The Guild structure on Aldaban was complex, ruled by marriage, succession and family relations. The three major Guilds, Technologists, Welfare and Primary Production, controlled much of the world, but over it all sat the Principate. Voting rights within each guild varied, and they changed with each new succession, making it hard to keep track from season to season, but always there was the Guildmaster. As a Guild decided, the Guildmaster relayed its decisions to the Principate. No change could be enforced without the approval of the Principal and it was up to the Guildmaster to negotiate that approval. There was a long history to the Guilds' structure, echoing the way things were run on the vast colony ship Paradise that originally cast its human seed upon Aldaban's hostile ground. Technicians, Medical, Psyche, Supply, all had been run traditionally along family lines, and over all had sat the Officer corps, led in turn by the Captain. Principal Leannis Men Darnak could trace his origins back to the first Captain. Sandon sadly, could trace no such lineage.
And here, now, the Principal, Captain to Aldaban's entire population, was about to withdraw his firm hand. The very prospect made Sandon nervous. Men Darnak's children were individuals in their own right, but between them, they had a lot to learn. History, tradition were what really ruled but sometimes history and tradition required a little nudge. There was nothing in any of the children to disturb the way the Guilds functioned. Sandon wasn't particularly worried about losing his own role, certain that his services would be in demand, especially if Men Darnak wanted to maintain his influence. The old man relied on Sandon to be his eyes and ears behind the scenes. Sandon Yl Aris knew the way things worked, the key people, what moved them and motivated them. That knowledge would be crucial to a smooth transition of power.
A stir from the side hall interrupted Sandon's musings. Two uniformed functionaries entered from the passageway and stepped briskly to either side of the door. Moments later, Principal Leannis Men Darnak, tall and bearded swept into the hall. His ceremonial robes flowed about him. He strode up the steps to a table positioned at the center of the dais at the chamber's front. A halo of white hair floated about his head, flowing out behind. He walked confidently across the podium, stopped behind the table, and scanned the faces of the assembly, as if counting them, fixing one or two with his pale stare before moving on. Someone toward the back of the room coughed. Men Darnak glanced in that direction, narrowed his eyes, then looked back toward the passageway. He was still an imposing figure, thought Sandon. He might be old, but the strength was still there, the presence; it made no sense for him to be talking about retirement yet. Still, it was sometimes hard to fathom the way the Principal's mind worked, and well beyond Sandon's place to question it.
Men Darnak waited, watching. Then, at last, he nodded briefly to one of the functionaries by the entrance and the man made a signal down the corridor. A brief moment later, and one by one, Men Darnak's children filed into the room. They each bore the pallid complexion and high cheekbones characteristic of the Men Darnak line. Leading the group was Roge, the eldest boy. He walked purposefully into the room, stopped to adjust his dark blue tunic, paused, caught Karryl Ky Menin's eye and gave a brief nod. Then he moved to the front of the crowd and stood, his arms crossed over his chest, as he faced the dais. Guildmaster Ky Menin had given no sign recognizing the acknowledgement. Interesting. Sandon glanced down briefly at his own suit, making sure there was nothing out of place.
Next came Karin, the daughter, her honey-brown hair bound in an elaborate knot at the back of her head. She walked self-confidently into the chamber and moved to take up position beside her husband, the portly Yosset Clier. She stood a good head taller than her husband, and wore an intricately carved ajura wood wedding bracelet on her wrist, matching the one on Clier's own. She barely glanced at her husband, and took up position half a step forward, her imperious gaze fixed on her father. Sandon cursed silently. She had partially obscured his view of the fat little, Guildsman--he didn't want to draw attention to himself by moving now. The children themselves were good indicators, but he needed to monitor the reactions of those within the Guilds themselves. With a grimace, he turned his attention to the last arrival.
