If there was one thing Mihail prided himself on more than his family name, it was his intellect. Perhaps he was not so willing to display it to all, always favouring having the benefit of keeping one's skills a private matter, but it provided him what he considered a more logical view of the world, and that, in turn, had always allowed him to plan his affairs far more effectively. It may not have been the cunning one saw in his eldest sister, but he was far from dense.
It was a shame, then, that he did not entirely use his intelligence for the title he claimed in the courts. It would not have been all that complicated for Mihail to compose a scholarly paper, but with all the plots that consistently ran through his mind, he found such pursuits to be nothing short of a waste of time which could be better spent finding other manners of furthering his prestige. Instead, while he distracted himself with the difficulties of ensuring his name was well known throughout the kingdom of Colchis, he could confirm his scholarly reputation was upheld through the use of a very carefully selected individual. The man in question went by the name of Makarios and hailed from a relatively well-to-do family; a father of three who made his living as a merchant and yet appeared to have academic proclivities. And they were not foolish ambitions, either, for he had proved himself far more intelligent than Mihail would have expected. But he was gullible, and his family resided in Nethisa, and that had been enough.
The youngest Thanasi had entered the temple and immediately directed himself towards the scripture rooms hidden at the back of the building, so often populated with priests and scribbling scholars. The whole ordeal might have been easier had he confronted the man in his home as he so often did, but Mihail enjoyed the rush of power he felt from proving he was not afraid to provoke the man in so public a place. As expected, Makarios had been seated at a desk, so distracted by his work that he had not noticed the dark-haired male approach until hands slammed upon the table and he was met with that sinister smug simper and those black-rimmed eyes half-hidden between thick curls to which he was now growing so accustomed.
"How is Hermia?" he had questioned, snatching the parchments from the man and scanning them with an expression of mild disinterest. He referred, of course, to the man's wife, a pretty light-haired thing who was not quite to Mihail's tastes but would have been deemed particularly desirable by most others. "I hear one of my guards is developing quite the interest in her; perhaps you'd like to improve upon your - apologies, my - work, else who knows what might happen, hm?" It was a subtle enough threat, but it was a very real one, and it would not have been the first the man had received.
There was a pause before the man nodded, eyes widened in concern for his beloved's welfare. Mihail could appreciate such a worry, always having considered himself quite the romantic, but in the current situation, he only smirked with disdainful pride at his panic. "Oh, hush. Don't disappoint me and I shan't be calling upon the baron's men. I wish for my next visit to be my last." He dropped the papers back before their author, gaze flickering away from Makarios for a split moment, realising that they were no longer alone. A nuisance. Mihail pulled away, placed a hand on his dark chiton so that it seemed to cinch the fabric tighter, and fixed his hard gaze on the girl in question.
"Might I assist you?"
Essa of Drakos
It was a shame, then, that he did not entirely use his intelligence for the title he claimed in the courts. It would not have been all that complicated for Mihail to compose a scholarly paper, but with all the plots that consistently ran through his mind, he found such pursuits to be nothing short of a waste of time which could be better spent finding other manners of furthering his prestige. Instead, while he distracted himself with the difficulties of ensuring his name was well known throughout the kingdom of Colchis, he could confirm his scholarly reputation was upheld through the use of a very carefully selected individual. The man in question went by the name of Makarios and hailed from a relatively well-to-do family; a father of three who made his living as a merchant and yet appeared to have academic proclivities. And they were not foolish ambitions, either, for he had proved himself far more intelligent than Mihail would have expected. But he was gullible, and his family resided in Nethisa, and that had been enough.
The youngest Thanasi had entered the temple and immediately directed himself towards the scripture rooms hidden at the back of the building, so often populated with priests and scribbling scholars. The whole ordeal might have been easier had he confronted the man in his home as he so often did, but Mihail enjoyed the rush of power he felt from proving he was not afraid to provoke the man in so public a place. As expected, Makarios had been seated at a desk, so distracted by his work that he had not noticed the dark-haired male approach until hands slammed upon the table and he was met with that sinister smug simper and those black-rimmed eyes half-hidden between thick curls to which he was now growing so accustomed.
"How is Hermia?" he had questioned, snatching the parchments from the man and scanning them with an expression of mild disinterest. He referred, of course, to the man's wife, a pretty light-haired thing who was not quite to Mihail's tastes but would have been deemed particularly desirable by most others. "I hear one of my guards is developing quite the interest in her; perhaps you'd like to improve upon your - apologies, my - work, else who knows what might happen, hm?" It was a subtle enough threat, but it was a very real one, and it would not have been the first the man had received.
There was a pause before the man nodded, eyes widened in concern for his beloved's welfare. Mihail could appreciate such a worry, always having considered himself quite the romantic, but in the current situation, he only smirked with disdainful pride at his panic. "Oh, hush. Don't disappoint me and I shan't be calling upon the baron's men. I wish for my next visit to be my last." He dropped the papers back before their author, gaze flickering away from Makarios for a split moment, realising that they were no longer alone. A nuisance. Mihail pulled away, placed a hand on his dark chiton so that it seemed to cinch the fabric tighter, and fixed his hard gaze on the girl in question.
"Might I assist you?"
Essa of Drakos