I forgot to post an adventure seed last Friday. So, here's one. I'm thinking I may have made a mistake in the ages again, but whatever. It's fiction. Roll with it 
Or, if you get inspired for a gaming session, then season to taste. Corrections and constructive feedback are welcome
Date;
Year 1102
Place;
Delphi
Anaxias subsector
Anaxias system (hex 1724)
Floating palace of her excellency, Grand Duchess Margaret Yetrina Tukera, princess of the Imperium.
SitRep;
Stripped of everything save the clothes on your back and the shoes on your feet (yes, you have socks), you are herded aboard a caravan of stretch armored luxury enclosed air rafts, escorted by G-carriers and a few grave belt troops.
After a twenty minute flight you reach the opulent sky bound terrace of duchess Tukera. There some of her palace guard and her chief of staff greet you and the landing, and escort you to her Excellency’s audience chamber, a cathedral like room with ornate etched glass through which shafts of light brightly illuminates tasteful opulence. Outside massive mountainous storm clouds move against a passive and brightly lit blue sky. Her excellency likes both rain and sun, and often commands weather control to create rainbows at her pleasure. She also supports the local poor farming community made up of farmers who have failed on their home parcels of land throughout her domain, and are brought here to start anew—once having gotten back on their feet, they are then transplanted to a new estate of their own on some world to call home.
You gawk at the surroundings. Anyone who’s tried to smuggle in a concealed weapon will find it missing … how?! Chairs are offered, and footmen in traditional costume offer you bowls of fruit. One of your party asks for something called “pizza snacks”. The staff frowns and looks down their collective noses at the offender. But, fear not, the chief of the household palace staff raises his loosely clenched fist, and snaps his fingers. Moments later piping hot pizza snacks, though they are delivered with a few disapproving grunts from footmen, butlers and maids alike.
Then, she enters, again more escorts. With grace and beauty she sits, as if about to command a thousand ships to a fate unknown and predetermined. The rumble of thunder, and a faint flash of lightening briefly illuminates the clouds in the distance.
“I beg forgiveness for asking you here.” She begins, “But your, ahem, colorful reputation precedes you, and I have need of such a band as you..”
She looks away, wistful, as if delving into an archive of another time, another place. Of someone or something long gone and close to her.
“My husband is away on a goodwill tour. Last I heard he was touring the Heriate. However, a close friend…” she clears her throat, “I have known since childhood, has gone missing. I have commanded law enforcement here and abroad to give the matter some attention without foregoing their duties, but naught has resulted.
“He is…” her voice trails off, “…a Solomani.” She awaits your reaction. “A Terran.” She confirms before continuing. “A man unlike any other at his majesties court. We have…” again, her voice stalls, as if bottling up some deep emotion, “…known one another, and met from time to time as my schedule, and his, permit. He is close to me, if you understand. He has the command of this palace in my absence.
“My loyal subjects are bound by honor and law to uphold my standard and my law. It being so there are occasions where I find my forces and other operatives cannot prevail against his majesties edicts. So, if a loyal subject of mine, particularly one close to this household, has transgressed in another noble’s space, I cannot act without their consent.” She pauses and levels a cool gaze at you all, “I understand that you have no such compunction.”
She continues, “Arthur, my childhood friend, fancies himself an archeologist. He was on an extended excursion, meant to last no longer than a year, but … word has come that he has vanished while searching the Ancient ruins on Xulfor in Srys.
“I have no quarrel with Kieran Langos Adair, archduke of the Sol domain. Our houses are not in conflict, but he does retain certain aspirations made known to all, and often uses political captives for show trials to further his political ends. Even to the point of trying to drive a wedge between me and my cousin.
“I cannot send in a force to extract my belo—my childhood friend. To do so would endanger him, and give Adair the fuel and leverage he needs to let his rhetoric burn among the masses and the moot.”
Again, the very pragmatic gaze is cast upon you all.
“I understand that you are experts in such matters. If you accept, you will be granted considerable financial return, as well as clemency for transgressions here and abroad. How you retrieve him….” She clears her throat, “…is your affair.”
Are the adventurers interested?
Or, if you get inspired for a gaming session, then season to taste. Corrections and constructive feedback are welcomeDate;
Year 1102
Place;
Delphi
Anaxias subsector
Anaxias system (hex 1724)
Floating palace of her excellency, Grand Duchess Margaret Yetrina Tukera, princess of the Imperium.
SitRep;
Stripped of everything save the clothes on your back and the shoes on your feet (yes, you have socks), you are herded aboard a caravan of stretch armored luxury enclosed air rafts, escorted by G-carriers and a few grave belt troops.
After a twenty minute flight you reach the opulent sky bound terrace of duchess Tukera. There some of her palace guard and her chief of staff greet you and the landing, and escort you to her Excellency’s audience chamber, a cathedral like room with ornate etched glass through which shafts of light brightly illuminates tasteful opulence. Outside massive mountainous storm clouds move against a passive and brightly lit blue sky. Her excellency likes both rain and sun, and often commands weather control to create rainbows at her pleasure. She also supports the local poor farming community made up of farmers who have failed on their home parcels of land throughout her domain, and are brought here to start anew—once having gotten back on their feet, they are then transplanted to a new estate of their own on some world to call home.
You gawk at the surroundings. Anyone who’s tried to smuggle in a concealed weapon will find it missing … how?! Chairs are offered, and footmen in traditional costume offer you bowls of fruit. One of your party asks for something called “pizza snacks”. The staff frowns and looks down their collective noses at the offender. But, fear not, the chief of the household palace staff raises his loosely clenched fist, and snaps his fingers. Moments later piping hot pizza snacks, though they are delivered with a few disapproving grunts from footmen, butlers and maids alike.
Then, she enters, again more escorts. With grace and beauty she sits, as if about to command a thousand ships to a fate unknown and predetermined. The rumble of thunder, and a faint flash of lightening briefly illuminates the clouds in the distance.
“I beg forgiveness for asking you here.” She begins, “But your, ahem, colorful reputation precedes you, and I have need of such a band as you..”
She looks away, wistful, as if delving into an archive of another time, another place. Of someone or something long gone and close to her.
“My husband is away on a goodwill tour. Last I heard he was touring the Heriate. However, a close friend…” she clears her throat, “I have known since childhood, has gone missing. I have commanded law enforcement here and abroad to give the matter some attention without foregoing their duties, but naught has resulted.
“He is…” her voice trails off, “…a Solomani.” She awaits your reaction. “A Terran.” She confirms before continuing. “A man unlike any other at his majesties court. We have…” again, her voice stalls, as if bottling up some deep emotion, “…known one another, and met from time to time as my schedule, and his, permit. He is close to me, if you understand. He has the command of this palace in my absence.
“My loyal subjects are bound by honor and law to uphold my standard and my law. It being so there are occasions where I find my forces and other operatives cannot prevail against his majesties edicts. So, if a loyal subject of mine, particularly one close to this household, has transgressed in another noble’s space, I cannot act without their consent.” She pauses and levels a cool gaze at you all, “I understand that you have no such compunction.”
She continues, “Arthur, my childhood friend, fancies himself an archeologist. He was on an extended excursion, meant to last no longer than a year, but … word has come that he has vanished while searching the Ancient ruins on Xulfor in Srys.
“I have no quarrel with Kieran Langos Adair, archduke of the Sol domain. Our houses are not in conflict, but he does retain certain aspirations made known to all, and often uses political captives for show trials to further his political ends. Even to the point of trying to drive a wedge between me and my cousin.
“I cannot send in a force to extract my belo—my childhood friend. To do so would endanger him, and give Adair the fuel and leverage he needs to let his rhetoric burn among the masses and the moot.”
Again, the very pragmatic gaze is cast upon you all.
“I understand that you are experts in such matters. If you accept, you will be granted considerable financial return, as well as clemency for transgressions here and abroad. How you retrieve him….” She clears her throat, “…is your affair.”
Are the adventurers interested?
