Even though the Giants were one of the forefront races of creation—second only to the Cherubs which patrolled Heaven's streets—their society was surprisingly simple. Like the Almighty's Bureau of Judgmental Affairs, their government was spearheaded by a select group of privileged persons known as the Buried Council. This congress consisted of a handful of influential Giants who were responsible for guiding the masses and maintaining proper relations with the other realms. As a civilization that prided itself on its architecture and technology, its social structure mostly boiled down to a basic meritocracy. Those with adequate skill quickly rose to the top caste and were encouraged to aid in the development of their less fortunate fellows; in this manner, every citizen helped one another climb the proverbial ladder.
As a celebration of their forefathers laying the Universe's first stones, once every year, on the eve of the summer solstice, crowds took to the streets for a hearty night of merrymaking. Alcohol flowed through the gutters like rivers in the densest towns while the warm and inviting sound of laughter filled the air. This holiday, Bauenfest, was among the Giants' most beloved traditions. Tales of its wild festivals were common topics in bars throughout God's kingdom, especially within Heaven's poor sectors. Judges, in particular, frequented the Giants' stalls during their rare breaks, making Bauenfest one of the most diverse events of the season.
This global party also served as a major source of the Buried Council's income. Tourists from across the stars traveled great distances to partake in their quality goods, injecting the Giants' economy with a mindboggling amount of capital. Politicians were quick to take advantage of this and stood alongside bribed vendors to sway potential voters and otherworldly investors. During Bauenfest, all it took was one lucky payday to pave one's way to greatness. Plus, it was a much-needed moment of rest for ambitious members of the bureaucracy, like Griswold Mapp. He started this holiday in high spirits and was looking forward to his brief vacation. Elections this past year had been rough, especially with all the chaos that the summit brought about. Ever since then, the Drakes had been hounding his office's telephone almost every day. Thankfully, at least for now, he could put those worries aside.
"Excuse me, sir, but may I have one of those?" Griswold asked a passing merchant who was carrying an armful of papers. "I wonder if that proposal I made with the Drakes' ambassador went well," he thought. With a pint of lager in hand, he made his way down the main road while reading the news. Most of the day's columns were about the festivities, but there were a few international stories here and there. "Oh? That woman's on here." A small section on the back was a brief biography of a familiar face: Zia Lombardi—a small-time diplomat from Paradise's slums. It seemed that her impressive showing at the last summit had garnered her some deserved attention. "If I'm not mistaken, the Templar was with her and her cronies for quite a while. I'm certain the old heads back in Heaven weren't too happy about that." As a Giant, he was a bit uninformed when it came to the Bureau's politics, but he had a general idea of how it all worked.
"You've got to be pulling my leg," he heard a young man speak from a nearby bar alongside a small group of mortals.
"Must be trainees from The Courthouse." The holsters which drooped carelessly across their belts were a dead giveaway. He wasn't trying to eavesdrop, however, with the group's table right next to the sidewalk, such a thing was inevitable.
"There's no way the Templar abandoned his post," the man said, "That's just not possible."
"I can let you talk to my operator," one of his companions responded as she tossed him her transmitter. "He sounded serious, says that Mr. Knight is in a state of shock." That knocked the wind out of her partner's sails. Everyone in The Courthouse knew about the Bureau's infamous jokester and his rather unique personality.
"That's…" the other trainee muttered in disbelief as he shoved the device in his ear.
"Looks like something's happening in Heaven," Griswold thought as he glanced down at his newspaper. Next to Ms. Lombardi's biography was a tiny column about recent gossip, which covered some particularly worrisome topics. The actual content of the column was vague at best, but, when read in combination with those trainees' words, they painted a terrifying picture. "If any of this is true, it'll shake the natural order of the Universe." As quick as his legs could carry him, he hurried down the road to the nearest transport. He had to get off this rock and back to his office as quickly as possible. "Connect me to my driver," he said as he turned on his personal communicator—a tiny gadget built into the side of his wristwatch. It didn't take long for a small ship to come flying down. "Take me home," he told the pilot with a worried scowl. "A storm is coming."