Duke Vincent D'Ambrosio of House D'Ambrosio is in the Imperial Palace in Hartford, Connecticut (in a magical Blossom which is also named Hartford). He does not want to be there, for reasons which more-or-less require him to be there: he's fighting the fine associated with placing that curse on Serrah Delany. Fortunately, for today at least, he has no need to be there any longer. He is, in fact descending to the ground floor in an elevator this very minute. Of course, it's going to take him several moments to get there; he started on floor 198 of 250, after all.

Just as he notices that he's alone in the elevator, and that it hasn't stopped for anyone to get on in several minutes ... the elevator slows to a stop, and the doors open. Vincent stiffens up. "Y-your Imperial Majesty!"

Emperor Jeremy Hartford I steps onto the elevator with an easygoing smile. "Hey, Vincent, my man!" He claps his hand onto Vincent's shoulder. "My dude, my pal, my bro ..." He claps his other hand onto Vincent's other shoulder, surreptitiously sliding his first hand off so he can clap it back on again. "... my homie, my friendo, my ... palomino ..." He stops. "... Is it 'my palomino' or 'pal o' mine'?"

"Isn't a palomino a horse?" says Vincent.

"Right, right, so, pal o' mine, then," says His Imperial Majesty. "So, y'know." He shoots Vincent a fangy grin. "How goes the battle?"

Vincent hasn't been able to sweat in the thirty-nine years since he became a vampire, but he nevertheless knows the feeling. "I'm afraid it is very ... regrettable."

"Yeah, no shit," says Emperor Hartford. He looks Vincent up and down. "Okay, first, I wanna say that this entire situation is hilarious. Grabbing human woman out of the rabble, turning her, making her a Countess, and then requiring that she go through you to actually use any of her power?" He slaps Vincent's back. "That's excellent That's great."

Vincent smiles nervously. "I'm glad you're enjoying the show, Your Majesty!"

"Buuuuuuuuuuut." Emperor Hartford looks at Vincent sidelong. "Vinny, I gotta say ... to a certain degree, all the nobility of the Hartford Empire are kind of a pain to deal with. But for the most part, Vinny my dude?" He shrugs. "You are each worth so much more."

Vincent sputters. "Oh, I would never dream of causing trouble for your Imperial Majesty!" he says. "My only aim is to serve the Empire and --"

"Oh, stop, that's the kind of shit we scare the rabble into saying," says Vincent playfully. "You're a goddamn Duke of the Hartford Empire, Vince. The Empire exists for our benefit, not the other way around."

Vincent loses steam. "I ... I see, Your Majesty."

Emperor Hartford puts his arm around Vincent's shoulders. "And, of course, the laws exist for our benefit, too," he says. "The fines for breaking the laws are designed specifically so that they're a drop in a bucket. You don't even notice 'em."

At this point, Vincent has completely track of where the conversation is going. "I-indeed, Your Majesty?"

"So when one of you tries to fight these laws-which-were-made-for-your-benefit," the Emperor continues, "why, I gotta say I feel kind of ... unappreciated." Suddenly, all the humor is gone from his voice and expression. "Like you're biting the hand that feeds you, y'know what I'm saying? You're working against the system which is supposed to benefit you." He looks Vincent dead in the eye. "And I know it can't be about the money, because it's only three hundred grand. Your investment portfolio made more than that in the past week." He raises his eyebrows. "Which means that if you keep the fight up for more than a goddamn month, and spend four hundred grand and counting on legal fees, the only possible explanation is that you're fighting the Empire on general principles."

"... ah." Vincent hesitates, not quite sure where to go. He isn't permanently dead yet, so he knows there's a correct answer. Wilhelmina would likely have a snappy remark that pushed him in the right direction. But sometimes, every so often, Vincent actually occasionally recognizes the limits of his intelligence, and right now, in the midst of a mild panic in front of the Emperor, he doesn't know what's required of him.

Jeremy's hand grips Vincent's shoulder tightly. "Vincent, you are currently exactly as much trouble as you are worth. You don't want to swing all the way to bein' more trouble than you're worth. If you do ..." He closes his other hand into a fist, as if holding something long and sharp, and mimes jabbing it into Vincent's chest.

And then, suddenly, the Emperor relaxes with a thin-lipped smile. "Just pay the damn fine, Vinny!" he says. "Like I said, you can handle it. Maybe try spending it on something more productive, like the World Tree business."

"Of course, your majesty!" says Vincent automatically. Okay, whew. That is something he can do, now that he knows the ... stakes.

Jeremy nods and gives Vincent a thumbs-up as the elevator doors open to an office hallway. "Best of luck in catching Delany, Vinny, and in all your other endeavors!" he says, gliding out backwards an inch above the ground. "Remember, excellence is a choice!"

Vincent actually smiles. "Certainly, Your Majesty!" he says as the doors close.

And then he looks over the floor number light.

Which currently says "B2."

As the elevator goes up too floors back to the palace's lobby, Vincent's expression manages to be simultaneously sour and terrified.