Title: Fifth vorn
Rating: K+
'Verse: Foreign ways

Summary: Five vorns of ruling Praxus aren't very many, but it's a significant date and everyone is watching. So when Prowl is called away and several unexpected visitors arrive, can Jazz keep up appearances?

Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers or profit from this

Jazz walked into the preparation room to pass on the news that the transport shuttle had arrived but paused when he saw the near-complete gold detailing that had been added to Prowl's usual ebony and ivory colouration. The work was delicate and the substances expensive so he stayed still and quiet until it was done, before finally moving closer.

"Primus, Kohlie, you look amazin'." he murmured.

"Don't you dare touch." Prowl warned. "I must not have any smudges on my finish."

Jazz folded his arms to better resist temptation.

"You're stunnin'."

"It is adequate." Prowl conceded, peering into a mirror and directing one of the attendants to some minor flaw on his hip. "Bad enough that we have had to accept Prime's offer to waive our tribute, but I must be presentable before the Council or it will be entirely shameful."

"Everyone knows we can't afford anythin' right now." Jazz pointed out.

"What is known and what is expected are rarely the same." Prowl said absently, bending a little so that the thin crystal coronet could be settled over his helm without catching on his chevron. "Especially amongst the nobles." he finished. "Now are you certain you understand all of the duties you need to perform while I am in Iacon? It's very important that this goes smoothly. Next vorn it won't be such an issue, but this is the fifth commemoration of our investiture as rulers of Praxus and that is significant." He paused, frowning sharply. "If this were any other situation I would not permit it to call me away. The request for this conclave of the Council of Rulers must have come from Protihex and with full knowledge of the implications. They have long wished to annex Praxus, and my absence during even just a part of the fifth vorn commemorations..."

"Is understood by everyone." Jazz soothed him, well familiar with his mate's worries on this issue; they had been discussing it for the past ten decaorns, ever since the invitation had arrived from Iacon. "Everything will be fine. You'll go to Iacon for the meetin' an' be back in time for the blessin'. In the meantime, I'll greet the guests an' host the celebration, an' everythin'll work out. No problems."

"No problems." Prowl echoed, waving away the artisans and scrutinising the result. "Yes this is acceptable. My compliments for your skill."

"The honour is ours, my lord." the senior murmured, bowing and guiding his staff out, leaving them alone.

"This is an extravagance we can ill-afford, minimal as it is." Prowl muttered, carefully settling the platinum-link cape around his shoulders. "But it must be done. Praxus must be represented and the cost in social standing will be all the greater if I do not look the part. We need to maintain the confidence of those who are extending credit, and thus this farce must play out. Jazz, please remember that you need to greet the priests with your right hand, the minor nobility with your left, the higher nobility with a quarter bow and all others with no more than a nod. You are no longer a commoner and your tactile ways may be taken as offensive..."

"I know, I know." Jazz promised. "Blue'll be looking out for me, don't worry."

"Bluestreak," Prowl corrected him with a sharp look, "has his own duties to attend to. Coil will be on hand but since you have no personal secretary you will simply have to manage this on your own."

"An' I will." Jazz tried to reassure him, wanting to reach out to hug him but knowing he couldn't right now. "It'll be fine, trust me."

Prowl still looked troubled but said nothing more, and then Jazz remembered why he had come.

"Your transport's here."

Prowl glanced towards the door, then back to the mirror one last time before turning away.

"I'll call you this evening."

"It'll be fine, Kohlie. Really." Jazz promised.

"So long as you remember everything that needs to be done. And for as much as you love me, please refrain from using that Iacon street-cant when speaking in public? Your accent is your own - though I'll never understand how you and Ricochet picked up a Kaonic accent when you've lived most of your life in Iacon - but ain't is not a real word."

"I'll do it for you." Jazz promised. "Might slip a time or two, but I'll do my best."

Prowl paused, then nodded and gave him a faint smile.

"All will be well. I will feel considerably less tense when this is over."

"Me too. An' then I get t'touch, right?" he added, drawing a soft laugh from his mate.

"As much as you wish, once our guests have left." Prowl assured him.

"Heh. I'll have t'get your schedule cleared for an orn or two, then. Gotta do a proper job of it."

Prowl's doorwings flicked, then his expression smoothed again.

"Alright. Lets begin."

Prowl's departure was typically ritualistic, and his travel party involved an inordinate number of mechs for what was effectively a four orn round trip.

Firstly, there was Prowl's core entourage. His secretary, Scribe, two attendants and three servants. There were also two hulking bearers for carrying everything, since that task could not be given to any of the others without risking negative comment, or so Prowl assured him.

Then there was a full honour guard of thirteen soldiers from the Praxian military corps. They would guard Prowl's accommodation and transport and act as bodyguards for the entire trip. Jazz had initially been alarmed by the idea that his mate might need protecting, but again it seemed to be a purely ceremonial role. Tradition more than genuine cause.

Beyond those, there were two priests and four companions, drawn from the most prominent of the surviving merchant families. Prowl had fretted over the choice of companions for nearly two decaorns, since in theory he should only be accompanied by fellow nobles but in practice the only surviving nobles were himself and Bluestreak. He had agonised over whether it was more important to stick to the rank tradition or to the tradition of taking suitable company. In the end he had decided that it made a better political statement to present the state of Praxus in its current form rather than attempting to conceal the truth that everyone already knew and thus had selected these four. Who had then spent much of their time being drilled by him in the appropriate behaviour for their role.

Of course, each priest and companion had their own entourage too, so the crowd waiting in the courtyard when Jazz and Prowl finally appeared was quite substantial.

Pausing on the steps, Prowl turned to him and publicly turned over control of Praxus. Jazz knew the words for the acceptance - they had practiced them regularly - but as he said them it suddenly struck home that this was real. That Prowl was leaving and that from this moment everything that occurred in Praxus was now his responsibility. Prowl seemed to sense the change in him because he nodded approvingly at the end before turning away. His honour guard took up position around him and guided him through the now bowing crowd and onto the shuttle. Once he was inside there was then a carefully choreographed movement of everyone else in turn based on their rank.

Only a scattering of onlookers were left with Jazz when the shuttle door finally closed, and those dispersed quickly on to other tasks, a great deal of preparation still to be done before the first guests arrived. In moments he was left with only Clipper at his side.

"Are you ready for your own detailing now?" the attendant asked politely.

Jazz sighed. He was only going to be tidied up, the bulk of their available funds going towards Prowl's trip to Iacon, but it would still take several groons and be far more than he would ever have bothered with in his previous life.

He gave one last glance to the shuttle. There was no sign of movement but he assumed that the last of the passengers were being seated and the last of the cargo was being secured. It would take off soon, but Prowl would not be wasting time staring out the window at him and would probably not want him wasting time either.

"Alright, lets get on wit'it."

The remainder of the orn passed rapidly with minor problems to resolve and decisions to make. He finally found time to check on Bluestreak just before dusk and was amazed by how efficiently the sparkling was handling his own duties looking after the preparations for the crystal ceremony. Jazz had thought the request was a bit much to ask of a sparkling, but Prowl had pointed out - quite correctly - that Jazz did not even know where to start and Bluestreak did, so that was that.

The gardeners who had cultivated this garden since they had moved in to this residence had done an amazing job but the structures were still very new and fragile. The merest touch could fracture or shatter whole outcroppings. Yet Bluestreak was walking amongst them confidently and indicating which should be pruned and which left alone. Jazz waved to him, not nearly as confident about going out to meet him for fear of doing some inadvertant damage, and Bluestreak waved back but didn't stop his work. Feeling slightly envious of the sparklet's confidence, he headed reluctantly back inside to carry on with his own duties.

A groon later he was still in Prowl's office, trying to rearrange the seating plan for the fourth time after news of yet another political change between two of the states sending representatives, when he was interrupted by the butler.

"Lord Jazz?"

"Coil? Are the guests arriving already?"

The butler's doorwings flickered faintly.

"Not precisely, sir. We do have a visitor but he is not on the guest list. I would like to send him away but he insists that he speak with you."

"Who is it?"

"An Iaconian named Ricochet."

"Ric's here? Sure, send'im in."

Coil did not move.

"Sir, all of the guest rooms are occupied and you have a great deal to do. And this mech is..."

"Is what?" Jazz asked, surprised at the other mech's reluctance.

Coil neither twitched nor changed expression but Jazz could feel the discomfort radiating off him.

"I'm not at all certain Lord Prowl would approve of such a mech being invited in during such an important time. Nor, in fact, at any time."

"It's fine, Prowl knows him."

Coil still did not seem ready to move, so Jazz rose.

"Okay, lets go see what's up, eh?"

Heading out, he was halfway to the front hall when Coil indicated that he should turn to the left.

"You sent him to the back?"

Coil's expression tightened but he said nothing, leading the way. They walked through the bustle of the servants halls, a place Jazz did not go often (since they tended to shoo him away) but in the past had always been quiet and orderly. Not so this orn, with the very last of the preparations occurring, but they all made room for him and Coil and soon they were stepping out into the back courtyard. At which point Jazz found himself lost for words as his brother began babbling at him.

It had been awhile since he had seen Ricochet, but the reason for Coil's discomfort was now patently obvious.

"What the frag happened to you!" he blurted.

Ricochet grimaced, rubbing sheepishly at the back of his neck.

"Uh, long story?"

"I'll bet." Jazz agreed, shaking his head. "Why'd you get the mods?"

"Um, well, see... it's complicated."

"As always. Well I've got stuff to do so I ain't got time to listen now. Coil, find'im a room an' some energon, would ya?"

Coil stiffened.

"As I explained, there are no spare guest rooms."

"Then put'im in the servants section."

"There's no room there either; the attendants of our guests will take up all of the remaining space. As it is, some of our own staff will have to give up their living spaces to accommodate those who are coming."

"Then put him in the room next to Blue's." Jazz shrugged, then quickly corrected himself. "Bluestreak's, I mean. Primus, Prowl'll have me reformatted if I slip on that in public. Ric - go wit' Coil but stay put. Havin' you here, lookin' like that, ain't exactly gonna fit wit'the schedule."

"Sir, please...!" Coil tried to protest.

"That's my decision." Jazz said firmly. "Ain't no-one usin' that room right now, an' I dunno how many times you've said that those apartments can only be used by family. Well he's family. In trouble again, like always, but still family."

The butler was clearly unhappy but was also well trained and simply nodded shortly then gestured curtly for Ricochet to follow him. Jazz stood and watched them go, still incredulous. His brother had gotten sexbot mods? Now that was a story he had to hear in full. Just not right now.

Prowl accepted the flute of energon and took a moment to appreciate the artisanship of the container. Hand crafted out of a whole crystal, just the one he held would pay for a full crew's labour on building a residential unit; a travesty when compared to the needs of his city. Not that he was surprised; he had never been invited to the Prime's palace at Iacon before, but he knew what to expect.

As a younger mech he would have been overwhelmed by the grandeur, he reflected. With his personal experiences, and with Jazz's influence, he now found the extravagance repugnant when he thought of how many in this very city were going hungry tonight. Let alone how many back in his home city could be fed from the proceeds of the sale of just a few of these glasses.

Not that his dismay was permitted to show. He smiled and made small talk with those around him, well aware that he was being watched even as he watched others. This he could do without much effort, vorns of training coming to the fore, but when he found himself before Sentinel himself the smile was genuine and so was the bow.

"An honour to be here, Prime."

"You are very welcome, Lord Prowl. How is Lord Jazz?"

"He is well, thank you."

"It is unfortunate he could not be here to join us." a newcomer interjected.

"Lord Hyperion." Prowl nodded in cool greeting.

This was a mech he could have happily not spoken to at all. Still, he was not going to walk away and let the other mech think he felt intimidated.

"Lord Prowl. Prime. Psychedelia was so looking forward to meeting your lord-consort."

"I'm sure she will get the opportunity at another time."

"Yes, but it is rather poor form to not present him to the Prime."

"In fact I am already acquainted with Lord Jazz." Sentinel pointed out. "He has been an admirably dedicated mate."

Prowl managed to fight the urge to smile smugly and instead maintain an innocent expression as Hyperion absorbed the point of that comment: the Protihexian was now on to his fourth mate in the span of a century and everyone knew it.

"As we discussed through correspondence, I will not be able to attend your city's blessing in three orns time." Sentinel continued, looking at Prowl. "But I have sent an envoy to act as witness."

That was new. The correspondence had indicated that no-one would attend, which was appropriate if the Prime himself could not come and had been fully understood. What did it mean, that that had changed?

"Whoever is sent will be welcomed." Prowl bowed. "And you are welcome to visit at any time that your schedule permits; Praxus has much cause to be grateful to you and your office."

Sentinel smiled.

"Praxus is blessed to have such tolerant rulers, wouldn't you say, Lord Hyperion?"

"So long as tolerance is not confused with disregard for the traditions so important to the smooth running of our society."

"Surely you would suggest I take umbrage at the Prime's absence when he is so obviously otherwise engaged?" Prowl asked.

Hyperion frowned.

"Of course not."

"Then please, you will have to help me understand your comment."

Sentinel bowed out of the conversation, another drawing his attention, and Hyperion's polite mask dropped for a moment.

"You should dissolve your alliance with that common foreigner and you know it." he whispered. "His very presence shames you."

"There is no shame." Prowl countered. "I would venture that any you percieve stems from your guilt at your own poor choice of companion."

"Protihex will never welcome him, nor you while you persist in your relationship with him."

"While on the contrary, Praxus will always welcome you and whoever you bring." Prowl responded sweetly.

Hyperion stalked away and Prowl stayed still, well aware of the others nearby who had witnessed the exchange. It would be crass to show his inward glee at the triumph, so he did not. Instead he waited, and within moments there was someone else approaching him, and the game went on.

Jazz grimaced as he spotted a scuff mark on his wrist. He would have to get Clipper to sort that out. But that was for later.

For now, he was nearly done welcoming the guests; only these last arrivals to go and then he would be free.

He had spent the entire orn in this reception room. It was a tedious process of waiting for each visitor to be formally announced, then waiting while they entered and gave a brief speech and presented him with a gift. Then it was his turn to speak, using pretty much the same script for each group, before descending from the dais and welcoming them. They would then be guided away to their rooms and offered refreshments while he returned to position and began over.

The ones who had just left should have been the last. The guests were welcomed in order of importance and he had memorised the names of the last three so he knew when he was getting close to the end. But a junior servant had slipped in just before the last one to tell him there were some unexpected late arrivals and he would need to stay in place. So here he was.

"Lord Orion and Consort Ariel of Iacon." the chamberlain announced, the doors opening.

Orion? he wondered. He knew that Lord Midas of Iacon had several heirs, but he did not think he had heard of one called Orion. This was where he needed a secretary, he mused. It was not appropriate for Coil to be here with him, the butler had other duties, and he was not entirely certain how these guests should be addressed. Prowl had Scribe for such things, maybe it was time he got one himself? No. Not yet. He almost never had to do this kind of thing without Prowl to take the lead, and it was another expense. And they couldn't be all that important if they hadn't been on the original guest list. Minor nobility, at best. Right hand, it was. Or perhaps even just a nod.

The invitation to meet privately with Lord Jaspar of Crystal City was unexpected but unlikely to be less than congenial given the support that Crystal City had offered their stricken neighbour over the past five vorns. Nevertheless he was on his guard. Crystal City had always been of slightly lower status than older Praxus, but now their stations were reversed and with debts mounting he had little in the way of bargaining power if Jaspar wanted a favour.

As it happened, though, this ally had a different motive.

"I don't believe you ever attended a conclave before." Jaspar commented lightly once they had been served refreshments and the servants had left the room. "Yet you are handling yourself well."

Prowl nodded politely.

"My thanks. It was unlikely I would ever be invited to such an event but I was fully tutored."

"And it shows." Jaspar approved. "Still, there are some things that can only be learned through experience. This is not a normal conclave, for example. Indeed, there are more in attendance here this time than I have seen in centuries."

"I would not know." Prowl said carefully, wondering where this was going but determined not to be cornered into asking.

Jaspar smiled in approval of his restraint.

"I thought you mightn't be aware. Praxus has been far too busy with its own concerns to be fully informed and Sentinel is being uncharacteristically indirect. But you may wish to keep abreast of this matter, given its nature: it seems the Prime has selected a successor."

Prowl considered that for a moment.

"Such an announcement would be cause for a full Festival, not a mere Conclave."

"Quite so, and yet it has not yet been announced. Nevertheless, he has been involving this mech in his activities in ways that would suggest it is true. That, in fact, is why so many have come who might otherwise not have done so, in expectation of meeting him. Yet it seems he will remain absent, and one must wonder why."

"Is there some aspect to this mech that might cause the Prime to hesitate introducing him?" Prowl asked, picking up on the cue.

"Perhaps so. The successor isn't one of us." Jaspar responded with particular emphasis on the final word.

"There is precedent for commoners being selected to be Prime." Prowl pointed out, not needing Jaspar to be more explicit.

"True, but such occurs almost exclusively when the successor comes from a different city state, to ensure that the nobility of the new state does not gain unduly from the raising. Yet Orion is Iaconian. And he is not merely a commoner, he is a dock worker. Barely educated, though intensively tutored since Prime took interest in him. A pattern we have seen before."

Prowl realised where this was going, and did not like it.

"I know nothing of this former dock worker but I assume the Prime has made his choice for his own reasons and very much doubt that my own relationship has any bearing on the matter."

Jaspar pretended a studied interest in selecting a confection from the tray on the table.

"You have made no public statement as to your circumstances prior to ascending to your current position, but your story is well known amongst your peers."

"I never expected it to remain hidden."

"Then you will understand that your ascendancy was unchallenged at least in part due to the obvious favour Sentinel has shown towards you and your consort."

"It does not surprise me," Prowl admitted, "though were any such challenge to have been presented I would have been happy to defend my claim. The crime for which I was condemned can only be considered relevant to one of my creation-rank, and so that alone is proof that I am who I claim to be."

"Yet were any other to have survived, they would likely have refused you permission to return to Praxus, or perhaps even demanded you fulfil your obligations as laid out."

"That may well have been so, if such a situation had occurred. But it did not. I am the only surviving adult noble and I have committed my life to restoring Praxus to her former glory, including the preservation of her traditions."

"But you still have a foreign mate, and one who was of worker stock. Forgive me for my bluntness for I do in fact like the mech myself, but he is not of our kind, and much more importantly in your situation, not of your model. Have you considered taking a more acceptable consort, and retaining Jazz in a role more suited to his status?"

Prowl put down his cube gently, furious at the unexpected attack on his mate from someone he had thought had accepted him but determined to remain civil. He needed Jaspar's support too much to say what he was truly thinking.

"Jazz is my sparkmate. He does not have the background of others but he is learning. He is dedicated to his role."

"Then how do you explain the paid berthmate he has invited into your home?"

The question was openly offensive and Prowl could bear to hear no more or risk saying things he knew he should not.

"I do not explain it because I know he would not do such a thing. You have clearly been misinformed." Prowl said frostily, rising. "Now if you will excuse me, I must see to my companions. Good evening."

Walking out, he forced himself to remain silent until he was well clear of the other mech's apartments, then gestured to his secretary.

"Scribe."

"Yes sir?"

"Get me a secure and private connection back to Praxus. It seems I need to speak to Jazz as soon as possible."

"Praxus is four joors ahead of us, he may already have retired for the evening. Shall I ask for him to be summoned anyway?"

"Yes." Prowl said firmly.

This could not wait.

With the greetings finally over and all of the guests having been shown to their accommodation, Jazz's next duty was to check in with the preparations for the following orn. This first orn was simply for introductions. Tomorrow was his big orn as host. Tomorrow night Prowl would arrive home, and then he could return to his more comfortable role as companion and support, leaving Prowl to deal with all the politics, but first he had to get through a full orn of it.

The thought made him want to go straight to his berth and charge, but there was something else he needed to do first. He needed to talk to Ricochet and find out exactly what was going on with his brother, and preferably before Prowl found out he was here. Under normal circumstances Prowl would just roll his optics and leave the two of them to sort it out, but right now the mech was up tight about every possible political interpretation. Having a mech with obvious sex mods staying during the blessing wasn't exactly on the plans.

Turning down a branching corridor in the apartments he passed Bluestreak's room and intended to continue on to the next full apartment but then paused as he saw a temporary glyph above a smaller door - one which led to the single berth room which would house a personal attendant for the empty apartment.

Jazz sighed. Of course Coil would not have wanted Ricochet to have a full sized room, particularly not looking as he did. Well it would do for now. Opening the door he stepped in ready to talk to his brother, but instead he found no-one there. He nearly slapped his hand to his helm in exasperation over his brother's disappearance at the worst possible time when he remembered that he wasn't to scratch his finish. Growling in frustration, he stalked out into the corridor. Now where could Ricochet have gotten to? The list of possibilities was dismayingly long...

No. He could not have left the family apartments, he reasoned. The guards would have mentioned it to him when he came in. So, he had to still be here. Returning to the room, he turned to the side and found that the door through to the main apartment had been unlocked. Relieved that his brother probably had not been seen publicly, he swept through the door then stopped in dismay as he realised belatedly that it was occupied.

"Lord Jazz?"

The late arrivals, Orion and Ariel, were comfortably seated in the lounging area, a small tray of confections on the table, and several attendants arrayed around the room. Why were they here? Yes, he knew there were very few spaces left, but still, wasn't this a bit much, putting minor nobility in with the family?

"Lord Orion, my apologies I didn't realise... Ric!"

It had taken him a moment to spot his brother sitting next to the tall Iaconian noble, almost hidden from view on this angle. Ricochet shot upright, looking sheepish.

"Uh, hi."

"You really shouldn't be botherin' the guests." Jazz ground out, wanting to strangle his brother.

What sort of mess had Ricochet gotten him into now? And what was Prowl going to do to both of them if this spoiled the ceremony?

"I got bored." Ricochet shrugged, then winced at Jazz's expression and ducked his head. "I'll just go back an' wait for you, hey? Um, nice t'meetcha. Bye now."

Fighting the urge for violence as Ricochet hurried past him, Jazz focused on the guests.

"Sorry for my brother's rudeness. How can I make up for this?"

"It was no bother." Orion assured him. "We had a chance for a good chat."

Jazz felt his smile slipping as he tried not to think too carefully about what Ricochet might have said to the noble.

"I'll make sure he's no bother from now on. Thank you, and good evening."

"And to you." Orion said politely, turning away.

Turning away, Jazz shut the door, then grabbed Ricochet's arm and dragged him out into the corridor.

"Come."

Striding back to his own apartment which was far enough away that he could yell without the guests hearing him, he stopped at the doorway and pointed inside.

"Jazzy..."

"Get in there."

Ricochet slunk in, and Jazz followed, closing the door.

"You were told to stay put!"

"I was hungry!"

"Then you shoulda fraggin' well starved." Jazz railed. "Do you have any idea how important it is that nothin' goes wrong in the next coupla orns?"

"Umm... no?"

"It's important!" Jazz hissed. "An' wit' the way you're lookin' it's even worse!"

"Sorry."

"Yeah. Sorry. You're always sorry. Why are you here Ric? What's happened now?"

"I dunno where t'start."

"How'bout wit'admittin' you were gamblin' again?" Jazz suggested, trying to calm himself down.

"I wasn't gamblin', it was a business arrangement."

"Legal?"

Ricochet flinched.

"It was a sure thing! I couldn't lose!"

"But y'did."

"It wasn't my fault. It woulda been fine except..."

"It's never your fault, Ric, an' that ain't the point. So what'd you lose?"

"The bar."

"Primus. What were you thinkin', bettin' that?"

"I didn't. I mean, I didn't bet it. I'm not that stupid."

Jazz crossed his arms and tilted his head a little, copying the way Prowl looked at him when he had done something he knew was stupid. Apparently it worked just as well on Ricochet.

"Okay, okay, I am that stupid, but that ain't how it happened. See, there were these guys comin' into the bar t'sell backstreet highgrade. Nothin' dangerous, but they didn't have all the right permits t'sell legally, right?"

"So you shoulda called the Enforcers."

"But they weren't causing any trouble, and they were gonna get things sorted out but they didn't have the credits for the licences so they had t'sell first so they could get it right, right? An' it was savin' me plenty, usin' their product instead o'payin' full price."

"But?"

Ricochet squirmed.

"Well they didn't have the same sort of quality control - couldn't afford the testin' equipment, y'know? So sometimes it was a bit weak, an' mecha complained, an' I had t'give out extra, an' sometimes it was a bit too strong. I tried t'test each batch before it got served but we got busy an' I forgot an' someone served a bad batch to some of Hailstorm's crew."

Jazz's pump nearly stopped. Hailstorm was one of the biggest ganglords in Iacon. While he had been in Iacon he had helped Ricochet keep that sort out of the bar as much as he could.

"They were okay," Ricochet continued quickly, "it was just weak. Anyway, he said I owed him, so I had to pay up. Only I didn't have enough to pay and then he said he had another way for me to pay. That if I'd take the mods and do a job for him, we'd be even."

"Ric, for pit's sake, what'd you agree t'do?"

"It wasn't about fraggin'! Well, not really. See, he wanted someone for bait. The Enforcers were on to one of his businesses an' he was tryin' to distract'em while he moved some stuff about. All I had to do was go out there an' distract one o'the surveillance teams, an' that'd give him time t'do what he needed. Except..."

"Except it didn't work, did it?" Jazz ground out.

Primus his brother was slow sometimes. Ricochet squirmed at the guess.

"Not really. The first officer took one look at me and arrested me, but he didn't take me away straight away - he called for back up. So there were more Enforcers there. An' a couple of'em recognised me from that trouble I had a few vorns ago, so they knew who I was an' that made'em more suspicious so they searched the whole place an' found a whole lotta stuff that Hailstorm really didn't want'em t'find. They let me go, but then Hailstorm said I owed him, an' I gotta pay up by the end o'the decaorn but meantime he's taken my bar as collatoral. So all I need's a little loan, I'll pay it back, you know the bar's good for it..."

"I don't have any money I can give ya, Ric."

"Look, I know I said I wouldn't get myself messed up like this again, but I swear this is the last time. I just need to get outta this fix."

"Praxus is broke."

"Aw come on - I've seen the preparations, you're about to have a big-aft party!"

"Yeah, an' we've gone well into debt t'make it happen."

"So what's just a little more? I bet you're spendin' more on energon than I need t'pay this debt."

Jazz noticed that a figure hadn't yet been named, which suggested that it was a much larger sum than Ricochet wanted to admit to, but that wasn't the point. Praxus truly was short of credits.

"Ain't happenin'. We've borrowed ev'ry cred we can."

Ricochet changed tack.

"Okay so Praxus can't help me, but you've got money. Look at where you're livin'!"

Jazz shook his head.

"This place is part o'the debt. We don't own it yet. We don't have any money of our own, ev'rythin' goes straight into the rebuild."

"Then how're you paying all those fancy servants?"

"We're not. Right now they're workin' outta loyalty an' the hope that things'll sort themselves out in a decade or two."

In fact the situation wasn't quite that dire but he did have to get his brother to understand. This time the problem was too big and Jazz's options were too limited.

"But you can't just say that!" Ricochet argued, horrified.

Jazz stopped listening, hearing a soft chime indicating that one of the servants wanted his attention. Ignoring his brother, he went to the door to find one of Coil's assistants standing outside.

"Sir, Lord Prowl wishes to speak with you by comm call. He is waiting."

"Thanks, Swivel. Ric, stay here. I mean it - no more wandering about. I'll be back soon."

What had gone wrong now he wondered as he hurried through to Prowl's office. His mate had not been planning to call tonight so something must have changed. Sitting down at the desk, he accepted the call and found his sparkmate looking anxious. Yes, something was definitely wrong. And Prowl did not begin with any pleasantries, merely set in on what was bothering him.

"I'm hearing you have a..." Prowl paused, apparently choosing his words carefully, "...a berth companion of low standing staying in our apartments."

Jazz relaxed, relieved that it was something already under control.

"Wow, the rumour mill really does work fast!"

Well, sort of under control. Had Orion already made comment back to Iacon? What the frag had Ricochet said to him? He focused again as Prowl's optics flashed with annoyance.

"Now is not the time for word games. What is going on?"

"It's nothin' scandalous, babe, it's just Ric come to visit."

The news obviously caught Prowl by surprise and the anger left his expression for a moment before being replaced by sharp suspicion.

"What has he done now?"

"He's got himself into a bit of a fix."

"I'm sure. Jazz, his timing is more than simply unfortunate, we cannot afford a scandal. And why precisely do mecha believe he is so unsavoury?"

"He... well, he ended up gettin' some mods. Not by choice. Part of the mess he's in."

"Then I suggest that he has those modifications removed with haste, or that he leaves Praxus until the festival is over."

"You know Ric, Kohlie, he ain't got any money t'get the mods reversed. An' I've already told'im we don't either. As for leavin'... well he's in trouble..."

"And you are committed to resolving his problems yet again." Prowl sighed.

"Yeah. Well, tryin' to."

Prowl simply stared at him and Jazz squirmed.

"Sorry." he added. "Forgive me?"

His mate tilted his head to the side, smiling faintly.

"Of course you are forgiven. How can I hold against you the very trait that convinced me to seek you out when all hope seemed lost?" He paused, then straightened his posture. "Ensure he understands that it is very important that he not cause any more of a stir than he has already. I will be home tomorrow evening and then we will discuss the details."

"Long orn ahead?" Jazz asked sympathetically.

Prowl gave a faint smile.

"The life of a noble is rarely as interesting or care free as the masses would believe."

"Don't I know it! Love you, Kohlie."

"As I love you. Just keep your brother under control and out of sight!"

The evening session had been interminable, with mech after mech alluding to his mate's infidelity and the poor omen it was during such a critical time. He supposed he should be grateful to Jaspar for bringing the matter to his attention before he was faced with the onslaught, but mostly he just felt tired, and that weariness had not abated by the time he was sitting in the Conclave chamber the next morning.

He had been raised to understand and even enjoy the delicate politics of this company, though it had been unlikely that Rapidfire would ever advance to such an exalted state. He had never been intended to be the primary of the relationship, and yet it was part of the training to be a steady and intelligent support, so he was confident enough in his role. In the circumstances, he could not be better prepared, and he was holding his own, making connections and appropriate steps towards alliances.

The problem was, he was bored.

The constant manipulations and hidden meanings no longer seemed as clever as they had before, now they just seemed petty and immature. The life he had lived in Iacon had been so much richer. Some mecha he had met there had been friends for long stretches of their life without either party gaining significantly from the relationship. Such was simply not possible amongst the nobility, there was always the fight to gain more power, to get an advantage, to move up.

He missed Jazz desperately. Strange to think it, but this was the longest they had been separated since he had arrived on Jazz's doorstep after his disgrace. During his 'youth' as Echo they had had separate berthrooms, but they had lived in the same dwelling, and since his official majority they had not had a night apart. It was bothering him more than he had expected it to, and this current situation was not helping.

What was going on with Ricochet? And what effect would it have on Praxus's fortunes in the coming vorns? The fifth anniversary of investiture was merely ceremonial in one sense - harking back to the ancient concept that five was the number of evil and that if anything were to go wrong it would happen on that date - but it was critical to how a city state was perceived by others. Praxus was in so poor a condition, any otherwise trivial matter could become a major incident and do long term damage to its reputation.

He checked his chronometer, not paying attention as the Prime's seneshal droned on about the current purchasing trends for heavy metals. Three more joors then he could begin to make his departure. The sooner he was on site and able to take control of all this for himself, the better.

"Are you well, Caretaker?"

The question caught him by surprise and he looked down to see Bluestreak looking up at him.

"Sure, I'm fine. You enjoyin' yourself?"

Bluestreak's doorwings twitched in humour.

"You're not supposed to enjoy it." he declared. "It's politics. Who speaks to whom, when, and who notices. That's what matters."

" 'Whom', eh? How'd you get to be so smart?"

"Programming, of course. And lots of tutoring. You know, you could sit in on some of my lessons, I'm sure Caretaker Prowl would think it was a great idea."

"Yeah, well maybe." Jazz allowed dubiously, deciding he would have to come up with some good excuses or else Prowl might insist.

His gaze drifted back outside and Bluestreak strained upwards on his pedes.

"What are you looking at?"

"Ain't what I'm lookin' at, it's who I'm lookin' for." Jazz corrected him. "Prowl should be here soon." An' the sooner the better."

"I miss him too." Bluestreak admitted. "But he'll be here. And you said you wouldn't use that word this decaorn, remember? You're supposed to be taking more care with your language."

"I ain't doin' it wit' anyone but you." Jazz said deliberately, grinning, then turned back towards the crowd behind him. "Alright. One more time. Gonna come protect me?"

Bluestreak giggled and took his hand and they moved back into the throng.

A slight delay meant he did not have time to do anything but head straight from the shuttle to the commencement of the main ceremony, but that was fine. He joined Jazz up on the podium and gave a brief speech, then they watched the crystal dance which was expertly done if still somewhat simple due to the rather immature state of the garden. The priests gave their blessing and presented him and Jazz with the pronouncement from the prophets at Vector Sigma: that Praxus would recover under their steady guidance, and that it would be all the stronger for its new diversity.

Official events over and done with, the guests now wanted to continue the mingling and politicking they had been enjoying for the past two orns in his absence. They also wanted news from Iacon, and so he found himself the centre of attention. Not entirely a bad thing, and he reminded himself of that frequently, even though all he truly wanted to do was catch up with Jazz and Bluestreak and get some rest.

Jazz was doing wonderfully well given his inexperience, he mused fondly as his mate correctly presented guest after guest to him. Prowl already knew most of them, but it was better that Jazz was taking an active role. They gradually moved through the crowd until Prowl was faced with a pair he did not actually recognise. By their appearance he judged them to be Iaconian, but they were certainly no-one he had met before.

"Ah, an' here's Lord Orion an' his partner Ariel."

Prowl froze for the merest fraction of a click at the name that had been on everyone's lips back in Iacon, then he bowed low.

"Lord Orion. We are deeply honoured by your presence."

There was a major stir in the crowd but he ignored it, staying in position for a full six click count before straightening again.

"So that news has been broken, then." Orion mused. "It seems we will no longer be travelling unremarked."

"There was a great deal of interest in you at the Conclave, with many certain that you would arrive before the end. Prime mentioned to me that he had sent someone here in his place, but I had not connected the two pieces of data."

"Sentinel thinks well of you." Orion nodded placidly. "He wishes more could have been done to prevent what occurred here, and if not then more should have been done to assist. I have heard him speak of Praxus many times, and so when the Conclave coincided with this, I asked him if I may come here in his place. And it seems he is right. This is a remarkably resilient and tolerant city. I look forward to visiting it again and watching the progress towards restoration."

"We look forward to your future visits." Prowl nodded, dipping his doorwings politely in preparation to move away, but it seemed Orion had not quite finished.

"We will be leaving tonight, we need to return to Iacon now that my change in status is known, but I would ask a favour of Lord Jazz: I would like to take your brother Ricochet back with us."

Prowl looked at his mate who had frozen up, then Jazz managed a weak smile.

"Oh, no need for that. We'll get'im home."

"It's no trouble." Ariel spoke up. "We had such an interesting chat with him last night, and this ownership matter with his business is best cleared up by Iaconian authorities rather than involving Praxus."

"Ricochet finds himself in unfortunate circumstances on an alarmingly regular basis." Prowl spoke up. "We are accustomed to assisting him in his troubles."

"And again you show tolerance that is sadly lacking in so many others." Orion smiled at him warmly. "But I must insist. It is unacceptable that such things could happen in the Prime's city. Something needs to be done, and this will be my first official action, with your brother's testimony as the first link in the evidence chain I must compile. Good evening to you, and farewell."

Prowl bowed again, noticing this time that Jazz copied him, as did many of the others around them.

"Okay, so who the frag is he?" Jazz murmured as conversations started up again.

"He is the Prime-elect." Prowl said clearly, intending to be overheard. "We are blessed by his presence. Which is good," he added much more softly as the room buzzed with the news, "because it sounds like your brother nearly spoiled the whole thing."

"If he wasn't leavin' right now I'd be up there stranglin' him." Jazz muttered, then laughed. "But ain't it just like Ric t'squeak through anyway?"

Prowl looked at him flatly.

"Ain't." he echoed.

Jazz winced.

"Look, I haven't slipped the whole time you've been gone except one time wit' Blue an' then talkin' to Ric, but Ric ain't the same... uh... Sorry?"

Prowl glared at him for a moment more, then relented. Jazz was who he was, and if it didn't bother Sentinel or Orion, then why should it bother him? Struck by a moment of whimsy now that the pressure was off, he prepared his words very carefully before speaking.

"Relax, I ain't mad or nothin'."

Jazz gaped at him, and Prowl laughed, linking arms with him.

"You've done well, my Jazz, and our future as leaders of Praxus is secure. And I suppose in retrospect it would not be our celebration if everything had gone perfectly to plan."

Jazz grinned.

"Guess not. But now we'd better talk to some more guests, right?"

Prowl was surprised.

"Yes, indeed we should."

"Course. Because until we've talked to'em all we can't disappear, right?"

Prowl relaxed. Everything was normal.

"Indeed. Come along, we'll get started."