The diplomatic embassy from Egypt - sent by the Pharaoh himself - has arrived in Taengea! Lead by the General Osorsen H'Moghadam, the small convoy holds less than a dozen men as they arrive in Vasiliadon by boat. The small size of their party has aided in their speedy arrival but they are not in time to meet the King who summoned them. King Stephanos is on house arrest and it is Prince Irakles that is due to greet the visitors at the docks and then bring them to the Royal Palati for a ceremonious Court session, held in Egypt's honour...
In his most recent past campaigns, Osorsen had gone south and west to fend off attacks from the tribes seeking to disrupt trade routes. He hadn’t been to Greece since a voyage with his grandfather when he was still in his teens, and it still surprised him at how the weather could change so drastically in such a short voyage. In Africa, it was just hot. Always. The sun blazed down with the brief exception of the rainy season, or the sandstorms that blotted out the light. Here he’d already dealt with more rain and chill than he was accustomed to, and that combined with reports of the Queen’s morning sickness and his claim there had put him in a less than ideal mood.
Iahotep had sent him to get rid of the threat. Or to get him out of his thinning hair for the moment. If the old man thought the Greeks would cause Oso any sort of trouble or put him at risk in anyway, he was going to be very disappointed. The pale northern breed wouldn’t put down the Great Pharaoh’s own general.
His fingers itched along the rail as they drew closer to the foreign shore, eyes narrowed against the wind of the sea to try to get a better look at the harbor that was coming into view. They would be landing soon.
Dressed already to meet this young king who was brash enough to demand an audience, he wore a crisp white shendyt about his waist with material so fine it was all but sheer, the pleats gathered at the front saved what little modesty the garment offered. A lapis lazuli stone sat in his belt, surrounded by smaller pieces of jasper. The paler blue stone tied in at his collar of gold that laid across his shoulders and down across his chest, the tunic was made of woven netting that left even less to the imagination than his shendyt, revealing the ink markings on his arm and shoulder. Forgoing the usual wigs of his homeland in favor of ease of travel, though now he get the colder air he was beginning to long for the extra heat, his own black hair was cropped short and he’d allowed one of his men to assist him in shaving the beard that grew rampant more often than not. All of the men aboard had cleaned and applied the oils of their homeland to their skin, bringing a glistening sheen to the crew as the boat arrived finally in the dock.
Osorsen pulled on a deep blue robe stitched with his family crest in gold thread, and put the gold cuffs over his forearms that had once belonged to his father. The ring of the Moghadam Hei sat on his right hand ring finger, the lapis gem glowing a deep blue of night skies. A small clutch of people had gathered as his crew tied off the boat and prepared to to descend, though he couldn’t quite tell if it was supposed to be a noble contingent or if it was simply a horde of stunned commoners. His hand rested on the hilt of the dagger in his belt, flexing it subconsciously as he felt the weapon for security.
Descending the gangplank with his contingent at his back, he kept his head high and his gaze alert, face otherwise impassive. He had sent word ahead, so where was this king who wished so badly to converse with them.
The carriage ride to the Palati was a dull affair that afternoon, and with the gentle sway of the coach as its wheels traversed the cobbled lanes, the Lady Leventi found her eyes growing heavy. With her husband having ridden out prior to her own departure, travelling to the docks where he would join the welcoming delegation for General Osorsen and his entourage, Eirini had been left in the company of her daughters. Yet it wasn't the tediousness of idle conversation that lulled her senses, even if she didn't partake, but rather the absence of her husband which seemed to leave her a little drained at times.
Of course, awakening at dawn to start the preparations of readying herself had not exactly relieved her of her fatigue, thus Eirini had dozed whilst she bathed and allowed her maids to go about their dressing and styling of their mistress without much dictation.
The result was no less breathtaking – then again, Eirini never needed a lot of maintenance to look her best. The jewels that adorned her lobes, graced her neck and caressed her arms were merely embellishments; her raven tresses styled in a fashionable manner with the thick curls swept to one side, merely placed to accentuate elegant features; the deep blue materials of her chiton, slightly more conservative than usual and yet nonetheless appealing, merely a compliment to her figure – her beauty was never fabricated, merely enhanced.
Beauty was weapon in its own right, and yet it was her ability to wield it that made her lethal.
The attention she paid to her looks was as personal as it was political. At court she had a role to fulfil, a character to play; she was the charming and flirtatious Eirini of Leventi...a forbidden fruit that was just in reach – it was the source of her power, that and her cunning mind. The personal aspect to it all, was that she thrived off the attention bestowed upon her, it was euphoric and intoxicating and urged her forward whilst making yearn for more.
It was also exhausting.
Regardless, as the carriage halted before the royal palati, Eirini felt something awaken within her and acknowledging her daughters, she offered them some words of encouragement. "Remember what I told you earlier girls, I shan't be happy if I see you all huddled in a corner this day – no daughters of mine should keep to the shadows." Perhaps more words of critique than encouragement, but Eirini desperately wanted them to break free of their shells...hopefully without causing embarrassment to themselves or to the family, but Eirini wasn't holding her breath.
Manoeuvring from the carriage first, Eirini was immediately greeted by a chorus of voices, a smile curling at her painted lips as she returned them all with a slight incline of her head.
Inside the Palati itself, the atmosphere was one of excitement, just as any foreign visit was...at least for the day the courtiers could avert their thoughts from the trial, even if the absence of the king and queen were noted. Separating from her daughters, Eirini began her rounds – there wasn't much more to do beside wait for the delegation to arrive.
The events from the most recent meet just a few days back had left Irakles in good spirit. He had since then, moved all the main documents required for work to proceed smoothly once Stephanos was sequestered in the palace to is own quarters. But the subsequent discovery of the work that Stephanos had left him resulted in many sleepless nights, and what came of it was physicians being called as the cough that Irakles had been suffering since the past few months seem to worsen. Not that Irakles found it funny, for he's weathered things worst then just an infection in the lungs, but Meena had insisted, so Irakles had given in.
Taking over from Stephanos meant that he also had to follow through with what his nephew had started though, and that meant he couldn't exactly question why Stephanos had asked for an audience with the Egyptian ambassador. Greek and Egypt weren't exactly bosom buddies, but in recent years, the relationship between the two realms had tapered down to an uneasy truce - a truce Irakles had never been entirely happy with. But the peace loving idiots who had helmed the kingdoms had agreed.
Now that he was in charge though...
The prince had rose bright and early that day, to allow the time to be decked out in the colors of the Mikaelidas family. The crown he wore was one of his grander ones, with a Taengean water emerald and Colchian ruby embedded within the middle to signify the Taengean peacock. On his shoulders, he wore two lion head fibulaes that held up his deep maroon chiton that was overlaid with a white one below. Instead of looking like a full royal person, Irakles had instead chose to look a cross between the prince that he was born, and the fearsome general he had become. Perhaps the only thing he left behind was his battle axe, for the man did not think it was good form to bring a weapon to greet an ambassador. It was too bad though, for carrying a battle axe would be a great accompaniment to the blooming bruise on his lower right jaw, but no matter. People knew better then to ask, and if they did, it was not a story Irakles minded repeating.
Whatever put Stephanos in a bad light, the man was happy to do.
Astride Aeneus, Irakles went the whole way to the ports of Vasiliadon where he was supposed to greet the ambassadors. Gelded as he was, his old war horse still required a permanent firm hand to make sure he did not act up, and it was the firm hand that Irakles held up as he led a dozen guards with him down to the port.
"What do you think Stephanos meant to speak with, when he asked for an audience with the Egyptians?" Irakles queried as he slowed near Fotios, who had already arrived at the docks once he reached. The prince swung off the back of his ride, his leather slippers touching the rocky roads that led to the docks. He did not need a formal greeting - the relationship between the two old friends was such. Instead, Irakles merely tossed his friend a curious look, before looking back at his men when he noticed an approaching boat. "Look sharp, men." In the voice, was the ghost of the commanding general who had brought great glory to Taengea, and the men jumped to attention. "We do not want to allow weakness to show in the eyes of the Egyptians."
The golden bangles he wore rang in the afternoon sun as they waited for the approach, his family crest ring on his fingers, his hair combed and neat as he waited with Fotios on deck. The silence was unnerving, the only sound only of the waters slapping the oars until they arrived.
Once they did however, Irakles immediately wore his usual charming smile, the kind he would put on to greet people, court members and nobility alike as he stepped forward. The guards behind followed, but Irakles held a hand out to stop them, and instead proceeded himself. "I hope you had a pleasant trip, General Osorson." the prince greeted, having noted who he was from the ambassador of Greece in Egypt who had hurried back once being summoned by Irakles, and had given the prince a quick rundown on who was arriving today. The ambassador had not slept in days - a small price to pay for being in service to the great General of the Taengean armies. Extending a hand in a friendly manner, Irakles was slightly bent at his waist as he continued, "We welcome you to Taengea."
Getting a family of five girls to a court affair was never easy, not when her daughters were all either wrapped up in their own looks, or wrapped up with other matters when Evelli would prefer for them to be dressed up properly. Despite having Olympia no longer being in the house, and Selene currently with her sister as Olympia neared her birthing time, the Leventi family of Georgios of Leventi still took a decent amount of time before the carriage could depart from the old Manor they resided whenever they were in the capitol.
By the time everyone was rumbling their way to the Palati in two carriages that carried the husband and wife in one, and the three other girls in the other, it was well past dawn and they would likely make it there just as the Egyptian ambassadors arrived. Dressed in Leventi colors of purple, the material of the silk cloth was fastened over her right shoulder with a fibulae in the shape of a horse hoove, with the other shoulder left bare. The whole dress was cinched around her waist with a golden belt, in two loops, leaving just her stomach bare. Having felt discomfort with it within the last month, Georgios had reminded Evelli to not tie it too tightly, which meant the remainder of the material flowing to her ankle was flowy and almost dream-like as it gave hints of her ankle with the leather straps of her slippers wrapped around it.
Her brunette curls were piled on her head in a lose chignon, fastened with golden strands of strings, fresh flowers in them, with certain tendrils left to frame her face which has been lightly dusted with kohl and paint. Despite being of an elder age, Evelli of Leventi had once been known as a great beauty in Taengea, and its obvious she has passed on her looks to her offspring.
"Should we have brought them, Georgios?"Evelli murmured, momentarily uncertain as the Leventi carriage rolled nearer to the entrance of the Palati, where many other nobility was beginning to arrive. Knowing of the Egyptian ambassadors arrival, Evelli worried for her daugter's safety. But beyond being a father, Georgios also knew his duties as a baron, and squeezed his wife's hand in return. "They shall be fine. I will make sure our guards keep an eye out for them."
She wasn't entirely appeased, but she knew her place. It could be argued that Georgios was even more protective of their daughters then she was, but Evelli also saw an opportunity for greater marriages for her daughters, she was not blind.
Once they alighted from the carriage, the matriarch was quick to gather her daughters to her, greeting Selene with a hug as her eldest met them all on the entrance to the Palati, before issueing words of warning to them all. "Selene, do watch Nana and make sure she does not wander too near to the Egyptian generals. Theo, make sure you converse with your betrothed and his father. The events of the Senate meet is sure to have left its mark - be sure to make your presence known. Imma, do not leave my side much please." As the youngest, Imma was the one Evelli rarely allowed to leave her side, especially with the way her youngest seemed absentminded sometimes.
Finally turning, Evelli smiled when a chorus of voices of the servants greeted their arrival, motioning for them to enter where the court was in seemingly full swing. Evelli tilted her head towards them with a polite smile, one arm in the crook of her husband's elbow, her daughters behind them. With the strife that Taengea has been through, the court session was a necessity to start a new era of Taengea.
Achilleas held more than a little reservation about this envoy. How he could not when his experience of the Egyptian peoples had been limited to the brutal cut and thrust of combat? Ten years had passed, but as he waited for the ship carving its way through the cerulean waters to draw close, he could not help but sift through those memories, painting a picture of these ambassadors they were to receive.
With a final glance out over the bay, he reined his horse around and rode toward the Palati. It would be his father who would meet the Egyptian party from their ship, he knew, and Achilleas had not been surprised that his presence had not been requested. That morning's meeting had rather confirmed that the discord between them was not resolved. Never mind that he was a grown man, had held his barony for sixteen years now, Irakles would ever expect obedience, and for once, Achilleas had not given it. His lack of vote was not enough to change the course of events, but it had been more of a silent protest, a show of some faith to his cousin. He could not believe still the accusations that had been lain at the man’s feet. And he had known when he had not raised his hand that it would displease his father, had reconciled that, he thought.
But the missive that had waited for him the next day had proven otherwise, his father yanking back control of Euttica in all but name, and unburdening him even of the duties he had taken over for the Dynasteos Mikaelidas. It had been a shock, though he did not know why, given all he knew of the man.
Achilleas burned with indignation even at remembering it, the echoes of his anger still resounding through him. He had uncharacteristically lost his cool, one of the fine ornaments that dotted his study having paid the price. It was a not so subtle message - if he did not do as his father wanted, then he would be punished like an errant child. He frowned a little at the thought as he came into the grounds of the palati, dismounting and handing off his horse to one of the many hovering servants.
Achilleas had not held back in his attire this day. Mikaelidas red sat atop a crisp white chiton, a golden armband bearing the lion’s crest hugged his bicep tight,the metal warmed by his skin and matching the gold of the fibula at his shoulders. Every inch royal blood of Taengea, in spite of the chaos that beset their House in current days. He smoothed the gathered fabric so it hung straight, set back his shoulders and strode forward, sparing a nod for those who caught his eye.
It was already busy, curiosity drawing many to court, the sound of murmured voices loud in the court chamber. He spied his brother arriving and raised a hand in greeting, too many people between them to do much else. Tall enough to look over most of the heads that bent together in conversation, Achilleas was quick to spot the family of his betrothed, and for once, he was not thrilled at the prospect of seeing Theodora. More at the knowledge that smalltalk and social niceties were a distraction when he felt he ought to have his wits about him, and she seemed to have a knack for confounding him. Still, he knew well enough that it would be noticed if he kept his distance, and so carefully, the Lord Mikaelidas began to thread his way through the crowd until he had reached his future in-laws and their gaggle of beautiful daughters.
“ My Lord and Lady Leventi” he bowed to Georgios and Evelli, then let his gaze sweep over the young women, alighting finally on Theodora, whom he spared a tentative smile for. “ My Ladies. You come too to see our foreign friends I see”
The word friends did not sit well upon his tongue, Achilleas privately wondering what reason Stephanos would have had to call this delegation forth. But that was not talk for here with these people, and so he instead let the well-honed traits of gentlemanly courtesy slide seamlessly into place.
Theodora would never go as far as lying and claim that she did not enjoy social gatherings: It was an excellent opportunity to meet new people and create more connections that would benefit her family. Of course, with the announcement of her upcoming wedding, there would be certain connections that would be off-limits to her. But she still had a few unmarried sisters that could greatly benefit for such a meeting ― even if it didn't end up in any marriage proposals.
Even so, Theodora found herself a little envious that her sister had been the one sent to Olympia's side rather than herself. She wished for nothing more than to see all of her sisters under the same roof again ― most of all, she missed her sister Olympia and would love the chance to see here before the babe was born.
It seemed as if Selene had been offered those honors instead, and perhaps that, too, was for the best.
Having followed her mother in suit ― as she often did ― Theodora had found herself dressed in her family's colors: A purple dress that while covered both of her shoulders, still hung over her right shoulder. Underneath the purple, white cloths would cover her chest and slide down the left of her arm. Gold trims decorated the purple and a small band around her waist. The purple split a top of her knee, showing the rest of the white, silk fabric underneath. The back of the purple dress almost reached to the ground, falling out in curvy flows behind her, while the front was covered by the very same white that had covered her chest.
Theodora's hair had been tied up at the top, though allowed her naturally dark brown curls to spill down her back and her shoulders: She had always preferred wearing her hair loose. The finger with her family crest had been replaced by gold bangles decorating her left wrist and similiar gold dangled from her earlobes.
Her mother's instruction was met with a simple nod: "As you wish, mother." She responded with a nod. She would not argue it, and even she realized how it would look if she spent the day ignoring her betrothed and his family. Even Theodora was not so foolish to make such a mistake.
It didn't take too long before he found them ― Achilleas of Aikaelidas, and the very same smile he'd offered her was returned with ease. Just as her mother had instructed, Theodora stepped forward and curtsied, "Lord Achilleas." Even as she moved, her eyes did not leave his: A short flicker of pleasant amusement touched her brown orbs.
The morning had been an early start for most, even if it was a perfectly reasonable time for rising for the Head of the Leventi household. With his insomnia at full pitch these days - to which he could only blame the tensions that naturally came with seeing a months-long plan walking as fine a line as it had been the last few weeks - Fotios had slept nothing since the Senate meet two days ago. He recalled a moment the previous day when he had dozed in his chair in the is study for perhaps an hour but, otherwise, he had been conscious for over forty-eight hours.
Whilst this had his body growing tired and aching, the muscles unable to keep themselves smooth and easy without regular rest, it hadn't dulled his mind. Fotios had laid awake the entire night, some of it engaging with Eirini in pleasurable distraction but most simply holding his wife's frame close while she slumbered and he thought. Even eyes closed and limbs still, he hadn't been able to drift off. Instead, he had been awake when his wife had slept after their lovemaking and he had been still as conscious when she had stirred against him with the rising of the morning sun.
Her stirring had sent Fotios up and out of bed slowly, careful not to wake her, in order to ready himself for the day ahead. He had bathed in a separate room to their sleeping quarters, then performed his morning ablutions before dressing appropriately for a meeting of such magnitude.
Tying his half back with a strand of leather, trimming the hair over his jaw and seeing to it that his body was clean, oiled and ready for the day, Fotios then chose one of his formal chitons - a rarity for a man who preferred the clothes he might wear to go riding - and donned the navy blue cloth with the feel of a man accepting armour made from parchment. Such attire was appropriate for the ceremony of the day but hardly made him feel secure.
The chiton cut from shoulder to shoulder, fell to where it was cinched at the waist and then dropped to floor length, a split in the fabric running up the side of his leg. Sandals with thin strips of black leather were fastened around his ankles and calves; all the way to each knee.
Silver thread adorned the hems and edges of his chiton and Fotios chose a himation to match; one in startling white with silver design embossed around its edges. The white cloak was fastened around his shoulders and held in place by two pins on opposing ends of his collar bones - silver fibulae in the shape of rearing horses, facing one another as if in battle.
Black leather bracers were fastened around Fotios' forearms and he pulled the straps tight as he checked their fit, his fingers flexing to assess movement. Not a man for jewellery, Fotios wore only two rings - a black piece of obsidian on his left ring finger - a mark of his union with Eirini - and his house crest on the middle finger of his right hand. When one ruled the House with the largest wealth in all the kingdom, it did not due to show it off upon your person. Instead, Fotios knew that his wife and daughters would be gowned in expensive tastes; living, breathing examples of his wealth for all to see.
By the time he was ready to leave and head to the docks - for the boat transporting the Egyptians was due by mid-morning according to watches at the docks' towers, Fotios had made it back to his chambers to find his wife now awake and preparing doe the day within her dressing room.
He had said nothing to her - a man who preferred quiet in the early hours - but had simply moved to stand behind her naked frame in the mirror and placed an open-mouthed kiss to her shoulder. He had growled a little against her skin - an inarticulate comment at the frustration that he was not able to wake her to the day in their more preferred fashion - normally with his face between her thighs - and then simply left the room, and the estate.
There had been no need for explanations of where he was going, for they had already established a plan for the day the night before. For this was the way of the Leventis. Any man who had to explain his actions as he carried them out was ill-prepared, unorganised and likely to fail.
His gelding already prepared and waiting for him as he left the building, Fotios heaved himself up onto the mount with no less grace than he would normally, despite his more formal attire and, ensuring that only his leg was exposed as opposed to any other, more intimate, appendage, kicked the beast into a brisk pace that carried him quickly through the streets of Vasiliadon.
The capitol was repairing itself well, Fotios noted as he made his way towards the docks, following the morning sunshine. Apart from a few buildings that need more time, preparation and the delay in waiting for finer materials to be delivered in order to rebuild (such as the Order House), all of the city was there and abouts back to normal after the Creed attack. Outside of the city, too, the walls of the settlement were strong and only the circus was still left in disrepair.
But what was giving the city still further life was that of the people. No longer walking as if with a shadow dogging their steps or an insurmountable weight upon their shoulders, the Taengean people moved, chatted and interacted in a calming manner. Luckily, it had been started to the Senators that any word on the King and his current confinement was to be kept within the Senate. Citing the recent events in Athenia, the Chief Advisor had made it clear that no word was to be spilled of the King and Queen's current incarceration. Especially when an Egyptian envoy in attendance now. There was no advantage in the Egyptians knowing that Taengea was currently without an acting monarch. Such weaknesses could not be held before the eyes of their greedy southern neighbours, without expecting an attack. Such business was private within the royal family and until an accusation had been either proven or disregarded, the Senate and Court were to behave as business as usual. Else risking the Egyptians scenting blood in their waters...
Waters which were mostly calm that morning, as Fotios arrived at the docks with only two person guards at his shoulders. The commonplace sailors and labourers of the Vasiliadon port were headed about their business without any concerns for the import of the men aboard the ship Fotios could now see on the horizon and drawing closer. They carried on as if that were morning the same as any other.
Fotios had witnessed these sorts of people before. The ones that cared little for how the world worked or helping to make it function as such. He held zero jealousy for their lives and even less respect for their minds. Simple creatures.
Dismounting from his horse, Fotios ensured that one of his guards held the creature’s reins as he moved to stand in an appropriate position for when the Egyptian ship - that was now close enough to witness people walking across its deck - came into port.
It wasn't long he had to wait before his friend and ally Irakles of Mikaelidas arrived to stand beside him.
"What do you think Stephanos meant to speak with, when he asked for an audience with the Egyptians?"
The man's words had Fotios looking around with an eyebrow raised. His tone was low as he spoke, not wanting to spook the nearby labourers with the name of the cultist group that had terrorised the city not so long ago.
"An investigatory meeting regarding the Creed, I suspect." He told the man, his gaze turning sidelong and communicating hidden messages that only Irakles would realise the full extent of. "I imagine the King is seeking the benefactor of a group so well supported until now."
It was all there was to say on the matter as, once the last word left Fotios' lips the gangplank of the ship was produced and settled into place as the moorings of the ship were tied off at the dock.
When the man clearly in charge of the small unit came out onto the docklands, Fotios wasn't surprised to see many a sailor stop and stare. Most of them - at least the near intelligent ones - recognised that the man was far too significant and impressive to be someone worthy of laughter but it was clear that his outfit was surprising several to the point of humour. Fotios was not one of them.
The man wore the traditional garb of the higher classes of the Egyptian kingdoms. The most skin he offered on show to the strangers around him the more seriously he should be taken. Fotios had done enough deals in Egypt and visited their eastern dunes a few times over the years, negotiating the studs of famous Egyptian and Arabian horseflesh. He knew well enough how foolish it was to insult a man confident enough to wear so little amidst so many. His features remained calm and expressionless as he stood with folded arms at Irakles back, whilst the two men greeted one another, his eyes assessing.
No common man - not even a labourer - developed muscles in the way that this man held on his frame. Which meant he was a fighter and a long-term one at that. Add to that his wealth and the manner in which his men conformed to his instruction and it was easy to identify who the General Osorsen was that the Pharaoh had sent word ahead was to be expected.
The Prince Irakles was the first to welcome him, a hand out in greeting. Fotios waited his turn and then offered the same exchange offering a fair nod of the head that identified the two of them as equals.
"Sirdar Moghadam." He greeted with a formal tone of respect, but he offered little else in way of conversation, being proficient in his speech. He would allow Irakles to wax poetic, for that was his way. For him, the purpose of today was to watch, to learn and to steer where necessary...
The crowd he’d thought commoners from the ship appeared to be the contingent sent to greet them, and he kept his expression as stoic as he could manage. Now that he was closer he could see their attempts at finery, very much more covered and subdued than he was used to in Egypt. Even the southern tribes had more sense of decor and finery than this. His own garb would be to them downright outlandish though it was the true height of fashion, and he very nearly bared his teeth in a grin at the thought of his reception. Having to leave behind Asha and the others would make for a dull visit indeed.
Holding up his hand as the other man did to prevent his entourage from following, Osorsen stepped forward to meet the man on the dock in kind. This did not look like a young man newly made king, and yet his dress and the crown on his head made him out to be some manner of royal. If the king himself who had requested him couldn’t be bothered to meet them at the docks it was a rough start and a rude shirk of propriety. He marked the occurrence and bit his tongue. For the moment.
Oso stopped an arms length from his small opponent, looking down to meet the man’s gaze as he tried to sort through who this could possibly be. Some advisor who fancied himself important enough to greet him no doubt. The silence was broken by the offered gesture and greeting in Greek, the slight bend at the waist showing this could not be the king himself. What king would bow to another, no matter how superior the man. Another who had not stepped forward but was supposedly nearly as important addressed him by proper title and name at least, and his eyes snapped back to the one who spoke as if his home tongue was familiar before returning to the man before him.
Lifting his hand, a signal for those behind him, Osorsen gave a nod of his head but stayed silent until a man dressed in a far thicker weave than he stepped forward, barely reaching the general’s shoulder and giving a deep bow of respect to the Greeks before him.
”The general thanks you for your welcome. He speaks Greek a little, but to avoid misunderstanding I am here to serve as his interpreter.”
The Greek had been a slave him his grandfather’s house for many years, and his features were undeniably similar to those of his countrymen, though his skin was far tanner which gave somewhat watery blue eyes a more piercing effect. Rafa had been one of Oso’s own tutors growing up, and it was thanks to him that the child had learned more than a modicum of mathematics and language. He was confident in his speech, but in matters so important as this, where the detail was key to everything, he trusted no one but Rafa to assist him in finding the truth.
”The journey was swift, as if the seas wished our presence.”
Osorsen hated the way the language felt, so heavy and clumsy in his mouth instead of the fluid feel of his own, but he kept his distaste from his expression as he finally clasped the hand of the man who’d offered. Eyes locked on the man in the crown’s, he would not be the first to break eye contact and show his submission. Not until he knew who this was and where the king who had requested him waited.
”Where is the king? I was told he would greet us himself.”
Once again, she was unable to truly grasp what was going on.
Selene wasn’t overly politically minded. It wasn’t because she didn’t understand it, but simply because she had never been brought into it. She was a social expert, able to navigate through just about any situation with grace and ease. But when it came to how men went about running a country, she just wasn’t ever involved. Now that her sister was the queen, she was slowly starting to wrap her head around what it took to be a monarch. It was more than just planning the parties. And there was a lot of back door deals and quieted content that she didn’t even realize. The lives of men were complicated, and none more than that of Stephanos and his wife, in her opinion.
As soon as Pia’s letter, desperate and confused as to what was happening, reached her, Selene arranged her travel back to the city. There was no way that she was going to stay in Serenn when her sister was under house arrest, terrified. Her own frustrations and confusion were far less important than her sister’s condition. She was grateful for good weather, making it back into the city with good headwind early that morning. And instead of going to the manor with her family, she instructed Jo to pack her things so that she could be lodged within the Palati until further notice.
She would be at her sister’s side when this baby came, no matter what.
Now, only hours after settling into her room, she found herself in another one of Pia’s suggested outfits to meet with the delegation coming in from Egypt. She needed someone wholly on her side to tell her what was going on, and who better than her sister to play the part. The biggest lesson she had learned was that men liked to talk and brag with pretty women. Before, the blonde hadn’t thought much about it. But suddenly, she found herself in the middle of the political strife, and taking what she had heard back to the King and Queen was important.
So, adjusting the neckline of the dress, she took one last look in the mirror to make sure that everything was in place before she headed down to play her part. To say the dress was a bit scandalous was an understatement. The heavily beaded neck piece wrapped tightly to her collarbone, decorated with stones of purples and deep blacks with silver metal holding it. The silky purple material was attached front and back, barely covering the stones, leaving her shoulders completely bare. The sweetheart neckline hugged her breasts but didn’t attach to the material in the back. Breasts covered (and material attached to her skin so as not to move), the folds of the dress to her core. A belt of similar stones kept the material at her waist, wrapped around the back, but not cinching the material in the back. The chain of the belt rested against her hip bones, the sides of her body completely exposed. So much, that a close inspection of her left hip would show a small scar from falling off Ophelia when she was younger. The material regathered just below her hips, going around her back to attach to the back of the collar.
It was a tight dress, ones that showed off her body and her beauty. It felt far more revealing than the one she had felt like she’d worn at her dinner with Vangelis, and that dress had been see-through in many areas.
She always chose to keep her makeup as natural as possible, preferring to be fresh-faced than heavy-handed. Eyes lined a bit, lips colored-- she felt like she didn’t need much more than that. Tonight, her hair was down, pinned back at the temples with amethyst combs and curled into large ringlets, Selene was pleased with the overall look.
For the most part.
Thin sandals in place, Selene kissed Pia and headed down to meet her family down below. As she met them on the steps, she was happy to see that they were already there, waiting on her. Hugging Imma close, she ignored the disapproving look from her father about the outfit and instead focused on her mother’s words. Looking over at Nana, she almost sighed out loud. The last thing she wanted to was to be in charge of the girl, who would most likely insist on doing the exact opposite of what she was told. Hopefully, the girl would at least listen to their mother and require little to no true monitoring from her. Still, she replied, "Yes Mama." Ever the obedient child.
She was hoping to do as she was asked by Pia without the interference of her sister, who would only keep men quiet.
When Achilleas joined the group, Selene’s face brightened a bit at her old friend. ”Of course. We would not miss the chance to meet such an exotic visitor! Opportunities like this do not come around often, Lord Achilleas, as you know. It will be an enlightening experience.” Where she normally would have looped her arm through Theodora’s, she let her sister alone, so that she could be escorted in by her fiance.
Her eyes looked around, waiting to see if perhaps Vangelis would be there. She wasn’t sure he would have a reason to be and to be honest, she wasn’t sure she was ready to face him again. His reply had left a bit of a sour taste on her mouth. And as much as they both had seemed resolve to go back to the way things were, Selene doubted that she would be able to do so this soon after. Perhaps the next time she saw him, but certainly not today.
Fotios's words had held merit, and in a way, Irakles could see why. Stephanos had been dogged in finding out the Creed and their involvement in why Zacharias and Zenon had been targeted and murdered in the brutal manner in which it was. But what his nephew did, and would not realize, was that the Creed had had help from Irakles itself. That, was one of the things that his nephew would never find out, at least not if Irakles had a say in it.
Their eyes met, and he understood what Fotios said, but it was a matter not for discussions in such a public place. As such, Irakles's response to his friend and ally was merely a crooked, lopsided smile, before he turned to focus on greeting the visiting ambassador from Egypt.
An ambassador who, obviously, was not at all used to the change in climate from his home realm, to the one he had just set foot in. As he stood firmly whilst Fotios greeted the ambassador in Kemetic, a language that Irakles was familiar, but not fluent in, the translator that the Egyptian male brought did not surprise Irakles in the slightest. While it would have been advisable for Irakles to have one, he trusted Fotios to translate on his behalf, and as such did not bring one to this informal meeting for now. A proper translator awaited him once they arrived at the palati, but for now, he'd rather not many people attend their welcome of the Egyptian male.
Tall as the male was, he was young, in that Irakles could see. He did not close the distance between the two, allowing the newcomer to set the distance and boundaries himself. Treating the newcomers like how one would treat a wild animal new to a situation, Irakles was careful in his words and actions, but always ensured a welcoming, friendly smile remained on his lips. The prince did not bother flicking a gaze to the translator, but his ears picked up each word as it was spoken.
"I am Prince Irakles, the current King's uncle. My nephew is currently... indisposed. I apologize on his, and our country's behalf. However, we are prepared for your arrival, and I will head any discussion that is necessary on my nephew's behalf." Gesturing to a carriage waiting behind them, the royal carriage had the Mikaelidas crest emblazoned upon it, along with a set of handsome horses, all alike or stronger then Irakles's own gelded warhorse, all of fine Leventi stock.
"A court session is held in your session, Sirdar, and we have prepared both carriages to carry your belongings, as well as the finest horses of our countrymen to carry you through our streets. If you would follow me, I will escort you to meet the rest of our people." He did not attempt pronouncing the male's name as Fotios had, for it was not a syllable Irakles was used to, but the title as Fotios had pronounced was something Irakles had practiced with when he was younger and still strong in the battlefield.
Taking a step back, Irakles waved in the direction of the set of horses and carriage, waiting for Osorsen to head towards the waiting men and carriage, before he would follow by their side.
The whispered return as Rafa spoke the prince’s words drew a frown to his face, and he tensed somewhat as the many meanings the words could have coursed through his mind. Indisposed ranged from a light cough, to life threatening illness and he had no desire to bring his men into the company of those spreading disease. If a king could not meet the ambassador he had requested, it must be serious indeed. Or else the man felt poorly and frightened and wanted to hide his weakness.
”Is there sickness in your country, your highness? I cannot understand why a prince must conduct the business of a kingdom.”
On high alert, his ears caught the sound of the horse being unloaded from the boat along with the rest of their belongings, a young black gelding that had been bred in his grandfather’s own stables. The beast was fit for a king with his fine muscle and elegantly dipped face, and it had been a shame to geld him, but the secrets of the Moghadam stables and the fine horses of Egypt were held close in secret. Tossing his fine head as if echoing his master’s displeasure, the horse pinned his ears flat to his head as he was coaxed forward until his hooves reached solid ground once again.
”My men appreciate your offer.” he had little interest in seeing how fine the Greeks thought their animals. ”A gift, for your king. But, seeing as he is not here, I suppose I shall keep him to myself until such a time as he is disposed to join us.”
Switching from Greek to Kemetic, the general signaled for the horse to be brought forth, gathering the reins and swinging himself up onto the bare back of the beast with the grace and swiftness of one much accustomed to mounting such. He battled primarily from the back of his own war horse and it had been the first trick he’d learned at his grandfather’s knee to preserve his life as long as he had. Calling orders to his own men, he guided the still fidgeting colt forward towards the others.
Fotios did little in order to direct the conversation or change where the Egyptian general and Greek prince wished to take it. It simply performed his duty as translator and speak the Prince Irakles' words exactly to the ambassador within a formal dialect of Kemetic. Whilst he rarely had the chance to use the language, he was confident of his knowledge in it. He was sure he spoke it with a Greek accent for one didn't pick up the natural cadence of a kingdom's linguistics without being encompassed by it, but even with the accent he knew himself to be perfectly understandable by the look on the ambassador’s face. He would then go quiet and allow the Egyptian's words to be translated for him by his own translator and then nodded to Irakles to confirm that the little Egyptian standing behind the mountain of a general spoke them accurately. The two translators glanced each other’s way, an awkward moment where they silently communicated the fact that if either of them lied, the other would know.
Despite his desire to mention something along the lines of how Egyptians liked to spawn so many princes it was logically that non were given political or cultural important and how Greece operated differently and trusted in the ruling capacity of their monarch's immediate family, Fotios verbalised none such scathing thoughts. This was Stephanos' show, and one that Irakles was having to direct. Fotios' meddling - however much desired on his part or how he might believe himself to be of use, was to remain limited. So, he simply performed his role as linguistic translator and did little else until the man brought forward a horse as a gift to the king.
Despite horseflesh being his family's pride and the centre of his business, Fotios was in no way threatened by the production of a horse as a gift. It was a customary piece offering and Fotios was pleased to see that the animal was of exceptional quality and not a common mule used for a sense of mockery.
When the general decided to keep the animal for himself, refusing the ride in the carriage provided, Fotios glanced towards his friend to sense any insult he suspected would be felt by the man. Fotios was a politician and allowed all words to fall like water from a duck’s back. But Irakles was an honour bound military man. He wasn't quite so good at hiding his feelings.
When the Egyptian had decided it was time to be on the move, Fotios translated Irakles' final words on the matter and, refusing his own mount, made for the carriage so that he might talk to Irakles in private on the short ride to the palati. He was sure the man would have things to say regarding their latest guest...
Irakles had frowned when the Egyptian general inferred to there being a sickness in the country - did it always meant an illness, when one was indisposed? Yet despite his mild annoyance that flared within, Irakles did not allow it to show. While he was a military man, he had been well trained in the art of politics and speech way back when he was still a prince under the care of his father in the palati. Whilst his control over his veneer of emotions may not be half as well-done as Fotios's or others who were more versed in court manners, that did not mean he cracked easily.
So instead, Irakles had shook his head. "There is none, Sirdar. My nephew is new to the matter of being a King, and finds the responsibilities rather taxing. Worry not, it brings no harm to you nor your men, and he will be up very soon." Not used to speaking in such a pandering matter, it was no doubt that by the time evening came and he left the general to return to his own chambers, Irakles would be wound up, a tensed lover that would return to Meena.
But for now... he swallowed his pride.
When the black gelding was brought out however, Irakles found his eyes swivelling over automatically. Unlike his friend, he had little interest in horseflesh and the raising of them, but as a man whose been through war and won relying on a strong, powerful steed, he knew a good quality gelding when he saw one. And the black beast was no doubt one of great upbringing, with the fine muscles and arch in its neck, the proud way in which the male walked as they were led down the gangplank.
"I'm sure my nephew would appreciate the gift, Sirdar. I must confess, I do not breed horses myself. Such talents lie in the hands of my friend here." Irakles motioned at Fotios with a grin. "But I do know great horseflesh, and this beast is a beautifully raised one." Praise could never go wrong when it came to politics. Such was the ways of men. They liked to indulge when it came to words that rubbed their ego the right way up, and if Irakles went by his own inclination, he could make a good guess what sort of words would be favored by the prideful general of Egypt.
Nodding to the Greek soldiers to step back as the general swung on to the fidgeting colt, Irakles clicked for his own steed to be brought forward, an old but spirited warhorse, only recently gelded. As a warhorse, Irakles had preferred his spirit to be unbroken, and had rode Aeneus as a stallion. In that way, he was faster and more alert to his surroundings, and many a time had saved his master from certain death. It was only after his retirement, did Irakles geld Aeneus, if only to preserve his sanity, for being stored in the stables all day would drive the ungelded stallion mad.
Even so however, Aeneus retained much of his spirits, and Irakles would've been unseated had he not a firm hand to handle his strongminded horse. With a tight hold on the reins, the prince guided the horse towards the where Osorsen had stopped, pausing when he saw Fotios heading for the carriage. The general furrowed his brows - leaving the Egyptian alone to ride to the palati seemed off, so instead the prince called out to his friend, motioning with his head to the horses. "Can't leave them alone m'friend." he murmured with a wry laugh when Fotios came within hearing distance, before nudging his cream colored horse towards where the general stood waiting.
With a motion of his hand, the party would move towards the capitol, the remainder of the Egyptian's belongings loaded into the carriage whilst the three highest ranking male's rode abreast in the front of the party. It is during this time that Irakles turned to give a pleasant smile at Osorsen as he asked, "Have you visited any of the kindgoms in Greece of late, Sirdar?" Pleasant conversation. Irakles chafed at them. But he had no choice, if the situation called for it really.
Though the old man didn't show it, Oso wasn't a fool. He had been chosen for this job for several reasons, primarily because the dowager queen and pharaoh wanted him as far away from Hatshepsut and power as possible, but also because he had a past record of reading people and negotiating terms. When it came down to it, he was supposed to listen to the Greeks, respond to whatever complaint or issue they had, and find some remedy for it. If that meant burning down the town around him, so be it. If it meant making a political match to increase trade and protect one kingdom, he could do that too. Though at the moment he would much prefer the burning.
He tried to hide his own smirk at the murmuring among the foreigners, he clearly had broken some sort of protocol or plan, and he preferred it that way. The more they were thrown off their planned game, the more he could discover the truth of why they had asked for him and his retinue. King Stephanos' letter had been vague, requesting only that a diplomatic entourage be sent to his shores in order to discuss a matter that would have important bearing on both kingdoms.
Osorsen watched the brief exchange between the prince and his man, the one who had been translating and apparently had some kind of relationship with the prince and raising horses. Rafa had translated, but the older Greek man had seemed far more nervous around his own people than the Egyptians who had been his adopted tribe for the past thirty years and though he was mounted up beside his master on a Greek bred horse to ensure he could translate with ease, his eyes couldn't seem to settle anywhere.
"When you respond to this question, perhaps consider taking the tact." A grey brow was raised as he translated the prince's comment regarding whether or not the Egyptian had visited any other Greek lands recently. Baring his teeth in a grin, Oso considered the consequences for only a moment before replying in Greek himself so Rafa couldn't try to edit any of his words. He wasn't here to pretend the relationship between their countries had been anything different than what they had been.
"Only once, when I was young. I joined my grandfather on an invading force. The countryside was beautiful."
It had been years since he'd come even close to Taengean soil, but there was nothing to stop the casual taunt if the king himself wasn't even willing to step out of his palace to meet him. He allowed the prince to lead them through the city, though not by much, and he kept his own horse apace of the other man's, he could feel the eyes on him as the citizens of the country took in the sight of the contingent from the strange land and kept his own straight ahead, the palace on the horizon drawing closer and closer.
This was not the first time Hesiodos was called to perform for royalty on an important event… not only because of his legendary status, but also because his music was fit for the occasion. He remember having performed for royalty before, too, so he knew how to behave. He accepted the task in a heartbeat, and was given a guest room in the Palati to prepare. There, he spent the night with some pleasurable company, before getting ready for the day.
He dressed in the color of wine red, with his clothes clasped by his golden brooch in the form of a songbird. He reluctantly left his swords in the chamber, however, for obvious reasons: he was not a soldier, or someone expected to be armed, especially in front of a foreign dignitary. He understood them, though being unarmed made him feel naked, and not in the good way.
So he resigned himself to be armed only by his lyre. Fortunately he knew his way around Kemetic, having spent a good chunk of time in Egypt, and he could perform some songs that would please the prince… there was also the fact that he would understand whatever was going on. That could give him an edge, whatever happened…
After having something to eat he got prepared. He waited at the entrance of the Palati alongside the others. They would arrive any time soon…
Gavriil stood with one hand over the other, feet shoulder width apart, not overly thrilled to be on the steps of the palati. Though, with the Baron of Meganea, it was sometimes hard to tell when he was thrilled to be somewhere. His face had an almost continuously grave set to his features and he was not prone to great displays of emotion at any time. He was with the rest of the nobles who had not gone down to the harbor to greet their foreign guests. Standing a little to one side, he was able to see better from this vantage point, the gates where the envoys would march through.
He shifted from one foot to the other and sighed through his nose. The sun blazed down, threatening to bake them all in their fine regalia. Unlike most of the nobles, he’d not affixed his finest jeweled clasps across his himation, nor had he polished the leather of his sandals. While he liked being at peace with the Egyptians, he didn’t like them as a people overly much.
He looked to Hesiodos, standing near the bottom of the steps, ready to pluck tunes on the lyre, and then returned his gaze outward toward the gate. This had better not turn into one of those orgies that sometimes happened at royal functions. Of course, with King Stephanos on house arrest, and Prince Irakles at the helm, this was unlikely, but this was also making Gavriil uneasy. In his opinion, Irakles was just as volatile as the nephew. He just hid it better.
This was a delicate issue that really, King Zennon or Prince Zacharias would have been better suited to field. Gavriil directed his thoughts away from that topic. It did no one any good to dwell on the dead or to mourn what was not to be. Sometimes he wished he never had to come into the city. When he was here, he was obligated to attend people and places he’d rather stay away from.
Ah well.
Movement finally caught his eye and he watched at people made their way through the gate, guiding a striking Egyptian man into their midst. For some reason, he’d expected a cripplingly old diplomat. Not a man who was clearly a general of some kind.
Things moved quickly in Taengea, as time waited for no one. Two weeks ago, Basilides left Vasiliádon for his hometown of Acaris, a journey that took just shy of two days itself. Then, once affairs had been handled at home - between loud family dinners and nearly a decade of luxury business affairs to catch up on - he was sanctioned by his family to return to the capital and establish connections, as promised.
Several of the connections made during his time with the troupe would be considered low-hanging fruit, should he decide to think so arrogantly. The Dynastia Leventi had maintained a longstanding relationship with his brother serving as their connection for many of their luxury needs. Conversely, he had also maintained a relationship with them as loyal patrons for the late Children of Mnemosyne. It was no chore at all to reconnect with them, particularly given a missive from the Lady Evelli inviting him to assist with the wedding of her daughter, Theodora. Additionally, having received a missive from Nana of Leventi, he was informed of and formally invited to the arrival of the Egyptian delegation and the session of court that would take place immediately following there arrival.
The timing could not have been better. After many hours were spent placing orders to be shipped to a new location in the capital city, he quickly changed at his new semi-permanent residence, one he gained at a rather respectable rate with the landlord. The suite was just enough space for a bachelor of some taste, and should Zephyrus return, comfortable enough for two. While there, he changed into one of his nicer chitons with a chamlys of pale green, donned with a new clasp bearing the emblem of the Merchant's Guild of Taengea.
Basilides felt the corner of his lips tug at the thought of his lover - his 'former' lover, he supposed - as they had not managed to reconnect following his return. Perhaps the young man had moved along to Athenia, as he expressed interest in doing. Against his better judgement, Basilides felt his mind drifting towards memories often, and shook them away as he peered on over the heads of the average man. His height, while often seen as unusual, was helpful in such situations.
Truthfully, he sought out his patrons for the evening - specifically Nana of Leventi - though his eyes could not help but drift about the crowd for short chocolate curls dancing over hazel green eyes. Still, without issue, he displayed his written permission to be upon Palati grounds, despite his birth, and awaited the arrival of his companion for the evening.
Xene of Mikaelidas was utterly furious. Utterly broken. Utterly missing the mere presence of her brother. But she had not found the courage to visit him, sure that their tempers would ignite against each other after the happenings of the Senate meeting. Absolutely sure that whatever words she said to her brother in parting, however scathing, would haunt her if anything were to happen to him. So, she kept her distance.
And she drank herself into oblivion. She avoided everyone and anyone who crossed her path and would refuse to take visitors. More often than not something would be thrown across the room at any point during the day and the princess would spend her time cleaning it up, insisting that her ladies in waiting not waste time cleaning up messes she made in anger.
It was her own punishment and it seemed to quell the anger at points. But before long, it would be surging back.
The only reprieve from the alcohol that she took was the day that she was to hold court in place of her mother and the imprisoned queen. A frustrating venture but one she knew she needed to spearhead if she was to remain in he good graces of Prince Irakles. The last thing Xene needed was some sort of heinous trial against herself, where all of the evidence was a lie that would land her in her own state of house arrest.
No, she would play nice. But her eyes and ears were everywhere within the Palati. Kalliope and Nephele had been dispatched, mostly to separate herself from them in her darkest moments, to go about their days but to listen to anything that crossed their paths. She needed every bit of information she could gather. Then, maybe, she might be able to find someone to make a case in favor of Stephanos. However unlikely that may end up.
Come the morning of the court, Xene spent time dressing herself. In true Xene fashion, she wore her chiton of crimson and gold, her hair done up in a pile of beautiful golden curls, and her makeup flawless. For once, she wore a simple gold and ruby diadem across her forehead, knowing that, as host, her appearance would be scrutinized to the very ends of the earth. She wanted as little gossip floating about as possible. There would be fewer fires to extinguish later on. Adorning herself with a humble amount of jewelry and soft leather sandals. Staring at herself for only a moment in the looking glass, she was a vision of beauty, though that was such a subjective topic.
Xene's entry into court was quiet, especially since she had been one of the first individuals to arrive. Her ladies were permitted entry, as was their right afforded to them, and Xene had long busied herself with greeting the various courtiers who arrived early. So it was no surprise whatsoever that the princess missed the entry of a number of nobles and courtiers in the process. Keeping a brilliant smile on her features, she started to move about the room, taking hands and making proper greetings before excusing herself to move on to the next lord or lady.
Striding gracefully across the court, the princess spotted Lord Gavriil, her smile growing slightly in that moment when she made the decision to greet him. "Lord Gavriil," Xene said with a musical lilt to her voice as she offered him her hand, "It is a pleasure to see you again," she said softly, not adding the afterthought that told her she should completely tear apart the Senate decision. But the stoic man was a comfort among the gossip and chatter of the courtly ladies. If she had her way, she would afix herself to the side of a single individual in order to keep herself grounded. The Lord Dimitrou was a start and she was more than keen on allowing pleasant conversation before she went about the remainder of her duties.
Silently, she questioned where her sister had gotten off to. She hadn't seen the young woman enter just yet.
The absolutely last thing on the Gods' mortal earth that Vangelis wanted to do at this moment was attend a formal social function at the royal palati. Standing in his rooms in the Order House and being trussed up like some kind of dining feast, he could not help but believe whole-heartedly that he would rather have been preparing to ride into war than he would be preparing to grace the royal hallways of the palati in order to grace some foreign diplomat.
Firstly, he disliked these sorts of functions immensely. The Kotas were an interesting family to lead an entire kingdom as not many of them enjoyed being the centre of attention. He and almost all of his siblings appeared to have inherited their father's determination for earnest simplicity and found their peace on the battlefield where white was white and black was black. Their mother's social skill, grace and poise seemed to have been lost somewhere down the line with perhaps only Silas having the easy empathy of interaction to get along with all those he came across. Everyone else in the Kotas tribe was too hard-headed and blunt to manage any kind of political decorum. Their power and skill with a blade had saved them from having to pander to others. And the Colchian Courts and nobility were about loyalty to the powerful. So, the Kotas had never been highly judged for their inability to sweet talk. Instead, their fighting prowess had saved them from ever having to showcase such a weakness at all.
But Taengea was very different. A kingdom built on integration, social chatter and business deals. It was impossible to have gold in your pocket in Taengea without first having silver in your mouth. And it appeared that the prince of the kingdom had managed to secure all three: gold, silver and the power of a militant leader. It wasn't really a great wonder as to how he had secured the loyalty and backing of the Taengean nobility enough to outcast the current king.
Which Vangelis had only found out about the night before. Not only had the Lady Theodora paid him a visit and informed him of the severity of King Stephanos' general absence from public. But Master Magnus had returned from his investigations not an hour after the noble woman had left and given Vangelis the entire report. He was now fully informed of exactly how the Senate meet had gone down and how Irakles had snatched at the opportunity to closet Stephanos and his wife Olympia away in their rooms in the palati. And Stephanos' words in Theodora's mouth had been incredibly true as far as Vangelis could see it. The King and Queen of Taengea would not survive until their trial. Especially if (as it was strongly looking) the Creeder Stephanos had tortured proved to have indeed been speaking of Irakles. A man able to kill his own brother and eldest nephew would have no qualms dealing with the rest of that side of his family. Just as soon as he could find the excuse to do it.
Luckily for Stephanos, the man had summoned an Egyptian embassy to Taengea. Irakles would be hard pushed to kill off the king in some horrendously false suicide claim just before a foreign dignitary came for a short stay. As much as Irakles might love war and (who knew) take Taengea abroad in more ways than one, he would want it done on his own terms when he was ready. He wouldn't be able to show weakness surrounding Taengea's king to an ambassador recently housed within a palace that he would know the fortifications of. It just made bad military logistics.
No, Vangelis decided, as he assessed the situation whilst washing his face in the water dish he had been brought. Prince Irakles, if he was behind all of this, would wait until the Egyptian messenger had left and would then make a move to kill the King and Queen before a trial could come to pass.
Vangelis found himself clenching the edges of the wash basin with knuckles the bleached white, his jaw tightening. It was an impossible situation and one that he hated but there was nothing that could be done to save Stephanos and his wife. The only thing that Vangelis could think of was for them to somehow encourage Olympia's labour. Whilst Irakles could claim all kinds of hysteria on a pregnant woman's part in taking her own life prior to the birth, he would have a far harder time convincing the Senate that either the king or queen murdered their own infant child. Especially if the baby was born male.
Irritated, Vangelis growled a little in frustration as he took up a towelling cloth and attacked his wet hair, rubbing back and forth roughly. He had saved Olympia's life once. Rescued her from a cultist intent on holding her until she was beneath the wheels of oncoming chariots. She had been pregnant then so, logical dictated, that Vangelis had also saved the life of her baby. Which left him feeling decidedly hollow that that child was now about to be born into the world and he couldn't save it again. Couldn't give it safe passage to be born.
Pulling his head free of the cloth, Vangelis clamped his jaws together angrily and was tempted to throw something, though he wasn't often a violent man when it came to his emotions.
What he had said to Theodora was true. He could help them. He could help to rescue the King and Queen but if such an attempt failed then the consequences to fall upon Colchis were too great for him to risk. Stephanos was openly regarded as treasonous to his own crown. The helping of a traitor was treason also and to commit such a crime in another kingdom when against the Peace Union made between the Grecian lands. Vangelis would be breaking the strongest agreement to ever have existed between Athenia, Colchis and Taengea and would be opening doors wide to whatever scheme or plan Irakles might be saving for his own reign.
Were he his own man, Vangelis would have done it. His own life he cared little for when it came to what was right and wrong, when it came to innocent life being threatened and when it came down to people who were just plain bullies. But he was not his own man. He was Crown Prince of Colchis. And this was not a decision he himself was allowed to make.
And there was no time to get a letter to and from his father in the Northlands.
Which meant the choice was on him and him alone and Vangelis wasn't willing to make that choice, in a way that could severely hinder the people he was sworn to protect. Stephanos was his friend, Olympia sister to Selene and their child was innocent. But three lives for the sake of the thousands that had died before the Peace Union was in place? There was no argument to that. And he had to be loyal to that logic.
Which was why, the last thing in the world Vangelis wanted to do right now, was attend a royal gathering, help by Prince Irakles, surrounded by Leventis and being watched like a hawk by a foreign military general.
Not to mention playing chaperone to his cousin Imeeya who had insisted on coming along.
War would have seriously been preferable at this point in his morning.
Frustrated at his own impotence over the whole thing, Vangelis threw aside the towel he held and quickly dressed himself.
As this was a formal event, he garbed himself accordingly.
The double shouldered chiton that he gowned himself with were of a navy blue and inscribed with golden thread down each edge. It was sleeveless, fixed only over each shoulder with a leather marker and his upper arms were left bare. His forearms, on the other hand, he strapped on leather bracers. The chiton was cinched at his waist with a few ropes of leather and then trailed to the ground at full length, one side offering a slit to his mid-thigh. His sandals were height quality black leather and tied to his knees. He wore no weapons, as he thought it unlikely he would be permitted to carry them - plus he would have his guards in attendance - and he had even consented to having his hair cut the previous evening. Instead of the longer locks that needed a tie back that he had worn when Theodora had visited, he had had the hair trimmed back to his shorter style. Cut razor short on either side of his head and towards the back of his neck, it was a cut that he often wore when on a war campaign and gave his features a sharper and harsher look to them. Over his chiton he wore another gold worked garment - a himation in white that he wore over one shoulder and fastened to the opposing hip. In his entirety, Vangelis looked quite the well put together prince. Which meant it was only appropriate that he wore the golden band around his head that made the title official.
Despite a whispered compliment from one of the maids that had assisted him in the himation, Vangelis felt utterly ridiculous and was eager to leave the Order House and reach the Palati quickly, if only so that he could return sooner and wear something less official.
His wish was duly granted as Vangelis found Imeeya ready and waiting for his arrival along with Magnus. The man was Master Informer of Colchis and not attending such a public event would only look suspicious. Whether his present at the court session would prove useful or not was still to be seen, but it was worth a try nonetheless.
The journey to the royal palati was quiet and uneventful but this was likely because all were in their own thoughts. Imeeya had wished to attend so was likely pondering upon it. And there was nothing Magnus and Vangelis could discuss regarding his purpose in Taengea with Imeeya present. The carriage of three was a silent affair for the entire journey.
When they arrived at the palati, however, the opposite was true, as the three of them were approached by footmen and servants and aides of all sorts, ensuring that their weapons were removed, their outer garments - if they had any - were taken and stored and that they were greeted and then announced with appropriate aplomb and circumstance. Vangelis bore the entire thing with an expression of sombre stone, his features offering neither his thoughts nor his feelings upon any of the process. His shoulders remained broad in their alert attention and his height dominant as he ensured his stone was straight for a maximum view of the royal gallery where the Egyptian embassy was to be greeted.
The room was already full of Taengean nobility. Men in their finest linens and silks, women in their most ostentatious jewellery, the silk of their oiled hair shining brighter than some of their gowns. It was clear to see that the entirety of Taengea's welcoming and friendly people were intent on ensuring a proper reception for the Egyptian diplomat and general.
Vangelis took a steadying breath. Politics were so hypocritical. Roll out the welcome mat and ensure yourself to be as beautiful as you can in order to greet a man who, if Egypt and Greece were ever at odds again, would be one of the leaders trying to destroy you. It all just felt like a shallow game that Vangelis had no time for.
With the room as crowded as it was, Vangelis narrowed his eyes in order to try and identify who he might already know. Following Magnus' lead as they wandered the room, Vangelis kept his arm out and crooked for his cousin Imeeya to take, escorting her through the room. With things the way they were, he wasn't about to let the girl out of his sight unless he knew her to be in safe hands.
Upon finding an open space in the room where he might be able to hover and still witness the entrance of the ambassador and the Prince when they so arrived, Vangelis was careful to avoid the eyes of those he might not wish to speak to and, instead, kept his attentions scanning the room, assessing who was there and - sometimes more significantly - who was not, not realising he had placed himself near to the Leventi family who stood just behind him...