Empire in Black and Gold by Adrian Tchaikovsky

conversation waned and the Assembly waited as footsteps approached from the anteroom outside the hall. Two sentinels strode in, faceless in their helms, their heavy armour giving them a rolling gait. And there, behind them, were the Wasps.
    Oh they had clearly learned a lot. Stenwold had seen the delegation sent to Myna, all armed threat and demands. Here, however, they wooed the Assembly with a show of imitation, for what else would best feed Collegium’s ego? Their leader, square-jawed and fair, wore a decent approximation of the College’s own ceremonial robes, with an intricate design of black and yellow interlocking along the folds. He even carried the hem of it partly slung over one arm, as a native would. There were three behind him, and one was obviously a guard: no sword at his belt, but there were barbed spurs of bone jutting forward from the backs of his hands. He held himself in a casual, relaxed pose that Stenwold recognized from watching alert military the world over. Unlike his master he wore a plain white tunic, almost the garb of a simple servant or slave. The man next to him wore the same garment, but held himself quite differently. Stenwold was a better observer than most, for he had been taught by a Spider-kinden long ago, and realized that this other man, for all his standing in the shadow of his fellows, was the one in charge. Stenwold saw it at once, from the way he watched his fellows closely, and the way they did not dare look at him.
    The fourth ambassador was their master stroke. He wore a pale yellow tunic with a black sash, and he was a Beetle, a man of middle years and benign expression who could have made a home in Collegium without anyone turning a sidelong glance at him. This was no local, though: he was clearly an Imperial. We are like you , the Empire was saying, and only Stenwold knew how untrue it was.
    Old Lineo Thadspar came forward with his hands clasped before him, a gesture of welcome that the lead Wasp copied smoothly.
    ‘Noble visitors from distant lands,’ he began, ‘may we show you as much honour in our welcome as you have shown us in attending our Great Games.’
    ‘What more honour could any wish than to be permitted to show our mettle against the best of this city and its neighbours?’ The lead Wasp smiled about him at the curious onlookers. ‘May I humbly present myself as God-ran, ambassador designate from our lands to your august Assembly. Thalric here is my chief aide, and able to speak my heart as well as I myself.’ He indicated the man whom Stenwold had already picked as the true commander. Of course he can , the historian thought. Better, even.
    ‘However, I suspect you may be more inclined to speak to my friend Honory Bellowern,’ continued the smoothly smiling Godran, as the Beetle-kinden stepped forward. Stenwold, watching for it, saw the glance the Beetle gave to Thalric as he did so. ‘My friend’, is it? Master Bellowern had best be word perfect , he judged, or his diplomatic career shall be a short one.
    ‘Noble councillors of Collegium,’ said Honory Bellowern in a rich, pleasant voice, ‘I bring you greetings from the Consortium of the Honest, of which I am a factor. Already we have profited greatly from such dealings as we have had with Collegium, and I hope your brothers in Helleron have had no cause for complaint either. While men of more athletic stature shall take to the games, I hope there shall be those amongst you who will spare me the time to talk of such matters as trade agreements, diplomatic ties, terms and treaties and the like. Now that we find ourselves reaching out into the world, we are keen to formalize the bonds of friendship and prosperity between your Lowlands and the Empire.’
    And Stenwold noticed a twitch in Thalric then, and realized that word, ‘Empire’, had not been spoken before, just ‘our lands’ and similar terms. A mis-step for Master Bellowern, then, but not a fatal one, for the mere mention of trade had