Vela stood beside her Empress's throne. Her usual armor was black, but was now covered in a white robe (http://fc05.deviantart.net/fs71/i/2011/135/6/f/white_kimono_and_hakama_by_tolmancotton-d3gdlwg.jpg), which parted in the middle. She was dressed very much unlike the other guards, save for her sisters. Her sheathed sword was held in her left hand, as she watched the Prince approach.<br/><br/>Vela remained unimpressed, by the prince, or by his words. It was a deep rooted belief that drove this disapproval. She imagined that the Nesstren men had failed to assume their rightful place, under the boot heels of Nesstren women. It did not help, that they made slaves of them, either. ultimately though, it was that they did not serve the Empress that drew most of her ire.<br/><br/>She had not, understood, why the Empress commanded them all to be clothed. While it was true that she most often was, simply because it helped her in her duties, she would have either worn something clear, or bared as much skin as possible, on a formal occasion. Now she felt stifled by the garment she wore. Still, she believed it for the best, as she did with every command she recieved.<br/><br/>She held a little hope that the next command she recieved would be to collect the Prince's head, but didn't think it likely. It was a shame, she thought, that he was a prince. She would've preferred him as a slave, and not only because he would then have been in his rightful place.<br/><br/>Vela would hold her tongue, wishing she could tell him that his empty worlds were insufficient to honor the Empress. That he should prostrate himself, and offer up his life, if the Emoress wished for it. Of course, Vela was a soldier, and politics was something she did only with a sword.