“Marcos Jao, Global Outlook. Thank you for your time, Lord Marmaduke—my questions are for the group.”
Matt stepped back with a small nod, pleased to see a server returning with a tray of oversized sweet teas—Angelina, Floyd, Dave, and Annie trailing behind without any additional reporters. The music shifted again in the background, drifting from jazz to neo-swing, and now settling into an easy folk rock groove. In the softening twilight, the gathering began to feel more like a summer celebration than a press event.
“Captain K’rem, you swore fealty in a ceremony broadcast around the world. Since then, public interest has shifted from ritual to results. What concrete changes have you seen since becoming part of House Marmaduke?”
K’rem didn’t rush. He gave the reporter a thoughtful look before answering.
“House T’all had been without a lord for several generations—without a high lord for even longer. I felt it was time we renew ourselves as a clan.”
He paused, letting the words settle.
“That act has done more for us—our pride, our cohesion—than it’s changed anything about our working relationship with Matt.”
A few V’ren raised their eyebrows at that, but K’rem smiled toward Matt, who merely sipped his tea and returned the look with quiet satisfaction.
“I realized after swearing fealty,” K’rem added, “that he’d already been working just as hard for us without the title. That’s what makes him worthy of being a V’ren Lord.”
“Navan Rell, your aquifer mapping project has drawn attention from global sustainability agencies. With Earth’s water politics still tense, are you under pressure to export knowledge—or restrict it?”
Navan glanced briefly at Matt, who gave a small shrug and handed her one of the sweet teas.
“We haven’t really discussed it in detail,” she said honestly. “He told me to answer any reporters’ questions if they came around—or send them in—and not to worry about restrictions for now. If the volume gets too high, I’ve got support from his communications team to help triage the most critical requests.”
She took a sip and added, “I hope my work continues to be useful. Once this project is stabilized, I’d love to apply what I’ve learned to other regions.”
“Drien Corvos, given your role in coordinating disease protocols, how are you balancing V’ren medical knowledge with human trust—especially in a world still recovering from the trauma of failed biotech and pandemic governance?”
Drien stood calmly, his hands folded loosely in front of him. His voice was steady, practiced, and warm.
“I hope our knowledge proves valuable. I’ve received a substantial number of inquiries from international bodies and independent researchers. But—as Matthew is fond of reminding us—we’re only effective when we’re well-rested.”
He nodded toward Matt in quiet agreement.
“I’ll get to those requests in time. Thankfully, I have a very capable assistant—Kerry—who’s become quite skilled at screening, condensing, and routing them. She’s already learned which of our team specializes in what and has been handing off questions accordingly.”
His tone softened slightly. “She’s a delight to work with. I believe she and her husband are currently over at the putt-putt tournament across the road, enjoying the evening. As instructed.”
Matt straightened as the server gave the quiet cue.
“They’re calling us to tables,” he said, casually taking charge.
