worlders down below were as icky as the next noble, but this plan could end horribly. It could possibly cause enough dissent that the noble class' businesses would suffer permanently. Did he realize that? Was he really willing to take the chance?
"But..."
"Apartment owners would kick out their tenants, sign companies would send out protesting messages citywide, and most importantly, the majority of food stores would no longer sell any of the aliens' favorite treats. Wouldn't you go a little mad, darling? Wouldn't you want to fight against the state that was letting this happen?"
It was much worse. He was willing to pull them all the way down to the bottom as a way to grasp at more power.
"Why me? Why not you?"
Stephill Frie relaxed on the sofa and let out a bellowing, arrogant laugh.
"It's elementry, my dear. The last part of the plan requires such a squeaky clean lady as yourself to work: the most economically and socially influential nobles will choose you, a known face and stainless pillar of their community, to be their first elected leader."
Saliva got caught in her throat. Her heart rattled in her ribcage. The plan all started to make sense to Turbina: He didn't want to just destabilize Stem Tower; he wanted to prevent anybody like Blema from getting there ever again. He wanted a puppet.
For years, her overbearing mom had been training her for something like this; there was so much knowledge forcefully crammed into her growing brain that it melded together over the years. All of her blood, sweat, and tears for the past decade were leading up to this, wasn't it?
She had no friends she genuinely enjoyed being around; she had no real purpose beyond putting on a friendly face. She's gained a reputation among her higher-class noble peers because it was what was expected of her. She wanted neither the reputation nor the peers in the first place, but there was no choice.
However, Frie was presenting her with the opportunity to finally utilize everything she's studied for and all the empty friendships she's forged. She could be the one to bind the aliens, ram, and government in a system where they were forced to work together.
This offer screamed anything but coincidental to her. It was destiny.
"Between us, you are much more capable than the blind broad currently in charge." The large man carefully laid the contract on her lap. "I can assure you that much." Clearing his throat, he motioned to the door with both his oversized gloves and oversized smile. "I believe that's all. I don't require a decision now; I'll take your signature any time before the 84th of this quarter."
Any trace of the exhaustion Turbina experienced from being awake that morning had drained right out of her.
Her high-heels echoed around the foyer as she left. Her mind struggled between an apathetically empty and a painfully full state. The carefully folded page rustled about in her tightly stuffed purse.
Taking one last glance over her shoulder and towards Mr. Frie, Turbina met his glare with a blank stare.
"Thank you. I'll consider your proposition carefully," she curtly said before heading back out into Stem Island's abyss' light.