Achilleas had risen early, run through the drills that were as much part of his day as eating or sleeping. It was easier before the sun was too fierce. The clack of practice swords in the courtyard was a sign that the elder son of Irakles was in residence, and Achilleas found some relief in the familiar, after so unsettling a day had passed before. His opponent, a young guard, Proteus, was still a little green but he was fast, and the General had been surprised when the youth had managed to catch him a solid whack across the knuckles. He laughed at the expression of horror upon Proteus’ face as he saw that the skin had split, bright red blood welling, but Achilleas had clapped him on the shoulder and commended him on the strike. He would bleed with his men, they were no different that way.
Now, bathed, garbed in a fresh Chiton and with a cloth wrapped around said hand, he had settled himself in his study, intent on attacking some of the paperwork he had failed at the day before. There had been a missive from the Palati that had arrived whilst he was training, and Achilleas recognised his father’s script immediately. There was a dim flicker of unease at what it would contain - more news pertaining to the now disgraced King? Some way in which he wanted to embroil his son further in this mess?
With a sigh, Achilleas reached for it and in one deft motion, broke the seal, unfolded the paper and let it dangle from his fingers as he read it through.
Achilleas,
Your choices worry me. I've reminded you of the need to place the importance of Taengea and the glory of the kingdom beyond flippant relations you pursue with your cousins. It appears you decided to not heed my advice, and in the event as such, I request all of Euttica's further accounts and documents to be sent to me before you could further approve them. Any approval has to come from me, and I have sent my scribe to inform all in Euttica of such a change in events.
I will hand the decision making for Dynasteia Mikaelidas to Emilios. Your wedding to Lady Theodora is imperative.
Prince Irakles of Mikaelidas
The Lord Mikaelidas stared, reread the words again as he felt a hot prickle of anger lick up the base of his spine, draw his shoulders tight and cut the line of his jaw into a sharp, uncompromising edge. He could not….
But the words were clear on the page, irrefutable, and Achilleas’ fingers tightened around the paper a moment until with an inarticulate cry of disbelief he threw it away from him. It wasn’t enough though, his hand closing around a paperweight, smooth polished obsidian and without meaning to, without consciously thinking of it, he had launched it across the room. It crashed into the opposing wall with a noise loud enough to echo around the manor, and shocked Achilleas enough that the fog of fury cleared a little.
“...it appears you decided not to heed my advice…”
The vote. He had known it would displease his father, had fully expected to be called to account for it, but this? This was embarrassing. Sixteen years! Sixteen years he had run his barony and now to be..
There was a hurried pitter patter of sandalled feet and the door swung open, a concerned face peering in “My Lord I heard a crash”
“ GET OUT!” Achilleas roared, and the poor startled servant ran. It was not often that the older of the two brothers lost his temper, but when he did, it was as hot as Hades, and just had to be left to burn itself out.
It aggravated Achilleas more that news of his reaction would reach his father, through Meena or those same servants who would spend the rest of the afternoon sneaking about and trying to stay out of his way. He breathed through his nose and tried to regain some of the composure he was was better known for.
This was not a public admonishment - to outsiders nothing would change, but Achilleas felt it keenly nonetheless. His father’s unsubtle way of yanking on his reins as he would do a wilful horse. Fall in line or watch what happens. It stung his pride more than anything.
With a sigh, the man picked up the missive again, considered the cost of his show of loyalty to Stephanos. He should’ve expected as much, perhaps. The papers that he had been so diligently about to work through sat mockingly before him, as if to compound his father’s message. Later, when he had calmed somewhat, he would sort those papers that related to Euttica and have them delivered to the Palati with a curt note accompanying them.
For now though, he reached glumly for the wine that sat next to them and busied himself with that instead.
While his brother was up being a good example of what a soldier should do, Emilios was still in bed attempting to recover from a night of drinking alone. His cousin and confidante was under house arrest, and his father had uprooted the whole kingdom.
To the youngest, it seemed as if it was only done for the sake of self gain. But he had heard the whispers among the other senators— it was about time that someone looked out for the kingdom who had a good head on his shoulders. The prince had made a point to make an impression on those that mattered, and now he was the Regent in place of his cousin.
What was his father trying to accomplish?
As soon as he had done his duty as a son, Emilios had gone to the palati to check on Stephanos, only to find that ‘the king wasn’t taking any visitors’. He called bullshit on that, but didn’t press the matter as he knew it would get back to his father who would have been upset by his insistence on seeing ‘the murderer’. Left to drink alone, Emilios spent the night deep in liquor. And spent the morning sleeping off a hangover.
The rap on his door felt far louder than it really was, echoing in his ears. The dark cloth on the window had been closed to allow his sleep, but the door opened and maids burst in, busying themselves with letting in annoying light and a breakfast that smelt a bit too strongly of fish. He groaned as they worked, slowly pulling himself out of bed to sit at the small table by the window. As the servants made their way out, one handed him a letter, the seal of his father bold and obvious.
It was too early for this shit.
Emilios
Your brother is otherwise indisposed to attend to matters of his wedding. You are to takeover duties in handling the House matters, as I am busy acting in Stephanos's stead.
I trust you will handle matters appropriately. Remain in the capitol manor during the time.
Irakles.
It was definitely too early for this shit.
So not only had father made a point to take over the throne from his nephew, he’d removed all responsibility from his eldest son, who hadn’t supported him when the time came. Achilleas had discovered his backbone, and it came at a price. But Emilios hadn’t asked for his job, not when he wanted his brother’s bride instead. Didn’t seem like he would be that lucky either.
All work and no Theo made Emilios a dull boy.
He, for once, made quick work on his breakfast, deciding that if he’d gotten a letter like this, Achilleas probably had as well. It was no surprised that it only took him a few moments to eat the meats offered (but the fish was taken with the servants) before he dressed in a simple pair of riding pants and a white shirt. Making his way over to the rooms that his brother occupied, it was impossible to miss his roar of anger. Leave it to their father to ruin both of their mornings with an informal letter.
Watching as the servant fled his brother’s room, the youngest son gave him a moment to calm down before pushing through the door. Grinning, it was impossible not to notice the wine in his brother’s hand. ”Using my methods is unlike you, brother. I see Father has ruined your morning as well.” Crossing the room, he took a seat in an open chair, kicking his leg up on the arm. ”He’s a gem, that one.”
His brother’s grinning face was not what Achilleas wanted to be confronted with in that moment. But Emilios did not wait for an invitation - he never did - and so the elder just glared at him as he came in and made himself at home, setting down the cup of wine at his sibling’s insouciant observation.
“He wrote to you too?” Achilleas guessed, and with an aggravated huff of breath, he picked up the missive he had been sent and threw it toward his brother. “ I know why he does it” he said through gritted teeth. “ But this is ridiculous”
It made him ridiculous, and that was not a thing that Achilleas had ever born well. Pushing up and away from the desk he sat behind, the man had seized the wine again and was pacing the space, gesticulating
“I dont know where he thinks he will get the time to pay any attention to Euttica!” he ranted. “What with snatching up the title of acting Regent without blinking! And I am supposed to what? Sit around here and think carefully about my choices?!” There was an edge of derision to his voice but Achilleas knew that was exactly what his father intended. It was a message, and one that he did not know how he could ignore. That was what galled him the most. In spite of his accolades, his reputation, everything his hard work had gone into, everything that he claimed as his own was still ultimately at the say so of his father. And the man knew him well enough to know what strings to pull upon if Achilleas did something not to his liking.
He had been naive not to consider this when he had declined to vote, had not thought Irakles would do anything so direct. But he was wrong in that, it would seem.
That knowledge, the truth of the precarious position he had put himself in saw the initial flare of his anger fade to something more slow burn, and the warrior folded abruptly back into his seat, draining the wine and discarding the vessel carelessly upon the desk.. What did he care if it bled onto the papers he would not be attending to.
A moment later, Achilleas had righted the cup.
“What did he have to say to you?” he asked Emilios, sounding almost weary. “ Are you in the dog house too? Or is that just my good fortune?”
He had not seen his brother since they had been dismissed the day prior, and he looked at him properly then, saw the slightly pallid complexion and it gave him pause. His brother did not look like he had spent his evening as pleasurably as Achilleas had, not unsurprising given the events of the day. He felt a little foolish as he thought on that, his cause for discontent paling into insignificance compared to others, depending on which way you saw the truth. “Did you see Stephanos?” He asked, unwinding the cloth that he’d bound about his hand earlier and flexing his fingers. It stung a little where the skin had split, but the sharpness of it grounded him and Achilleas began to feel more himself again. Albeit himself a little unsettled by the shifting sands that had appeared beneath their feet. “ Does he plan to contest it…..can he?”
He liked his brother angry. It made him seem far more human, far more like him than he had seen. The poster boy for their father’s disappointment, Emilios was used to being judged differently for his actions. But the sandal on the other foot, he wasn’t sure exactly what to do with his sudden elevation in his father’s graces. ”Of course he did. You think he would ruin your day without taking a hit on mine as well? He’s always liked to make sure we are on even footing, in that regard.” Picking up the letter Achilleas tossed on his chest, he read it carefully, surprised by it.
Usually a brief man, the letter was quite telling of his father’s overall disappointment in how he acted during the senate meeting.
”He won’t get the time to focus on it. That’s the point.” Setting the letter back down on his table, Emilios settled into the chair, kicking his feet up onto a small, empty section of the desk. ”If you aren’t attending to your affairs, and he’s not, then he can blame you once he’s done punishing you. He’s always been a fan of power struggles.” There was a casualness in his statement, but he tended to be pretty casual about everything. Even his preference of bow was a casual one, far less physical than his brother’s love of the sword. And he was just as deadly with it.
It was hard not to feel bad for his brother at this point. Having been the perfect son, simple transgressions were major disappointments to their father. And it seemed that he was more than willing to let him know exactly how he felt about his choice. It was a pity, to be frank. Achilleas was trying to show his own political stance and was being openly chastised for it. ”He’s just put me in charge, fat lot I’ll actually have to do. You know his steward will do all the work. I’ll just get to attach the seal. Not like there will be much to do.” His father would see that he wasn’t given any real power. At least, not yet.
At the question, he head shook, ”No. I tried, but the guards brushed me off. Saying he ‘didn’t wish to be bothered’. Which I know is a lie, simply because he would have wanted to know what had happened since he was escorted from the Senate.” He was worried for his cousin, simply because he didn’t know what was going to happen. Even with his father as Regent, if Olympia produced a son, that child would be the next in line. Not Achilleas (as if he wanted it), which would only make it more likely that his father would do something stupid.
At what point would enough be enough?
”I would imagine he will try to contest it. I mean, as much as he sleeps around, there must a whore in the city who can vouch for his location when they were killed. If anyone knows Stephanos, and you and I both do, he would not have killed them for the throne.” He leaned forward, hands on his knees. ”The last thing he wanted was the responsibility of ruling.” They both knew that. ”Do we chance outright calling our father a liar over the matter?” Emilios preferred to let things happen, to try a different way to change things.
Besides, their father wouldn’t do anything drastic.
The older of the two brothers frowned. He didn’t understand, had never understood, Emilios’ ability to be so blasé about things. Everything just seemed to roll off his shoulders without even leaving a mark, whereas Achilleas collected it all until he thought he might stagger under the weight. And whilst his brother could sit there and casually observe their father’s actions, Achilleas could feel his stomach twisted up in knots over it, over what it might mean and what he would need to do to get himself back into the man’s good graces. He was envious of Emilios in that regard.
He looked seriously at his brother for a moment “ You should use it” he said, of the transfer of the House duties. “ Use it as an opportunity to show him what you are capable of...if you actually want that kind of thing” The last was said with a raised brow, for Achilleas found it somehow hard to imagine: his laid back brother actually desiring to tie himself down to responsibility and governance.
The brief trace of amusement faded though as talk turned to Stephanos. It had all ended so..inelegantly, and Achilleas winced at the thought of the memory his cousin would have left the Senate with, all flailing limbs and spitting curses. He had appeared almost unhinged. But he could not help but agree with Emilios’ assertion that Stephanos was not one who had ever craved the crown. He was far too happy living his life of debauchery. He considered the chances of an alibi being found, the liklihood of which would depend on someone going to search one out, and with Stephanos confined to his chambers, who would do that? Did he have those close to him to take up his cause?
His brother’s thoughts seemed to follow the same path, but Achilleas’ head jerked up in shock at what he suggested. “ I’m bloody well not going to” he replied, in answer to Emilios’ question as to whether they called their father out. “ He would not even speak to me after, and then this?” he flicked the missive in disgust. “ I do not have a lot of room for manouver, brother, so you will excuse me not poking the lion any further”
But there was a stir of guilt at the plight of their cousin and Achilleas spoke on. “ Surely Stephanos must have someone else who can advocate for him, who will turn up what he needs to exonerate himself?” Emilios would know, the pair of them were thick as thieves. With a sigh, the older of the pair pushed a hand through his hair, leaving the dark thatch uncharastically ruffled. Like its owner.
“You look like death” he observed, glancing at his brother’s pale face again. “ Heavy night?” And he thought of the way he had spent his own evening, and recalled that he had meant to speak to Emilios of it. In spite of everything, and even trying to be respectful, it was still difficult to keep the edge of a smile off his lips as he began.
“I saw Theodora last night” he began casually, idly turning his stylus over in his hand, the other resting casually atop his thigh. “Saw rather a lot of her if you understand” Blue eyes lifted to rest upon an almost matching pair, and Achilleas expression was firm. “ And no, I am not going to tell you about it, I just…” here he frowned and tapped the end of the pen against the edge of the desk, betraying his discomfort. “ It was certainly not new to her. Not that I expected…” Well no, perhaps he had expected. Or hoped. He wasn’t sure. “ I just didnt know she had been involved with someone before, I wondered if you did? You are closer to that sort of thing than I” He meant whatever gossip circulated around Vasiliadon. Emilios was well liked, sociable. More available for such frivolity than himself, and so confided in more often, he thought.