The chatbox has been hidden for this page. It will reopen upon refresh. To hide the CBox permanently, select "Permanently Toggle Cbox" in your profile User Settings.
This chatbox is hidden. To reopen, edit your User Settings.
There had been a distinct unease since the reception with the Egyptian embassy. That they had been present whilst the kingdom was unbalanced by internal strife was far from ideal, and Achilleas had been unable to shake the idea that their foreign friends would see that uncertainty as weakness, look to exploit it where they could. He had summoned the Commander Alexios to discuss such concerns with him, and had come away from that conversation with at least a clearer understanding of how those Taengean forces stationed in Judea faired, but still no less concerned with what might lay ahead.
As seemed to be the way at the moment, discussion with his father had gotten him nowhere save for the man stating he would discuss it with the Master of War, but Achilleas was not content to just sit back and wait for something to happen. That was not his way. And if he could not push his father into preparing for eventualities then he could at least ensure his own unit was as ready for anything as they could be.
Though it was walking the rather blurry line of what he still had say so over versus what Irakles had snatched back in that petty action after the senate meet, Achilleas was prepared to bear the man’s ire should it come to it. He had asked his Captain to reach out regarding importing some arms from Colchis, to ensure the Taengean Lions had full armouries. It was prudent at the best of times, and even more so when he could not dismiss the idea of fallout from the disastrous reception.
Krysto had come back saying he’d found a man who could broker such a deal in a reasonable time frame, and if he were honest, Achilleas was glad to make some time in his day to meet with said man - a blessed relief from being hassled about wedding arrangements that he had little to no interest in.
The freshly minted Crown Prince was in his study, looking over the ledgers that Krysto had provided that detailed the current stores back in Euttica and checking the recommendations his Captain had put forward. They seemed sensible, and Achilleas was ready to sign them off and add his seal if this importer proved to be worth his salt. He was relying on the assumption that his position as Commander would remain unaffected by whatever missive his father had sent to Euttica , privately withdrawing his son’s authority over matters. If it turned out not to be so then he could foresee yet another uncomfortable conversation with the man. The King, as he now was, had made his point, and Achilleas had outwardly at least attempted to show some contrition since. He wondered how long his father intended to continue with this little charade. Was he supposed to go back to Euttica with Theodora and continue to send all documents onto the King for approval? It stung everytime he had to do it, and would be untenable to try and run his barony if that continued.
Drumming his fingers on the polished wood of the desk, the Prince sighed heavily and tried not think anymore on that. Better do what he could, for now, and then he could deal with the rest of that mess after the wedding. Particularly given all his father seemed to have to say to him currently was ‘ensure the wedding is all in order’.
The rap on the door was a welcome distraction then, and Achilleas’s gaze lifted to settle upon the entryway expectantly. “Enter” came the quiet instruction. No doubt his visitor had arrived and been granted entry by the stewards whom the Prince had forewarned of his presence. Achilleas did not stand, but rather remained sitting behind the large table, the window at his back flooding the room with pale morning light. He set down his pen and folded his hands across his stomach as he waited on the merchant to be shown in. This arrangement was at least one thing that should be simple.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
There had been a distinct unease since the reception with the Egyptian embassy. That they had been present whilst the kingdom was unbalanced by internal strife was far from ideal, and Achilleas had been unable to shake the idea that their foreign friends would see that uncertainty as weakness, look to exploit it where they could. He had summoned the Commander Alexios to discuss such concerns with him, and had come away from that conversation with at least a clearer understanding of how those Taengean forces stationed in Judea faired, but still no less concerned with what might lay ahead.
As seemed to be the way at the moment, discussion with his father had gotten him nowhere save for the man stating he would discuss it with the Master of War, but Achilleas was not content to just sit back and wait for something to happen. That was not his way. And if he could not push his father into preparing for eventualities then he could at least ensure his own unit was as ready for anything as they could be.
Though it was walking the rather blurry line of what he still had say so over versus what Irakles had snatched back in that petty action after the senate meet, Achilleas was prepared to bear the man’s ire should it come to it. He had asked his Captain to reach out regarding importing some arms from Colchis, to ensure the Taengean Lions had full armouries. It was prudent at the best of times, and even more so when he could not dismiss the idea of fallout from the disastrous reception.
Krysto had come back saying he’d found a man who could broker such a deal in a reasonable time frame, and if he were honest, Achilleas was glad to make some time in his day to meet with said man - a blessed relief from being hassled about wedding arrangements that he had little to no interest in.
The freshly minted Crown Prince was in his study, looking over the ledgers that Krysto had provided that detailed the current stores back in Euttica and checking the recommendations his Captain had put forward. They seemed sensible, and Achilleas was ready to sign them off and add his seal if this importer proved to be worth his salt. He was relying on the assumption that his position as Commander would remain unaffected by whatever missive his father had sent to Euttica , privately withdrawing his son’s authority over matters. If it turned out not to be so then he could foresee yet another uncomfortable conversation with the man. The King, as he now was, had made his point, and Achilleas had outwardly at least attempted to show some contrition since. He wondered how long his father intended to continue with this little charade. Was he supposed to go back to Euttica with Theodora and continue to send all documents onto the King for approval? It stung everytime he had to do it, and would be untenable to try and run his barony if that continued.
Drumming his fingers on the polished wood of the desk, the Prince sighed heavily and tried not think anymore on that. Better do what he could, for now, and then he could deal with the rest of that mess after the wedding. Particularly given all his father seemed to have to say to him currently was ‘ensure the wedding is all in order’.
The rap on the door was a welcome distraction then, and Achilleas’s gaze lifted to settle upon the entryway expectantly. “Enter” came the quiet instruction. No doubt his visitor had arrived and been granted entry by the stewards whom the Prince had forewarned of his presence. Achilleas did not stand, but rather remained sitting behind the large table, the window at his back flooding the room with pale morning light. He set down his pen and folded his hands across his stomach as he waited on the merchant to be shown in. This arrangement was at least one thing that should be simple.
There had been a distinct unease since the reception with the Egyptian embassy. That they had been present whilst the kingdom was unbalanced by internal strife was far from ideal, and Achilleas had been unable to shake the idea that their foreign friends would see that uncertainty as weakness, look to exploit it where they could. He had summoned the Commander Alexios to discuss such concerns with him, and had come away from that conversation with at least a clearer understanding of how those Taengean forces stationed in Judea faired, but still no less concerned with what might lay ahead.
As seemed to be the way at the moment, discussion with his father had gotten him nowhere save for the man stating he would discuss it with the Master of War, but Achilleas was not content to just sit back and wait for something to happen. That was not his way. And if he could not push his father into preparing for eventualities then he could at least ensure his own unit was as ready for anything as they could be.
Though it was walking the rather blurry line of what he still had say so over versus what Irakles had snatched back in that petty action after the senate meet, Achilleas was prepared to bear the man’s ire should it come to it. He had asked his Captain to reach out regarding importing some arms from Colchis, to ensure the Taengean Lions had full armouries. It was prudent at the best of times, and even more so when he could not dismiss the idea of fallout from the disastrous reception.
Krysto had come back saying he’d found a man who could broker such a deal in a reasonable time frame, and if he were honest, Achilleas was glad to make some time in his day to meet with said man - a blessed relief from being hassled about wedding arrangements that he had little to no interest in.
The freshly minted Crown Prince was in his study, looking over the ledgers that Krysto had provided that detailed the current stores back in Euttica and checking the recommendations his Captain had put forward. They seemed sensible, and Achilleas was ready to sign them off and add his seal if this importer proved to be worth his salt. He was relying on the assumption that his position as Commander would remain unaffected by whatever missive his father had sent to Euttica , privately withdrawing his son’s authority over matters. If it turned out not to be so then he could foresee yet another uncomfortable conversation with the man. The King, as he now was, had made his point, and Achilleas had outwardly at least attempted to show some contrition since. He wondered how long his father intended to continue with this little charade. Was he supposed to go back to Euttica with Theodora and continue to send all documents onto the King for approval? It stung everytime he had to do it, and would be untenable to try and run his barony if that continued.
Drumming his fingers on the polished wood of the desk, the Prince sighed heavily and tried not think anymore on that. Better do what he could, for now, and then he could deal with the rest of that mess after the wedding. Particularly given all his father seemed to have to say to him currently was ‘ensure the wedding is all in order’.
The rap on the door was a welcome distraction then, and Achilleas’s gaze lifted to settle upon the entryway expectantly. “Enter” came the quiet instruction. No doubt his visitor had arrived and been granted entry by the stewards whom the Prince had forewarned of his presence. Achilleas did not stand, but rather remained sitting behind the large table, the window at his back flooding the room with pale morning light. He set down his pen and folded his hands across his stomach as he waited on the merchant to be shown in. This arrangement was at least one thing that should be simple.
His stint in the crude jail under the order house had been blessedly short. When he’d been led away, he had given Lord Achilleas a malevolent grin and a promise of retribution. The time spent bored and pent up in his cell had at least been in the company of his first mate, who’d been taken by the guards first. Without Captain or First Mate, his ship would remain in the harbor until Catos, third in line in the loose ranking system Lukos had on his ship, could figure out where they’d gone and what had happened to them. On the second day they were there, Catos had paid a visit and promised freedom. That much could be paid for. Vasiliadon was as corrupt a city as they came and if certain palms held enough coins, just about any crime could be swept under the rug and forgotten.
As it happened, this only needed to be done for Arktos. Lukos found himself mysteriously freed and faster than his first mate, too. He had an educated guess as to who his mysterious benefactor was, but a day or so later, all that had been flung out the window. He’d been stabbed and shut up with Kreios for a few days following, still attempting to heal from that. There was only so much he could take of the poison merchant, however, and he’d gone back to his ship, rather than stay in that odious man’s presence. The days turned into a week and a half since the stabbing and while he wasn’t in amazing condition, he could definitely walk around, if he was careful and slow.
Leaning against the mast of his ship, a man had asked to speak with him and through that conversation, he found himself being summoned to Lord Achilleas’s house, of all people. Lukos thought about telling the man to go fuck himself, but his curiosity was too much to resist. Was it Lord Achilleas who’d seen to it that he got out of prison? And why? His first guess had been his sister, but with no contact since, he was beginning to doubt that it was she. She knew he was here; she always did, but that didn’t mean they had much to do with one another. Blood connected them, and only then, just barely. On his side, at least.
“I’ll be there in the course of the morning,” he’d said and then was left with the perplexing need to actually impress this lord. Sighing deeply within himself, he went down into his cabin, sifting through his clothes until he found a chiton that was clean and presentable, that preserved the rank between them but also gave himself an air of respectability. It was a shame to waste it on Achilleas of Mikaelidas, but, perhaps, maybe not. Maybe Lord Achilleas was mature enough to put their differences behind them, and truly, being in this state, Lukos did not want a repeat of their battle at the temple. That he would save for another day. Now that he’d faced Taengea’s greatest warrior, he had some ideas for next time. There would be a next time.
He smirked to himself as he moved carefully down the gangway, onto the docks, and into the city. His destination was the bathhouse. Though he was clean enough, he suspected another trip wouldn’t hurt and he was intrigued enough by Lord Achilleas’s invitation for business that he wanted to at least appear as though he was able to fulfill the request; which, of course he was. This sort of dealing with a noble was not foreign to Lukos and he knew the game they liked to play - he’d be contrite and humble, the sort of grateful commoner they wanted, giving them exactly what they asked for, and taking a markup in gold in the process. Business.
Once dressed like a merchant in his dark blue tunic and maroon himation, and not the sailor Lord Achilleas had fought before, Lukos presented himself to the Mikaelidas manor. Because he looked like any other merchant, if seriously darker in complexion than most, the steward didn’t seem to think anything amiss. Lukos did not fear ambush in Lord Mikaelidas’s home. That would be beneath a man of Lord Achilleas’s ability. Begrudgingly, Lukos respected the man for technique, if nothing else.
He looked around the home without comment as the steward led him through pristine rooms dominated by the red and gold of the house’s colors. The red was one he liked and fit well against the white stone that the rest of the city shared with this manor. Vasiliadon was interesting in its persistence in uniformity. At least among the elite houses, at least.
Adopting a reserve pose, he clasped his hands in front of him and followed the steward to the study, where he was gestured to go ahead and enter. He did so, eyeing Lord Achilleas behind his desk. The look on Lord Achilleas’s face when they made eye contact was enough to make Lukos frown. That wasn’t the look of a man who’d called him and now he was wondering if this had been some sort of joke played by someone else. If it was, he was going to reign down fire.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
His stint in the crude jail under the order house had been blessedly short. When he’d been led away, he had given Lord Achilleas a malevolent grin and a promise of retribution. The time spent bored and pent up in his cell had at least been in the company of his first mate, who’d been taken by the guards first. Without Captain or First Mate, his ship would remain in the harbor until Catos, third in line in the loose ranking system Lukos had on his ship, could figure out where they’d gone and what had happened to them. On the second day they were there, Catos had paid a visit and promised freedom. That much could be paid for. Vasiliadon was as corrupt a city as they came and if certain palms held enough coins, just about any crime could be swept under the rug and forgotten.
As it happened, this only needed to be done for Arktos. Lukos found himself mysteriously freed and faster than his first mate, too. He had an educated guess as to who his mysterious benefactor was, but a day or so later, all that had been flung out the window. He’d been stabbed and shut up with Kreios for a few days following, still attempting to heal from that. There was only so much he could take of the poison merchant, however, and he’d gone back to his ship, rather than stay in that odious man’s presence. The days turned into a week and a half since the stabbing and while he wasn’t in amazing condition, he could definitely walk around, if he was careful and slow.
Leaning against the mast of his ship, a man had asked to speak with him and through that conversation, he found himself being summoned to Lord Achilleas’s house, of all people. Lukos thought about telling the man to go fuck himself, but his curiosity was too much to resist. Was it Lord Achilleas who’d seen to it that he got out of prison? And why? His first guess had been his sister, but with no contact since, he was beginning to doubt that it was she. She knew he was here; she always did, but that didn’t mean they had much to do with one another. Blood connected them, and only then, just barely. On his side, at least.
“I’ll be there in the course of the morning,” he’d said and then was left with the perplexing need to actually impress this lord. Sighing deeply within himself, he went down into his cabin, sifting through his clothes until he found a chiton that was clean and presentable, that preserved the rank between them but also gave himself an air of respectability. It was a shame to waste it on Achilleas of Mikaelidas, but, perhaps, maybe not. Maybe Lord Achilleas was mature enough to put their differences behind them, and truly, being in this state, Lukos did not want a repeat of their battle at the temple. That he would save for another day. Now that he’d faced Taengea’s greatest warrior, he had some ideas for next time. There would be a next time.
He smirked to himself as he moved carefully down the gangway, onto the docks, and into the city. His destination was the bathhouse. Though he was clean enough, he suspected another trip wouldn’t hurt and he was intrigued enough by Lord Achilleas’s invitation for business that he wanted to at least appear as though he was able to fulfill the request; which, of course he was. This sort of dealing with a noble was not foreign to Lukos and he knew the game they liked to play - he’d be contrite and humble, the sort of grateful commoner they wanted, giving them exactly what they asked for, and taking a markup in gold in the process. Business.
Once dressed like a merchant in his dark blue tunic and maroon himation, and not the sailor Lord Achilleas had fought before, Lukos presented himself to the Mikaelidas manor. Because he looked like any other merchant, if seriously darker in complexion than most, the steward didn’t seem to think anything amiss. Lukos did not fear ambush in Lord Mikaelidas’s home. That would be beneath a man of Lord Achilleas’s ability. Begrudgingly, Lukos respected the man for technique, if nothing else.
He looked around the home without comment as the steward led him through pristine rooms dominated by the red and gold of the house’s colors. The red was one he liked and fit well against the white stone that the rest of the city shared with this manor. Vasiliadon was interesting in its persistence in uniformity. At least among the elite houses, at least.
Adopting a reserve pose, he clasped his hands in front of him and followed the steward to the study, where he was gestured to go ahead and enter. He did so, eyeing Lord Achilleas behind his desk. The look on Lord Achilleas’s face when they made eye contact was enough to make Lukos frown. That wasn’t the look of a man who’d called him and now he was wondering if this had been some sort of joke played by someone else. If it was, he was going to reign down fire.
His stint in the crude jail under the order house had been blessedly short. When he’d been led away, he had given Lord Achilleas a malevolent grin and a promise of retribution. The time spent bored and pent up in his cell had at least been in the company of his first mate, who’d been taken by the guards first. Without Captain or First Mate, his ship would remain in the harbor until Catos, third in line in the loose ranking system Lukos had on his ship, could figure out where they’d gone and what had happened to them. On the second day they were there, Catos had paid a visit and promised freedom. That much could be paid for. Vasiliadon was as corrupt a city as they came and if certain palms held enough coins, just about any crime could be swept under the rug and forgotten.
As it happened, this only needed to be done for Arktos. Lukos found himself mysteriously freed and faster than his first mate, too. He had an educated guess as to who his mysterious benefactor was, but a day or so later, all that had been flung out the window. He’d been stabbed and shut up with Kreios for a few days following, still attempting to heal from that. There was only so much he could take of the poison merchant, however, and he’d gone back to his ship, rather than stay in that odious man’s presence. The days turned into a week and a half since the stabbing and while he wasn’t in amazing condition, he could definitely walk around, if he was careful and slow.
Leaning against the mast of his ship, a man had asked to speak with him and through that conversation, he found himself being summoned to Lord Achilleas’s house, of all people. Lukos thought about telling the man to go fuck himself, but his curiosity was too much to resist. Was it Lord Achilleas who’d seen to it that he got out of prison? And why? His first guess had been his sister, but with no contact since, he was beginning to doubt that it was she. She knew he was here; she always did, but that didn’t mean they had much to do with one another. Blood connected them, and only then, just barely. On his side, at least.
“I’ll be there in the course of the morning,” he’d said and then was left with the perplexing need to actually impress this lord. Sighing deeply within himself, he went down into his cabin, sifting through his clothes until he found a chiton that was clean and presentable, that preserved the rank between them but also gave himself an air of respectability. It was a shame to waste it on Achilleas of Mikaelidas, but, perhaps, maybe not. Maybe Lord Achilleas was mature enough to put their differences behind them, and truly, being in this state, Lukos did not want a repeat of their battle at the temple. That he would save for another day. Now that he’d faced Taengea’s greatest warrior, he had some ideas for next time. There would be a next time.
He smirked to himself as he moved carefully down the gangway, onto the docks, and into the city. His destination was the bathhouse. Though he was clean enough, he suspected another trip wouldn’t hurt and he was intrigued enough by Lord Achilleas’s invitation for business that he wanted to at least appear as though he was able to fulfill the request; which, of course he was. This sort of dealing with a noble was not foreign to Lukos and he knew the game they liked to play - he’d be contrite and humble, the sort of grateful commoner they wanted, giving them exactly what they asked for, and taking a markup in gold in the process. Business.
Once dressed like a merchant in his dark blue tunic and maroon himation, and not the sailor Lord Achilleas had fought before, Lukos presented himself to the Mikaelidas manor. Because he looked like any other merchant, if seriously darker in complexion than most, the steward didn’t seem to think anything amiss. Lukos did not fear ambush in Lord Mikaelidas’s home. That would be beneath a man of Lord Achilleas’s ability. Begrudgingly, Lukos respected the man for technique, if nothing else.
He looked around the home without comment as the steward led him through pristine rooms dominated by the red and gold of the house’s colors. The red was one he liked and fit well against the white stone that the rest of the city shared with this manor. Vasiliadon was interesting in its persistence in uniformity. At least among the elite houses, at least.
Adopting a reserve pose, he clasped his hands in front of him and followed the steward to the study, where he was gestured to go ahead and enter. He did so, eyeing Lord Achilleas behind his desk. The look on Lord Achilleas’s face when they made eye contact was enough to make Lukos frown. That wasn’t the look of a man who’d called him and now he was wondering if this had been some sort of joke played by someone else. If it was, he was going to reign down fire.
The door opened, and through it stepped a man that Achilleas had hoped he would have the good fortune never to look upon again.How on earth? The Mikaelidas heir had first become acquainted with the dark haired man several days earlier, when he had attempted to pay tribute to the goddess Aphrodite in preparation for the wedding. Such pious plans had been sent askew however, by the presence of this very man and his companion. That the ruffian had been so bold as to actually attack Achilleas still brought a flash of anger to bear in the Prince, but it was more than that now.
When he’d taught the man a lesson with the sharp end of a sword, Achilleas had been well within his rights to see him sent to the Fylaki, his intent that the scoundrel spend a couple of weeks ruminating on the wisdom of his choices. And that should have been the end of it. He would have been content at that. But then there had been that godsforsaken letter, and the physician who had dared to present invoice for his services to patch up the prisoner.. He had been given short shrift by Achilleas, who had summarily advised another week’s confinement be added to the tally. And then, much like a persistent fly that would not disappear, the baron’s attention had once more been brought to the prisoner. To Achilleas dismay, it appeared that somehow the ingrate he had been faced with at the temple had...unexpected connections. He’d been paid a visit from a person it was ill-advised to ignore, and though it had galled him to give the order to release the man, given it he had.
The only small comfort Achilleas had been able to find in the whole mess was that he would never have to see the cretin again. And now. Now he was standing right in front of him, in his home. For a moment, he blinked, a last hope that he was mistaken, and then his gaze narrowed, and the now Crown Prince of Taengea had pushed to his feet, hands curling into fists at his side.
“You!” The word, accusatory almost, spilled out quite without his say so, and Achilleas shut his mouth firmly before he said anything else.
He could scarcely believe it, the absolute nerve of this man, and he wanted nothing more than to finish the job he’d started at the temple and avenge the wounded pride he felt at having had to release the idiot. But he knew he could not. With the wedding so near, he could ill-afford to upset his future in-laws, and he knew that his father would not look kindly upon such a happening either. It was a burden he had long since learned to bear- that sometimes who he was would mean he could not give in to wants, and that he had to make wiser choices. And so with some great control, the Prince willed himself to relax, set his expression into something approaching calm and downgraded the glare he sent at the servant who had shown the man in from incendiary to scorching. He took a deep breath before returning his gaze to the dark-haired man.
“Master...Lukos,isn’t it? I confess, this is a surprise. I was expecting...someone else. What brings you here?”
He took in the man’s more formal attire, crude but serviceable,and the fact that he appeared to have made some effort to make himself presentable. Interesting. If he had come to gloat however, Achilleas could not swear that he would hold his temper.
But in the hope he would be given no reason to lose it, he swept a hand out for the other man to take a seat. If the man had troubled enough to seek an audience then Achilleas would give him one, even if his smile was hiding gritted teeth.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
The door opened, and through it stepped a man that Achilleas had hoped he would have the good fortune never to look upon again.How on earth? The Mikaelidas heir had first become acquainted with the dark haired man several days earlier, when he had attempted to pay tribute to the goddess Aphrodite in preparation for the wedding. Such pious plans had been sent askew however, by the presence of this very man and his companion. That the ruffian had been so bold as to actually attack Achilleas still brought a flash of anger to bear in the Prince, but it was more than that now.
When he’d taught the man a lesson with the sharp end of a sword, Achilleas had been well within his rights to see him sent to the Fylaki, his intent that the scoundrel spend a couple of weeks ruminating on the wisdom of his choices. And that should have been the end of it. He would have been content at that. But then there had been that godsforsaken letter, and the physician who had dared to present invoice for his services to patch up the prisoner.. He had been given short shrift by Achilleas, who had summarily advised another week’s confinement be added to the tally. And then, much like a persistent fly that would not disappear, the baron’s attention had once more been brought to the prisoner. To Achilleas dismay, it appeared that somehow the ingrate he had been faced with at the temple had...unexpected connections. He’d been paid a visit from a person it was ill-advised to ignore, and though it had galled him to give the order to release the man, given it he had.
The only small comfort Achilleas had been able to find in the whole mess was that he would never have to see the cretin again. And now. Now he was standing right in front of him, in his home. For a moment, he blinked, a last hope that he was mistaken, and then his gaze narrowed, and the now Crown Prince of Taengea had pushed to his feet, hands curling into fists at his side.
“You!” The word, accusatory almost, spilled out quite without his say so, and Achilleas shut his mouth firmly before he said anything else.
He could scarcely believe it, the absolute nerve of this man, and he wanted nothing more than to finish the job he’d started at the temple and avenge the wounded pride he felt at having had to release the idiot. But he knew he could not. With the wedding so near, he could ill-afford to upset his future in-laws, and he knew that his father would not look kindly upon such a happening either. It was a burden he had long since learned to bear- that sometimes who he was would mean he could not give in to wants, and that he had to make wiser choices. And so with some great control, the Prince willed himself to relax, set his expression into something approaching calm and downgraded the glare he sent at the servant who had shown the man in from incendiary to scorching. He took a deep breath before returning his gaze to the dark-haired man.
“Master...Lukos,isn’t it? I confess, this is a surprise. I was expecting...someone else. What brings you here?”
He took in the man’s more formal attire, crude but serviceable,and the fact that he appeared to have made some effort to make himself presentable. Interesting. If he had come to gloat however, Achilleas could not swear that he would hold his temper.
But in the hope he would be given no reason to lose it, he swept a hand out for the other man to take a seat. If the man had troubled enough to seek an audience then Achilleas would give him one, even if his smile was hiding gritted teeth.
The door opened, and through it stepped a man that Achilleas had hoped he would have the good fortune never to look upon again.How on earth? The Mikaelidas heir had first become acquainted with the dark haired man several days earlier, when he had attempted to pay tribute to the goddess Aphrodite in preparation for the wedding. Such pious plans had been sent askew however, by the presence of this very man and his companion. That the ruffian had been so bold as to actually attack Achilleas still brought a flash of anger to bear in the Prince, but it was more than that now.
When he’d taught the man a lesson with the sharp end of a sword, Achilleas had been well within his rights to see him sent to the Fylaki, his intent that the scoundrel spend a couple of weeks ruminating on the wisdom of his choices. And that should have been the end of it. He would have been content at that. But then there had been that godsforsaken letter, and the physician who had dared to present invoice for his services to patch up the prisoner.. He had been given short shrift by Achilleas, who had summarily advised another week’s confinement be added to the tally. And then, much like a persistent fly that would not disappear, the baron’s attention had once more been brought to the prisoner. To Achilleas dismay, it appeared that somehow the ingrate he had been faced with at the temple had...unexpected connections. He’d been paid a visit from a person it was ill-advised to ignore, and though it had galled him to give the order to release the man, given it he had.
The only small comfort Achilleas had been able to find in the whole mess was that he would never have to see the cretin again. And now. Now he was standing right in front of him, in his home. For a moment, he blinked, a last hope that he was mistaken, and then his gaze narrowed, and the now Crown Prince of Taengea had pushed to his feet, hands curling into fists at his side.
“You!” The word, accusatory almost, spilled out quite without his say so, and Achilleas shut his mouth firmly before he said anything else.
He could scarcely believe it, the absolute nerve of this man, and he wanted nothing more than to finish the job he’d started at the temple and avenge the wounded pride he felt at having had to release the idiot. But he knew he could not. With the wedding so near, he could ill-afford to upset his future in-laws, and he knew that his father would not look kindly upon such a happening either. It was a burden he had long since learned to bear- that sometimes who he was would mean he could not give in to wants, and that he had to make wiser choices. And so with some great control, the Prince willed himself to relax, set his expression into something approaching calm and downgraded the glare he sent at the servant who had shown the man in from incendiary to scorching. He took a deep breath before returning his gaze to the dark-haired man.
“Master...Lukos,isn’t it? I confess, this is a surprise. I was expecting...someone else. What brings you here?”
He took in the man’s more formal attire, crude but serviceable,and the fact that he appeared to have made some effort to make himself presentable. Interesting. If he had come to gloat however, Achilleas could not swear that he would hold his temper.
But in the hope he would be given no reason to lose it, he swept a hand out for the other man to take a seat. If the man had troubled enough to seek an audience then Achilleas would give him one, even if his smile was hiding gritted teeth.
The extraordinary change to Lord Achilleas’s face made Lukos grin and he pressed his fist hard against his mouth until he’d mastered himself. Only then did he reclasp his hands behind his back while pressing his lips into a thin line. When he first walked into this room, Lord Achilleas’s expression was expectant, if a little bored. The widening the lord’s pale blue eyes, opening so far that they almost popped out of his head while he gaped. Lukos nearly laughed again as color swept up from Achilleas’s neck to his cheeks, blooming first pink, shifting to red, subtly changing to purple rage, only for that to drain away, leaving him pale and furious.
“You!” the lord spluttered in his direction and Lukos was unable to stop himself now. A laugh erupted from him and he pointed at Achilleas. Lukos’s laugh afflicted his whole body and he threw his head back, hand on his chest, bending at the knees as he leaned back, nearly against the closed door, threatening to collapse against it. His teeth were brilliant and straight, a feat that not everyone could boast of. His laughter took away much of the usual surliness of his face and gave him a completely different, altogether handsome appearance that was sure to further enflame the lord who’d clamped his mouth shut.
“Me!” Lukos confirmed, gasping for breath. He could already see the problem. There was a mistake, of some kind, because Lord Achilleas would not have that shocked response if he’d been totally aware of who was coming through the door. This only made it funnier for Lukos, who loved the expression of utter loathing that he inspired in Lord Achilleas so much that he’d have paid to have someone paint Achilleas’s face just so, and he’d have hung it on the wall of his cabin on the ship. The dumbfounded bewilderment that Achilleas displayed was priceless and he only wished he’d gotten the other man to do it through deliberate means, rather than the consequence of an accident.
He could practically see Achilleas’s thoughts floating across perfectly chiseled features. Lukos eyed the vein throbbing out over Achilleas’s temple and he arched an eyebrow. Such restraint! Because he was fairly certain that the other man was fantasizing about having his hands around his throat and crushing the life from him. Thankfully, thoughts were not reality, but it did make Lukos more and more curious about why he was standing here, when this lord so clearly did not know that he would be meeting with him. Who had arranged this meeting, then? And to what purpose?
His dark eyes slid from Achilleas, questing around the room for some associate of the baron’s who might have wanted to play a joke. Their fight had been public and there were a few titters around town about it for days. The gossip died once something more salacious came along, but if Lukos was a betting man, and he was, he’d have lain money that Achilleas had at least one friend who would waste such time as to set this up. Rich men had very little to occupy their lives with, than using commoners as some sort of game.
In another amazing feat of fortitude, Lukos watched Achilleas’s blazing rage lower itself to a frothing boil, then regress even further into a simmer. The color returned to the man’s face and, and, aside from what Lukos fancied to still be two adorable pink flowers in the man’s cheeks, he appeared remarkably calm. It was a little eerie the way that this man could flare up and come almost immediately back down that it made Lukos wonder if he was entirely sane. Or maybe wound far, far too tightly and someday he’d explode.
“Master...Lukos,isn’t it? I confess, this is a surprise. I was expecting...someone else. What brings you here?”
“Masterful control on that temper,” he said, half grinning, folding his arms over his chest now and tilting his head to observe Achilleas like Achilleas was some exotic bird in a cage. Then he dared to take a step toward Achilleas, like they might actually do business together, since Achilleas was showing such a delightful willingness to be respectful. As he should.
“Business,” he said, the words coming out between his wolf’s grin. “I was summoned. Forgive me, but I assumed that a man as important as yourself would know what his steward was up to?” Lukos took another step, not bringing them within reaching distance, but definitely in the danger zone. “I run a tight ship,” he said. “I’d be happy to tell you the proper running of servants. It can’t be that different.”
Lukos did not immediately accept Achilleas’s invitation for him to sit because he didn’t trust it, and, more importantly, it would put him in a position of weakness. Something he didn’t want to be in where this man was concerned. He wanted the ability to leap out the window if he needed to. Or perhaps over the desk.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
The extraordinary change to Lord Achilleas’s face made Lukos grin and he pressed his fist hard against his mouth until he’d mastered himself. Only then did he reclasp his hands behind his back while pressing his lips into a thin line. When he first walked into this room, Lord Achilleas’s expression was expectant, if a little bored. The widening the lord’s pale blue eyes, opening so far that they almost popped out of his head while he gaped. Lukos nearly laughed again as color swept up from Achilleas’s neck to his cheeks, blooming first pink, shifting to red, subtly changing to purple rage, only for that to drain away, leaving him pale and furious.
“You!” the lord spluttered in his direction and Lukos was unable to stop himself now. A laugh erupted from him and he pointed at Achilleas. Lukos’s laugh afflicted his whole body and he threw his head back, hand on his chest, bending at the knees as he leaned back, nearly against the closed door, threatening to collapse against it. His teeth were brilliant and straight, a feat that not everyone could boast of. His laughter took away much of the usual surliness of his face and gave him a completely different, altogether handsome appearance that was sure to further enflame the lord who’d clamped his mouth shut.
“Me!” Lukos confirmed, gasping for breath. He could already see the problem. There was a mistake, of some kind, because Lord Achilleas would not have that shocked response if he’d been totally aware of who was coming through the door. This only made it funnier for Lukos, who loved the expression of utter loathing that he inspired in Lord Achilleas so much that he’d have paid to have someone paint Achilleas’s face just so, and he’d have hung it on the wall of his cabin on the ship. The dumbfounded bewilderment that Achilleas displayed was priceless and he only wished he’d gotten the other man to do it through deliberate means, rather than the consequence of an accident.
He could practically see Achilleas’s thoughts floating across perfectly chiseled features. Lukos eyed the vein throbbing out over Achilleas’s temple and he arched an eyebrow. Such restraint! Because he was fairly certain that the other man was fantasizing about having his hands around his throat and crushing the life from him. Thankfully, thoughts were not reality, but it did make Lukos more and more curious about why he was standing here, when this lord so clearly did not know that he would be meeting with him. Who had arranged this meeting, then? And to what purpose?
His dark eyes slid from Achilleas, questing around the room for some associate of the baron’s who might have wanted to play a joke. Their fight had been public and there were a few titters around town about it for days. The gossip died once something more salacious came along, but if Lukos was a betting man, and he was, he’d have lain money that Achilleas had at least one friend who would waste such time as to set this up. Rich men had very little to occupy their lives with, than using commoners as some sort of game.
In another amazing feat of fortitude, Lukos watched Achilleas’s blazing rage lower itself to a frothing boil, then regress even further into a simmer. The color returned to the man’s face and, and, aside from what Lukos fancied to still be two adorable pink flowers in the man’s cheeks, he appeared remarkably calm. It was a little eerie the way that this man could flare up and come almost immediately back down that it made Lukos wonder if he was entirely sane. Or maybe wound far, far too tightly and someday he’d explode.
“Master...Lukos,isn’t it? I confess, this is a surprise. I was expecting...someone else. What brings you here?”
“Masterful control on that temper,” he said, half grinning, folding his arms over his chest now and tilting his head to observe Achilleas like Achilleas was some exotic bird in a cage. Then he dared to take a step toward Achilleas, like they might actually do business together, since Achilleas was showing such a delightful willingness to be respectful. As he should.
“Business,” he said, the words coming out between his wolf’s grin. “I was summoned. Forgive me, but I assumed that a man as important as yourself would know what his steward was up to?” Lukos took another step, not bringing them within reaching distance, but definitely in the danger zone. “I run a tight ship,” he said. “I’d be happy to tell you the proper running of servants. It can’t be that different.”
Lukos did not immediately accept Achilleas’s invitation for him to sit because he didn’t trust it, and, more importantly, it would put him in a position of weakness. Something he didn’t want to be in where this man was concerned. He wanted the ability to leap out the window if he needed to. Or perhaps over the desk.
The extraordinary change to Lord Achilleas’s face made Lukos grin and he pressed his fist hard against his mouth until he’d mastered himself. Only then did he reclasp his hands behind his back while pressing his lips into a thin line. When he first walked into this room, Lord Achilleas’s expression was expectant, if a little bored. The widening the lord’s pale blue eyes, opening so far that they almost popped out of his head while he gaped. Lukos nearly laughed again as color swept up from Achilleas’s neck to his cheeks, blooming first pink, shifting to red, subtly changing to purple rage, only for that to drain away, leaving him pale and furious.
“You!” the lord spluttered in his direction and Lukos was unable to stop himself now. A laugh erupted from him and he pointed at Achilleas. Lukos’s laugh afflicted his whole body and he threw his head back, hand on his chest, bending at the knees as he leaned back, nearly against the closed door, threatening to collapse against it. His teeth were brilliant and straight, a feat that not everyone could boast of. His laughter took away much of the usual surliness of his face and gave him a completely different, altogether handsome appearance that was sure to further enflame the lord who’d clamped his mouth shut.
“Me!” Lukos confirmed, gasping for breath. He could already see the problem. There was a mistake, of some kind, because Lord Achilleas would not have that shocked response if he’d been totally aware of who was coming through the door. This only made it funnier for Lukos, who loved the expression of utter loathing that he inspired in Lord Achilleas so much that he’d have paid to have someone paint Achilleas’s face just so, and he’d have hung it on the wall of his cabin on the ship. The dumbfounded bewilderment that Achilleas displayed was priceless and he only wished he’d gotten the other man to do it through deliberate means, rather than the consequence of an accident.
He could practically see Achilleas’s thoughts floating across perfectly chiseled features. Lukos eyed the vein throbbing out over Achilleas’s temple and he arched an eyebrow. Such restraint! Because he was fairly certain that the other man was fantasizing about having his hands around his throat and crushing the life from him. Thankfully, thoughts were not reality, but it did make Lukos more and more curious about why he was standing here, when this lord so clearly did not know that he would be meeting with him. Who had arranged this meeting, then? And to what purpose?
His dark eyes slid from Achilleas, questing around the room for some associate of the baron’s who might have wanted to play a joke. Their fight had been public and there were a few titters around town about it for days. The gossip died once something more salacious came along, but if Lukos was a betting man, and he was, he’d have lain money that Achilleas had at least one friend who would waste such time as to set this up. Rich men had very little to occupy their lives with, than using commoners as some sort of game.
In another amazing feat of fortitude, Lukos watched Achilleas’s blazing rage lower itself to a frothing boil, then regress even further into a simmer. The color returned to the man’s face and, and, aside from what Lukos fancied to still be two adorable pink flowers in the man’s cheeks, he appeared remarkably calm. It was a little eerie the way that this man could flare up and come almost immediately back down that it made Lukos wonder if he was entirely sane. Or maybe wound far, far too tightly and someday he’d explode.
“Master...Lukos,isn’t it? I confess, this is a surprise. I was expecting...someone else. What brings you here?”
“Masterful control on that temper,” he said, half grinning, folding his arms over his chest now and tilting his head to observe Achilleas like Achilleas was some exotic bird in a cage. Then he dared to take a step toward Achilleas, like they might actually do business together, since Achilleas was showing such a delightful willingness to be respectful. As he should.
“Business,” he said, the words coming out between his wolf’s grin. “I was summoned. Forgive me, but I assumed that a man as important as yourself would know what his steward was up to?” Lukos took another step, not bringing them within reaching distance, but definitely in the danger zone. “I run a tight ship,” he said. “I’d be happy to tell you the proper running of servants. It can’t be that different.”
Lukos did not immediately accept Achilleas’s invitation for him to sit because he didn’t trust it, and, more importantly, it would put him in a position of weakness. Something he didn’t want to be in where this man was concerned. He wanted the ability to leap out the window if he needed to. Or perhaps over the desk.
He did not like to think himself easiy riled, but perhaps that was a fallacy, and what set Achilleas apart was not his reactions, but the way in which he’d learnt to govern them, shut them down. He’d learnt from a young age that displays of emotion were not favoured by his father, and so mostly, the Mikaelidas heir was able to surpress such reactions, to keep in place that polished perfection that was expectation. Mostly.
This man in particular seemed to have a knack for getting under his skin, and Achilleas knew he had betrayed himself as he read the man’s amusement. He’d been caught off guard had not been quick enough, had shown too much. And now the man was laughing at him. That in itself was motivation enough to see him keep the tenous hold he had upon his temper so as not to provide further entertainment, and he drew a long breath in through his nose. Held it. Exhaled just as slowly.
Breathe. The imbecile’s laughter was distracting, but the noble had focus honed over years.
Breathe.
Breathe. Don’t stab.Don’t fold the man up into a little ball and hurl him through the shuttered window at his back no matter how much you want to.
Breathe.
‘Masterful control of that temper’ The comment was met with a thin smile that did not reach Achilleas’ eyes, but the Lord did not shift from his position behind the desk, did not take the few short steps he would need to carry him toward this ruffian and finish what he had begun. Instead he waited patiently,the smile becoming a little fixed as he waited for Lukos’ explanatation as to why he was there. And when it came,a brief look of exasperation was sent towards the skies and Achilleas thought he might strangle Krysto with his bare hands instead if he had to behave with this fool.
“I.See” came the very distinct, very clipped words that heralded some dawning comprehension, and it was Achilleas’ turn to tilt his head a little as he surveyed Lukos with a little more interest. Whatever his ungentle feelings toward Krysto were in that moment, the Lord nevertheless valued and trusted the man’s opinion. He must have had some reason to put the reprehensible lout forward for the task Achilleas had in mind. Whether or not Achilleas could actually bear the notion of employing the man was another matter entirely.
Distracted again though by the idiot’s smart talking, the retort was sharply bitten out. “If you wish it to remain in your mouth, then I suggest you curb your smart tongue. I have no use for it and my patience is not infinite.”
Did he have any at all for this man who had already wronged him and then escaped just punishment? Achilleas stared at Lukos for a few beats, trying to decide if he even wanted to waste his breath having the conversation. He could just have the man thrown out and save himself the effort of staying calm in the face of his provocation. But his faith in Krysto had him stamp down on his pride and tipped his resolve in his visitor’s favour. Momentarily at least. Noting the man’s reluctance to sit, the Prince made a point of taking his own seat, no positioning would ever have him consider himself weak in comparison to the man in front of him. He folded his hands into his lap, looked over at Lukos and shrugged.
“If you were sent here then you must have convinced someone you have more ability than your countenance suggests. So, tell me. What can you do?”
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
He did not like to think himself easiy riled, but perhaps that was a fallacy, and what set Achilleas apart was not his reactions, but the way in which he’d learnt to govern them, shut them down. He’d learnt from a young age that displays of emotion were not favoured by his father, and so mostly, the Mikaelidas heir was able to surpress such reactions, to keep in place that polished perfection that was expectation. Mostly.
This man in particular seemed to have a knack for getting under his skin, and Achilleas knew he had betrayed himself as he read the man’s amusement. He’d been caught off guard had not been quick enough, had shown too much. And now the man was laughing at him. That in itself was motivation enough to see him keep the tenous hold he had upon his temper so as not to provide further entertainment, and he drew a long breath in through his nose. Held it. Exhaled just as slowly.
Breathe. The imbecile’s laughter was distracting, but the noble had focus honed over years.
Breathe.
Breathe. Don’t stab.Don’t fold the man up into a little ball and hurl him through the shuttered window at his back no matter how much you want to.
Breathe.
‘Masterful control of that temper’ The comment was met with a thin smile that did not reach Achilleas’ eyes, but the Lord did not shift from his position behind the desk, did not take the few short steps he would need to carry him toward this ruffian and finish what he had begun. Instead he waited patiently,the smile becoming a little fixed as he waited for Lukos’ explanatation as to why he was there. And when it came,a brief look of exasperation was sent towards the skies and Achilleas thought he might strangle Krysto with his bare hands instead if he had to behave with this fool.
“I.See” came the very distinct, very clipped words that heralded some dawning comprehension, and it was Achilleas’ turn to tilt his head a little as he surveyed Lukos with a little more interest. Whatever his ungentle feelings toward Krysto were in that moment, the Lord nevertheless valued and trusted the man’s opinion. He must have had some reason to put the reprehensible lout forward for the task Achilleas had in mind. Whether or not Achilleas could actually bear the notion of employing the man was another matter entirely.
Distracted again though by the idiot’s smart talking, the retort was sharply bitten out. “If you wish it to remain in your mouth, then I suggest you curb your smart tongue. I have no use for it and my patience is not infinite.”
Did he have any at all for this man who had already wronged him and then escaped just punishment? Achilleas stared at Lukos for a few beats, trying to decide if he even wanted to waste his breath having the conversation. He could just have the man thrown out and save himself the effort of staying calm in the face of his provocation. But his faith in Krysto had him stamp down on his pride and tipped his resolve in his visitor’s favour. Momentarily at least. Noting the man’s reluctance to sit, the Prince made a point of taking his own seat, no positioning would ever have him consider himself weak in comparison to the man in front of him. He folded his hands into his lap, looked over at Lukos and shrugged.
“If you were sent here then you must have convinced someone you have more ability than your countenance suggests. So, tell me. What can you do?”
He did not like to think himself easiy riled, but perhaps that was a fallacy, and what set Achilleas apart was not his reactions, but the way in which he’d learnt to govern them, shut them down. He’d learnt from a young age that displays of emotion were not favoured by his father, and so mostly, the Mikaelidas heir was able to surpress such reactions, to keep in place that polished perfection that was expectation. Mostly.
This man in particular seemed to have a knack for getting under his skin, and Achilleas knew he had betrayed himself as he read the man’s amusement. He’d been caught off guard had not been quick enough, had shown too much. And now the man was laughing at him. That in itself was motivation enough to see him keep the tenous hold he had upon his temper so as not to provide further entertainment, and he drew a long breath in through his nose. Held it. Exhaled just as slowly.
Breathe. The imbecile’s laughter was distracting, but the noble had focus honed over years.
Breathe.
Breathe. Don’t stab.Don’t fold the man up into a little ball and hurl him through the shuttered window at his back no matter how much you want to.
Breathe.
‘Masterful control of that temper’ The comment was met with a thin smile that did not reach Achilleas’ eyes, but the Lord did not shift from his position behind the desk, did not take the few short steps he would need to carry him toward this ruffian and finish what he had begun. Instead he waited patiently,the smile becoming a little fixed as he waited for Lukos’ explanatation as to why he was there. And when it came,a brief look of exasperation was sent towards the skies and Achilleas thought he might strangle Krysto with his bare hands instead if he had to behave with this fool.
“I.See” came the very distinct, very clipped words that heralded some dawning comprehension, and it was Achilleas’ turn to tilt his head a little as he surveyed Lukos with a little more interest. Whatever his ungentle feelings toward Krysto were in that moment, the Lord nevertheless valued and trusted the man’s opinion. He must have had some reason to put the reprehensible lout forward for the task Achilleas had in mind. Whether or not Achilleas could actually bear the notion of employing the man was another matter entirely.
Distracted again though by the idiot’s smart talking, the retort was sharply bitten out. “If you wish it to remain in your mouth, then I suggest you curb your smart tongue. I have no use for it and my patience is not infinite.”
Did he have any at all for this man who had already wronged him and then escaped just punishment? Achilleas stared at Lukos for a few beats, trying to decide if he even wanted to waste his breath having the conversation. He could just have the man thrown out and save himself the effort of staying calm in the face of his provocation. But his faith in Krysto had him stamp down on his pride and tipped his resolve in his visitor’s favour. Momentarily at least. Noting the man’s reluctance to sit, the Prince made a point of taking his own seat, no positioning would ever have him consider himself weak in comparison to the man in front of him. He folded his hands into his lap, looked over at Lukos and shrugged.
“If you were sent here then you must have convinced someone you have more ability than your countenance suggests. So, tell me. What can you do?”
The threat of cutting out his tongue was hollow and they both knew it. He no more feared Achilleas’s wrath than he feared a bull behind a fence. To think that this lord was totally harmless was untrue. This man had the might of the house of Mikaelidas behind him, plus a reputation as a formidable warrior. But this wasn’t the battlefield and any of Lord Achilleas’s blind rage had to be controlled by social customs. In other words: the fence containing the bull. Even when they’d fought in the gardens surrounding Aphrodite’s temple, Lord Achilleas had shown restraint. A respect for law.
Lukos leaned forward, his sharp eyes locked onto Achilleas’s and never moving elsewhere. A smile ghosted his lips, but he did keep them shut for now. It didn’t suit his purpose to rile Achilleas further. He wasn’t here to entertain himself, nor was he here to make an enemy. Preferably, they could put their little dispute in the past, like adults, and move on. He doubted that Achilleas was always so tame and sedate as to never have an argument.
Lord Achilleas appeared to go through a serious of decisions, all leading down to the moment when he decided to give this meeting the chance it deserved. They were both dressed the part. Might as well put on the show, though Lukos had little doubt that he would not be walking out of here with a contract and that this was a massive waste of time. But then again, people were surprising sometimes, and it was for the one single, shred of chance that Achilleas might actually be fair, that Lukos stayed.
“If you were sent here then you must have convinced someone you have more ability than your countenance suggests. So, tell me. What can you do?” Achilleas said with all the backstabbing charm of his rank and title.
Lukos kept standing for another second, but then finally approached the chair that Achilleas meant for him to take. He leaned on it, grasping the chair’s frame, and using it to lean on. His attention wandered from Achilleas to take in the room. It was large, as most studies were in these sorts of villas. Bookshelves filled with tomes and papers lined one of the walls. He eyed the shelf, his gaze combing over the book spines, unable to actually make out what any of them said. A few letters were familiar, but not enough for him to be able to read them at this distance and he’d definitely need time alone with the book to make sense of it.
Pointing to the shelf, he said, “Which of these would you throw into the fire? If you had to? Which one’s the most worthless book?”
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
The threat of cutting out his tongue was hollow and they both knew it. He no more feared Achilleas’s wrath than he feared a bull behind a fence. To think that this lord was totally harmless was untrue. This man had the might of the house of Mikaelidas behind him, plus a reputation as a formidable warrior. But this wasn’t the battlefield and any of Lord Achilleas’s blind rage had to be controlled by social customs. In other words: the fence containing the bull. Even when they’d fought in the gardens surrounding Aphrodite’s temple, Lord Achilleas had shown restraint. A respect for law.
Lukos leaned forward, his sharp eyes locked onto Achilleas’s and never moving elsewhere. A smile ghosted his lips, but he did keep them shut for now. It didn’t suit his purpose to rile Achilleas further. He wasn’t here to entertain himself, nor was he here to make an enemy. Preferably, they could put their little dispute in the past, like adults, and move on. He doubted that Achilleas was always so tame and sedate as to never have an argument.
Lord Achilleas appeared to go through a serious of decisions, all leading down to the moment when he decided to give this meeting the chance it deserved. They were both dressed the part. Might as well put on the show, though Lukos had little doubt that he would not be walking out of here with a contract and that this was a massive waste of time. But then again, people were surprising sometimes, and it was for the one single, shred of chance that Achilleas might actually be fair, that Lukos stayed.
“If you were sent here then you must have convinced someone you have more ability than your countenance suggests. So, tell me. What can you do?” Achilleas said with all the backstabbing charm of his rank and title.
Lukos kept standing for another second, but then finally approached the chair that Achilleas meant for him to take. He leaned on it, grasping the chair’s frame, and using it to lean on. His attention wandered from Achilleas to take in the room. It was large, as most studies were in these sorts of villas. Bookshelves filled with tomes and papers lined one of the walls. He eyed the shelf, his gaze combing over the book spines, unable to actually make out what any of them said. A few letters were familiar, but not enough for him to be able to read them at this distance and he’d definitely need time alone with the book to make sense of it.
Pointing to the shelf, he said, “Which of these would you throw into the fire? If you had to? Which one’s the most worthless book?”
The threat of cutting out his tongue was hollow and they both knew it. He no more feared Achilleas’s wrath than he feared a bull behind a fence. To think that this lord was totally harmless was untrue. This man had the might of the house of Mikaelidas behind him, plus a reputation as a formidable warrior. But this wasn’t the battlefield and any of Lord Achilleas’s blind rage had to be controlled by social customs. In other words: the fence containing the bull. Even when they’d fought in the gardens surrounding Aphrodite’s temple, Lord Achilleas had shown restraint. A respect for law.
Lukos leaned forward, his sharp eyes locked onto Achilleas’s and never moving elsewhere. A smile ghosted his lips, but he did keep them shut for now. It didn’t suit his purpose to rile Achilleas further. He wasn’t here to entertain himself, nor was he here to make an enemy. Preferably, they could put their little dispute in the past, like adults, and move on. He doubted that Achilleas was always so tame and sedate as to never have an argument.
Lord Achilleas appeared to go through a serious of decisions, all leading down to the moment when he decided to give this meeting the chance it deserved. They were both dressed the part. Might as well put on the show, though Lukos had little doubt that he would not be walking out of here with a contract and that this was a massive waste of time. But then again, people were surprising sometimes, and it was for the one single, shred of chance that Achilleas might actually be fair, that Lukos stayed.
“If you were sent here then you must have convinced someone you have more ability than your countenance suggests. So, tell me. What can you do?” Achilleas said with all the backstabbing charm of his rank and title.
Lukos kept standing for another second, but then finally approached the chair that Achilleas meant for him to take. He leaned on it, grasping the chair’s frame, and using it to lean on. His attention wandered from Achilleas to take in the room. It was large, as most studies were in these sorts of villas. Bookshelves filled with tomes and papers lined one of the walls. He eyed the shelf, his gaze combing over the book spines, unable to actually make out what any of them said. A few letters were familiar, but not enough for him to be able to read them at this distance and he’d definitely need time alone with the book to make sense of it.
Pointing to the shelf, he said, “Which of these would you throw into the fire? If you had to? Which one’s the most worthless book?”
The constraints of civility were indeed a hard burden to bear sometimes. But the Crown Prince, although new to the title, had been practicing such restraint for many years. And whilst he knew he was not about to leap across the table and silence the man before him, there was nothing to stop Achilleas from fantasising about the idea that he might, and that had to be enough.
It was a technique he employed as he was faced with the quietly smug smile of the dark-haired man. How satisfying it would be to smack that smile off his face, and though his thoughts might have been leaning in a less than friendly direction, Achilleas was able to keep his expression perfectly placid, the polished exterior he had cultivated now fixed firmly into place.
And of course, there was the fact that he needed something, and years in the Senate had taught the Mikaelidas heir to play nicely when such was the case. Krysto did not know perhaps, of his history with this individual, but his Captain would not have let the man get this far if he did not have something tangible to offer, and so his question was thrown out as an invitation for Lukos to change his opinion.
His blue gaze was watchful as it followed the other’s movement toward the proffered seat, and there was the slightest lift of one dark brow when the man still did not sit, but instead let his attention roam around the room they were in. Achilleas was mildly impatient, unsure as to what the other was playing at, but he followed the man’s eyes to where they swept over the neatly organised bookshelves. There were books, scrolls, writing mostly centred around war strategy, but some others scattered throughout, and the odd decorative item that had somehow found its way into the study over the years that Achilleas had called it his own. The Prince frowned a little, he did not understand the fascination that visitors to this room seemed to find in those shelves, but he blinked at the question that was asked, the frown remaining. If the man even had the ability to read, he would have to readjust his beliefs about him a little.
“They are none of them worthless” Achilleas corrected, but he was curious as to the nature of the question, and so pushed to his feet a moment, moving to the shelf and plucking out a volume that he had read and reread enough times that he did not think it had anything further to offer him. Turning, he extended it toward the other man without missing a beat. “Do you read Altero often? He is insightful when it comes to siege warfare especially, but I daresay I could recite that by rote, so if there were to be a fire, then I could stand the loss.”
And then the Crown Prince had returned to his seat, once again looking expectantly upon his visitor. “I do not believe you have come here today to discuss our shared reading habits though, Master Lukos. So I ask again, what is it that made my Captain think you suitable for the business we have?”
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
The constraints of civility were indeed a hard burden to bear sometimes. But the Crown Prince, although new to the title, had been practicing such restraint for many years. And whilst he knew he was not about to leap across the table and silence the man before him, there was nothing to stop Achilleas from fantasising about the idea that he might, and that had to be enough.
It was a technique he employed as he was faced with the quietly smug smile of the dark-haired man. How satisfying it would be to smack that smile off his face, and though his thoughts might have been leaning in a less than friendly direction, Achilleas was able to keep his expression perfectly placid, the polished exterior he had cultivated now fixed firmly into place.
And of course, there was the fact that he needed something, and years in the Senate had taught the Mikaelidas heir to play nicely when such was the case. Krysto did not know perhaps, of his history with this individual, but his Captain would not have let the man get this far if he did not have something tangible to offer, and so his question was thrown out as an invitation for Lukos to change his opinion.
His blue gaze was watchful as it followed the other’s movement toward the proffered seat, and there was the slightest lift of one dark brow when the man still did not sit, but instead let his attention roam around the room they were in. Achilleas was mildly impatient, unsure as to what the other was playing at, but he followed the man’s eyes to where they swept over the neatly organised bookshelves. There were books, scrolls, writing mostly centred around war strategy, but some others scattered throughout, and the odd decorative item that had somehow found its way into the study over the years that Achilleas had called it his own. The Prince frowned a little, he did not understand the fascination that visitors to this room seemed to find in those shelves, but he blinked at the question that was asked, the frown remaining. If the man even had the ability to read, he would have to readjust his beliefs about him a little.
“They are none of them worthless” Achilleas corrected, but he was curious as to the nature of the question, and so pushed to his feet a moment, moving to the shelf and plucking out a volume that he had read and reread enough times that he did not think it had anything further to offer him. Turning, he extended it toward the other man without missing a beat. “Do you read Altero often? He is insightful when it comes to siege warfare especially, but I daresay I could recite that by rote, so if there were to be a fire, then I could stand the loss.”
And then the Crown Prince had returned to his seat, once again looking expectantly upon his visitor. “I do not believe you have come here today to discuss our shared reading habits though, Master Lukos. So I ask again, what is it that made my Captain think you suitable for the business we have?”
The constraints of civility were indeed a hard burden to bear sometimes. But the Crown Prince, although new to the title, had been practicing such restraint for many years. And whilst he knew he was not about to leap across the table and silence the man before him, there was nothing to stop Achilleas from fantasising about the idea that he might, and that had to be enough.
It was a technique he employed as he was faced with the quietly smug smile of the dark-haired man. How satisfying it would be to smack that smile off his face, and though his thoughts might have been leaning in a less than friendly direction, Achilleas was able to keep his expression perfectly placid, the polished exterior he had cultivated now fixed firmly into place.
And of course, there was the fact that he needed something, and years in the Senate had taught the Mikaelidas heir to play nicely when such was the case. Krysto did not know perhaps, of his history with this individual, but his Captain would not have let the man get this far if he did not have something tangible to offer, and so his question was thrown out as an invitation for Lukos to change his opinion.
His blue gaze was watchful as it followed the other’s movement toward the proffered seat, and there was the slightest lift of one dark brow when the man still did not sit, but instead let his attention roam around the room they were in. Achilleas was mildly impatient, unsure as to what the other was playing at, but he followed the man’s eyes to where they swept over the neatly organised bookshelves. There were books, scrolls, writing mostly centred around war strategy, but some others scattered throughout, and the odd decorative item that had somehow found its way into the study over the years that Achilleas had called it his own. The Prince frowned a little, he did not understand the fascination that visitors to this room seemed to find in those shelves, but he blinked at the question that was asked, the frown remaining. If the man even had the ability to read, he would have to readjust his beliefs about him a little.
“They are none of them worthless” Achilleas corrected, but he was curious as to the nature of the question, and so pushed to his feet a moment, moving to the shelf and plucking out a volume that he had read and reread enough times that he did not think it had anything further to offer him. Turning, he extended it toward the other man without missing a beat. “Do you read Altero often? He is insightful when it comes to siege warfare especially, but I daresay I could recite that by rote, so if there were to be a fire, then I could stand the loss.”
And then the Crown Prince had returned to his seat, once again looking expectantly upon his visitor. “I do not believe you have come here today to discuss our shared reading habits though, Master Lukos. So I ask again, what is it that made my Captain think you suitable for the business we have?”
Lukos watched Achilleas come around the desk. The two men stood shoulder to shoulder for a moment while the prince took stock of his own shelves. Looking at Achilleas’s profile, Lukos wondered if they’d smooth out that bump on the prince’s nose when they stamped his face on the Taengean currency or if they’d leave it. How vain was this man? Or did he prefer the cold, hard truth of imperfection? Eyes still on the other’s profile, Lukos touched his own jaw, comparing his to the almost perfect square that the other possessed.
“I’ve never heard of Altero,” he said and followed Achilleas back to the desk and didn’t bypass the proffered seat this time. The prince obviously wasn’t in the mood for games because he went right back to the original question, but Lukos merely settled into the chair and tested the armrests, rather than answer right away. This chair was well made and carved perfectly. It was all smooth, curving lines and gilt decoration. He wiggled his rear end and tilted his head to the side as his eyes drifted to nowhere in particular, listening for squeaking but the chair was silent. If he ever had need of furniture, he’d definitely steal the man responsible for this beauty.
“What made your captain think me suitable?” Lukos flicked his eyes at last to Achilleas and then let his attention drift above the man’s head. “I can’t speak for a man I only met today.” He clasped his hands together across his stomach and lounged back, totally at his ease. “If I was to hazard a guess, I’d say it’s because he did his due diligence and spoke to men of business in Vasiliadon. My name tends to crop up more often than not as someone dependable and discreet.”
Lukos dropped his dark gaze back to Achilleas and locked eyes with him. “I imagine your prejudice finds that fact distasteful.” A slow smirk crossed his features, making him look like a cat who’d just caught the family’s beloved canary. He knew without a shadow of a doubt that Achilles didn’t like him. He didn’t care. Liking a person had nothing whatsoever to do with business, and, according to the man who’d fetched him to this meeting, this was supposedly business.
Acknowledging within himself that he and Achilleas were still locked in their little pissing contest from the other week, Lukos sighed. Too much had happened to him since then to pay that over much care anymore. He considered Achilleas sitting with the landmass of desk between then and leaned forward. “What is it that you want?” he raised his brow. “I’m not usually sought unless whatever it is isn’t exactly legal.”
What was it that the prince needed, he wondered? People? Items that would be embarrassing to be publicly known about? Achilleas would hardly be the first or last person with weird proclivities and Lukos was prepared to hear about whatever it was without bursting into fits of laughter. For all that the rich made fun of commoners, he’d yet to meet a sicker group of people. Nobles could be disgusting in their tastes and pleasures.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Lukos watched Achilleas come around the desk. The two men stood shoulder to shoulder for a moment while the prince took stock of his own shelves. Looking at Achilleas’s profile, Lukos wondered if they’d smooth out that bump on the prince’s nose when they stamped his face on the Taengean currency or if they’d leave it. How vain was this man? Or did he prefer the cold, hard truth of imperfection? Eyes still on the other’s profile, Lukos touched his own jaw, comparing his to the almost perfect square that the other possessed.
“I’ve never heard of Altero,” he said and followed Achilleas back to the desk and didn’t bypass the proffered seat this time. The prince obviously wasn’t in the mood for games because he went right back to the original question, but Lukos merely settled into the chair and tested the armrests, rather than answer right away. This chair was well made and carved perfectly. It was all smooth, curving lines and gilt decoration. He wiggled his rear end and tilted his head to the side as his eyes drifted to nowhere in particular, listening for squeaking but the chair was silent. If he ever had need of furniture, he’d definitely steal the man responsible for this beauty.
“What made your captain think me suitable?” Lukos flicked his eyes at last to Achilleas and then let his attention drift above the man’s head. “I can’t speak for a man I only met today.” He clasped his hands together across his stomach and lounged back, totally at his ease. “If I was to hazard a guess, I’d say it’s because he did his due diligence and spoke to men of business in Vasiliadon. My name tends to crop up more often than not as someone dependable and discreet.”
Lukos dropped his dark gaze back to Achilleas and locked eyes with him. “I imagine your prejudice finds that fact distasteful.” A slow smirk crossed his features, making him look like a cat who’d just caught the family’s beloved canary. He knew without a shadow of a doubt that Achilles didn’t like him. He didn’t care. Liking a person had nothing whatsoever to do with business, and, according to the man who’d fetched him to this meeting, this was supposedly business.
Acknowledging within himself that he and Achilleas were still locked in their little pissing contest from the other week, Lukos sighed. Too much had happened to him since then to pay that over much care anymore. He considered Achilleas sitting with the landmass of desk between then and leaned forward. “What is it that you want?” he raised his brow. “I’m not usually sought unless whatever it is isn’t exactly legal.”
What was it that the prince needed, he wondered? People? Items that would be embarrassing to be publicly known about? Achilleas would hardly be the first or last person with weird proclivities and Lukos was prepared to hear about whatever it was without bursting into fits of laughter. For all that the rich made fun of commoners, he’d yet to meet a sicker group of people. Nobles could be disgusting in their tastes and pleasures.
Lukos watched Achilleas come around the desk. The two men stood shoulder to shoulder for a moment while the prince took stock of his own shelves. Looking at Achilleas’s profile, Lukos wondered if they’d smooth out that bump on the prince’s nose when they stamped his face on the Taengean currency or if they’d leave it. How vain was this man? Or did he prefer the cold, hard truth of imperfection? Eyes still on the other’s profile, Lukos touched his own jaw, comparing his to the almost perfect square that the other possessed.
“I’ve never heard of Altero,” he said and followed Achilleas back to the desk and didn’t bypass the proffered seat this time. The prince obviously wasn’t in the mood for games because he went right back to the original question, but Lukos merely settled into the chair and tested the armrests, rather than answer right away. This chair was well made and carved perfectly. It was all smooth, curving lines and gilt decoration. He wiggled his rear end and tilted his head to the side as his eyes drifted to nowhere in particular, listening for squeaking but the chair was silent. If he ever had need of furniture, he’d definitely steal the man responsible for this beauty.
“What made your captain think me suitable?” Lukos flicked his eyes at last to Achilleas and then let his attention drift above the man’s head. “I can’t speak for a man I only met today.” He clasped his hands together across his stomach and lounged back, totally at his ease. “If I was to hazard a guess, I’d say it’s because he did his due diligence and spoke to men of business in Vasiliadon. My name tends to crop up more often than not as someone dependable and discreet.”
Lukos dropped his dark gaze back to Achilleas and locked eyes with him. “I imagine your prejudice finds that fact distasteful.” A slow smirk crossed his features, making him look like a cat who’d just caught the family’s beloved canary. He knew without a shadow of a doubt that Achilles didn’t like him. He didn’t care. Liking a person had nothing whatsoever to do with business, and, according to the man who’d fetched him to this meeting, this was supposedly business.
Acknowledging within himself that he and Achilleas were still locked in their little pissing contest from the other week, Lukos sighed. Too much had happened to him since then to pay that over much care anymore. He considered Achilleas sitting with the landmass of desk between then and leaned forward. “What is it that you want?” he raised his brow. “I’m not usually sought unless whatever it is isn’t exactly legal.”
What was it that the prince needed, he wondered? People? Items that would be embarrassing to be publicly known about? Achilleas would hardly be the first or last person with weird proclivities and Lukos was prepared to hear about whatever it was without bursting into fits of laughter. For all that the rich made fun of commoners, he’d yet to meet a sicker group of people. Nobles could be disgusting in their tastes and pleasures.
The Lord’s mouth had lifted in the tiniest threat of a smile, he was not surprised that the other had not heard of Altero, nor studied his writings. He slotted the scroll back into its designated spot and then given that his guest did not apparently wish to discuss literature, returned to his seat and this time felt like he had won a small victory when the other sat too. He stared at Lukos when it seemed as if this were the first encounter with a chair that the other man had ever had, a bemused expression upon his face. Patience was a virtue that Achilleas had honed over many years now.
When eventually the ruffian seemed to have made himself quite comfortable, he saw fit to respond to the Achilleas’ question, though his initial answer hardly the Mikaelidas Lord the information he required.
“Dependable and discreet” Achilleas echoed, his eyes revealing just how doubtful he felt about those two claims even before the man had made his rather insulting proclamation. He shook his head, holding Lukos’ gaze steadily. “Prejudice suggests I have no experience upon which to base such an assumption, but we both know that isn’t true, Master Lukos”
Discreet was not a word he would have attributed to the man before him. There had been nothing subtle about the fellow nor his brute of a friend when they had first crossed paths at the temple of Aphrodite. And the only thing Achilleas would count in him dependable in was being obnoxious. Krysto must have been drunk. But for as much as the Lord nursed his injured pride over that incident, and indulged his distaste for the man in the quiet of his thoughts, he had long ago learned to separate personal feelings from duty and responsibility. Or at least he hid them well, and it was Achilleas’ duty to ensure they were prepared for the threat of the war.
So he did not flinch when Lukos leaned forwards but did look momentarily outraged at the notion that he would be looking for anything that went against the laws of the land.
“It is absolutely legal,” he said, with a hard look at the other man. “But I need it quickly. Arms, from Colchis, sooner the better. Can you do it?”
There was no point entertaining this fool any further if he could not, and if such were the case then Achilleas would really be annoyed at Krysto for having let the man get this far. But such would be unlike his friend, and so he waited, watched the other man’s face as he awaited his answer.
It was an ask. A voyage to Colchis could be two weeks anyway, and Achilleas wanted weapons sourcing and packing and back here before a month was much past. Perhaps he was reading too much into the murmur of threat from the South, but the lord was one who liked to be prepared, and he would do what he could to ensure he was not caught unawares and ill-equipped if murmurs were to turn into anything more substantial. He cleared his throat and spoke again.
“I expect quality, Master Lukos. And efficiency. If those are not things you can guarantee then there is no point wasting your time, and certainly not mine. So speak plainly and truthfully of what it is you can offer”
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
The Lord’s mouth had lifted in the tiniest threat of a smile, he was not surprised that the other had not heard of Altero, nor studied his writings. He slotted the scroll back into its designated spot and then given that his guest did not apparently wish to discuss literature, returned to his seat and this time felt like he had won a small victory when the other sat too. He stared at Lukos when it seemed as if this were the first encounter with a chair that the other man had ever had, a bemused expression upon his face. Patience was a virtue that Achilleas had honed over many years now.
When eventually the ruffian seemed to have made himself quite comfortable, he saw fit to respond to the Achilleas’ question, though his initial answer hardly the Mikaelidas Lord the information he required.
“Dependable and discreet” Achilleas echoed, his eyes revealing just how doubtful he felt about those two claims even before the man had made his rather insulting proclamation. He shook his head, holding Lukos’ gaze steadily. “Prejudice suggests I have no experience upon which to base such an assumption, but we both know that isn’t true, Master Lukos”
Discreet was not a word he would have attributed to the man before him. There had been nothing subtle about the fellow nor his brute of a friend when they had first crossed paths at the temple of Aphrodite. And the only thing Achilleas would count in him dependable in was being obnoxious. Krysto must have been drunk. But for as much as the Lord nursed his injured pride over that incident, and indulged his distaste for the man in the quiet of his thoughts, he had long ago learned to separate personal feelings from duty and responsibility. Or at least he hid them well, and it was Achilleas’ duty to ensure they were prepared for the threat of the war.
So he did not flinch when Lukos leaned forwards but did look momentarily outraged at the notion that he would be looking for anything that went against the laws of the land.
“It is absolutely legal,” he said, with a hard look at the other man. “But I need it quickly. Arms, from Colchis, sooner the better. Can you do it?”
There was no point entertaining this fool any further if he could not, and if such were the case then Achilleas would really be annoyed at Krysto for having let the man get this far. But such would be unlike his friend, and so he waited, watched the other man’s face as he awaited his answer.
It was an ask. A voyage to Colchis could be two weeks anyway, and Achilleas wanted weapons sourcing and packing and back here before a month was much past. Perhaps he was reading too much into the murmur of threat from the South, but the lord was one who liked to be prepared, and he would do what he could to ensure he was not caught unawares and ill-equipped if murmurs were to turn into anything more substantial. He cleared his throat and spoke again.
“I expect quality, Master Lukos. And efficiency. If those are not things you can guarantee then there is no point wasting your time, and certainly not mine. So speak plainly and truthfully of what it is you can offer”
The Lord’s mouth had lifted in the tiniest threat of a smile, he was not surprised that the other had not heard of Altero, nor studied his writings. He slotted the scroll back into its designated spot and then given that his guest did not apparently wish to discuss literature, returned to his seat and this time felt like he had won a small victory when the other sat too. He stared at Lukos when it seemed as if this were the first encounter with a chair that the other man had ever had, a bemused expression upon his face. Patience was a virtue that Achilleas had honed over many years now.
When eventually the ruffian seemed to have made himself quite comfortable, he saw fit to respond to the Achilleas’ question, though his initial answer hardly the Mikaelidas Lord the information he required.
“Dependable and discreet” Achilleas echoed, his eyes revealing just how doubtful he felt about those two claims even before the man had made his rather insulting proclamation. He shook his head, holding Lukos’ gaze steadily. “Prejudice suggests I have no experience upon which to base such an assumption, but we both know that isn’t true, Master Lukos”
Discreet was not a word he would have attributed to the man before him. There had been nothing subtle about the fellow nor his brute of a friend when they had first crossed paths at the temple of Aphrodite. And the only thing Achilleas would count in him dependable in was being obnoxious. Krysto must have been drunk. But for as much as the Lord nursed his injured pride over that incident, and indulged his distaste for the man in the quiet of his thoughts, he had long ago learned to separate personal feelings from duty and responsibility. Or at least he hid them well, and it was Achilleas’ duty to ensure they were prepared for the threat of the war.
So he did not flinch when Lukos leaned forwards but did look momentarily outraged at the notion that he would be looking for anything that went against the laws of the land.
“It is absolutely legal,” he said, with a hard look at the other man. “But I need it quickly. Arms, from Colchis, sooner the better. Can you do it?”
There was no point entertaining this fool any further if he could not, and if such were the case then Achilleas would really be annoyed at Krysto for having let the man get this far. But such would be unlike his friend, and so he waited, watched the other man’s face as he awaited his answer.
It was an ask. A voyage to Colchis could be two weeks anyway, and Achilleas wanted weapons sourcing and packing and back here before a month was much past. Perhaps he was reading too much into the murmur of threat from the South, but the lord was one who liked to be prepared, and he would do what he could to ensure he was not caught unawares and ill-equipped if murmurs were to turn into anything more substantial. He cleared his throat and spoke again.
“I expect quality, Master Lukos. And efficiency. If those are not things you can guarantee then there is no point wasting your time, and certainly not mine. So speak plainly and truthfully of what it is you can offer”
Lukos ignored the prince’s obvious disagreement about discretion. It was a moot point. He could no more prove his worth in this room than he could force the sun to move backward, nor was he inclined to perform just because he was ordered to do so. Instead, Lukos chose to fold his hands in his lap and wait for Achilleas to come to the correct decision, which he eventually did. After he was outraged, of course, and mentioned in clipped tones that what he wanted was completely legal. A smirk attached itself to Lukos’s mouth but he said nothing while Achilleas spoke.
“But I need it quickly. Arms, from Colchis, sooner the better. Can you do it?”
“I can, your highness,” he said at last, decided not to toy with Achilleas further. There was only so far he could push before the prince lost his temper. While that might be fun, it didn’t actually serve Lukos in any way to make him do it except for entertainment. Today was a day for business. Not for goading princes.
“I expect quality, Master Lukos. And efficiency. If those are not things you can guarantee then there is no point wasting your time, and certainly not mine. So speak plainly and truthfully of what it is you can offer.”
Lukos didn’t love the tone Achilleas was taking, but he ignored it. They’d finally gotten to the meat of this meeting. “Do you have a party waiting to supply those arms or am I to see to those too? If so, I’ll need a full list of what you’re wanting and the quantities needed. I will also need a signed and sealed letter from your highness, with your seal, that I am on your business. Port fees are to be paid by you, I can have my scribe bring those numbers to you. The whole thing, provided you have a waiting dealer should take a little less than a month. Two weeks to Colchis, two weeks return,” he counted on his fingers as he spoke, dark eyes drifting above Achilleas’s head as he thought. “Depending on if you have the blacksmiths slaving away before my arrival, two days in port, perhaps less. More if I’m waiting of the weapons to be made.”
Arching a brow at Achilleas, he made a fist with one and and gently knocked the knuckles of his fingers against the arm of the chair. “Am I to assume Taengea is preparing for war?” he half smirked. “What do you suddenly need such weapons for? And if you are gearing up for a fight, might I suggest enslaving your own blacksmiths in the meantime?” He grinned, fully expecting that Achilleas would not take the comments with any sort of grace.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Lukos ignored the prince’s obvious disagreement about discretion. It was a moot point. He could no more prove his worth in this room than he could force the sun to move backward, nor was he inclined to perform just because he was ordered to do so. Instead, Lukos chose to fold his hands in his lap and wait for Achilleas to come to the correct decision, which he eventually did. After he was outraged, of course, and mentioned in clipped tones that what he wanted was completely legal. A smirk attached itself to Lukos’s mouth but he said nothing while Achilleas spoke.
“But I need it quickly. Arms, from Colchis, sooner the better. Can you do it?”
“I can, your highness,” he said at last, decided not to toy with Achilleas further. There was only so far he could push before the prince lost his temper. While that might be fun, it didn’t actually serve Lukos in any way to make him do it except for entertainment. Today was a day for business. Not for goading princes.
“I expect quality, Master Lukos. And efficiency. If those are not things you can guarantee then there is no point wasting your time, and certainly not mine. So speak plainly and truthfully of what it is you can offer.”
Lukos didn’t love the tone Achilleas was taking, but he ignored it. They’d finally gotten to the meat of this meeting. “Do you have a party waiting to supply those arms or am I to see to those too? If so, I’ll need a full list of what you’re wanting and the quantities needed. I will also need a signed and sealed letter from your highness, with your seal, that I am on your business. Port fees are to be paid by you, I can have my scribe bring those numbers to you. The whole thing, provided you have a waiting dealer should take a little less than a month. Two weeks to Colchis, two weeks return,” he counted on his fingers as he spoke, dark eyes drifting above Achilleas’s head as he thought. “Depending on if you have the blacksmiths slaving away before my arrival, two days in port, perhaps less. More if I’m waiting of the weapons to be made.”
Arching a brow at Achilleas, he made a fist with one and and gently knocked the knuckles of his fingers against the arm of the chair. “Am I to assume Taengea is preparing for war?” he half smirked. “What do you suddenly need such weapons for? And if you are gearing up for a fight, might I suggest enslaving your own blacksmiths in the meantime?” He grinned, fully expecting that Achilleas would not take the comments with any sort of grace.
Lukos ignored the prince’s obvious disagreement about discretion. It was a moot point. He could no more prove his worth in this room than he could force the sun to move backward, nor was he inclined to perform just because he was ordered to do so. Instead, Lukos chose to fold his hands in his lap and wait for Achilleas to come to the correct decision, which he eventually did. After he was outraged, of course, and mentioned in clipped tones that what he wanted was completely legal. A smirk attached itself to Lukos’s mouth but he said nothing while Achilleas spoke.
“But I need it quickly. Arms, from Colchis, sooner the better. Can you do it?”
“I can, your highness,” he said at last, decided not to toy with Achilleas further. There was only so far he could push before the prince lost his temper. While that might be fun, it didn’t actually serve Lukos in any way to make him do it except for entertainment. Today was a day for business. Not for goading princes.
“I expect quality, Master Lukos. And efficiency. If those are not things you can guarantee then there is no point wasting your time, and certainly not mine. So speak plainly and truthfully of what it is you can offer.”
Lukos didn’t love the tone Achilleas was taking, but he ignored it. They’d finally gotten to the meat of this meeting. “Do you have a party waiting to supply those arms or am I to see to those too? If so, I’ll need a full list of what you’re wanting and the quantities needed. I will also need a signed and sealed letter from your highness, with your seal, that I am on your business. Port fees are to be paid by you, I can have my scribe bring those numbers to you. The whole thing, provided you have a waiting dealer should take a little less than a month. Two weeks to Colchis, two weeks return,” he counted on his fingers as he spoke, dark eyes drifting above Achilleas’s head as he thought. “Depending on if you have the blacksmiths slaving away before my arrival, two days in port, perhaps less. More if I’m waiting of the weapons to be made.”
Arching a brow at Achilleas, he made a fist with one and and gently knocked the knuckles of his fingers against the arm of the chair. “Am I to assume Taengea is preparing for war?” he half smirked. “What do you suddenly need such weapons for? And if you are gearing up for a fight, might I suggest enslaving your own blacksmiths in the meantime?” He grinned, fully expecting that Achilleas would not take the comments with any sort of grace.
Achilleas too, was glad to be moving into conversation that might actually get him somewhere. Lukos was not in posession of a personality that made the Crown Prince enjoy his company, and he had never been a fan of wasting time. And of course he did not think anything of the way he spoke to the other man. They were not friends, he was not nobility, he was a means to an end, and one that Achilleas still had reservations about putting his trust in.
But when Lukos enquired as to whether Achilleas already had a contact lined up to supply the goods he was after, the Prince’s lips pressed together in displeasure. He could boast no such thing, and *that* was why he had looked outside of his usual go tos for for shipping. This was more than that. With the slightest shake of his head, the prince reached for the list that he and Krysto had put together a couple of days before, and he slid it across the surface of the table toward Lukos, tapping it with his index finger.
“This is everything required. If you to speak to the man named on that parchment he should have some reserves at least.”
It was longer than he would hve liked but Achilleas knew that time and tide moved for no man. He waved a hand at mention of ports fees. “ Yes, yes, you can run through all that with my steward. Look at the list, come back with your price, and then we can talk details.”
He was ready to conclude this meeting, but of course, now it seemed the man had found his tongue, and his words and expression had the new Prince frown.
“Do not assume anything, and say even less. You are being paid for your discretion too, Master Lukos, should we agree on this endeavour.” Because of course nothing had been confirmed yet, it was just an unease that Achilleas had, and one that he had not seen his father making any preparations toward addressing. He did not need some big mouth hooligan sowing fear amongst the Taengean people, and his gaze narrowed a little on the other man. Could he really be trusted with this? He needed to think on it, and it was impossible to do that with Lukos sitting there and being infuriating. Achilleas sat up straight,
“And you were not invited here to offer your own opinion. So assuming you have all that you need to provide a cost for such an undertaking, then I think we are done here for now, yes? You can present yourself back here tomorrow and if your plans are satisfactory then we can draw up paperwork then. The servants will show you out”.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Achilleas too, was glad to be moving into conversation that might actually get him somewhere. Lukos was not in posession of a personality that made the Crown Prince enjoy his company, and he had never been a fan of wasting time. And of course he did not think anything of the way he spoke to the other man. They were not friends, he was not nobility, he was a means to an end, and one that Achilleas still had reservations about putting his trust in.
But when Lukos enquired as to whether Achilleas already had a contact lined up to supply the goods he was after, the Prince’s lips pressed together in displeasure. He could boast no such thing, and *that* was why he had looked outside of his usual go tos for for shipping. This was more than that. With the slightest shake of his head, the prince reached for the list that he and Krysto had put together a couple of days before, and he slid it across the surface of the table toward Lukos, tapping it with his index finger.
“This is everything required. If you to speak to the man named on that parchment he should have some reserves at least.”
It was longer than he would hve liked but Achilleas knew that time and tide moved for no man. He waved a hand at mention of ports fees. “ Yes, yes, you can run through all that with my steward. Look at the list, come back with your price, and then we can talk details.”
He was ready to conclude this meeting, but of course, now it seemed the man had found his tongue, and his words and expression had the new Prince frown.
“Do not assume anything, and say even less. You are being paid for your discretion too, Master Lukos, should we agree on this endeavour.” Because of course nothing had been confirmed yet, it was just an unease that Achilleas had, and one that he had not seen his father making any preparations toward addressing. He did not need some big mouth hooligan sowing fear amongst the Taengean people, and his gaze narrowed a little on the other man. Could he really be trusted with this? He needed to think on it, and it was impossible to do that with Lukos sitting there and being infuriating. Achilleas sat up straight,
“And you were not invited here to offer your own opinion. So assuming you have all that you need to provide a cost for such an undertaking, then I think we are done here for now, yes? You can present yourself back here tomorrow and if your plans are satisfactory then we can draw up paperwork then. The servants will show you out”.
Achilleas too, was glad to be moving into conversation that might actually get him somewhere. Lukos was not in posession of a personality that made the Crown Prince enjoy his company, and he had never been a fan of wasting time. And of course he did not think anything of the way he spoke to the other man. They were not friends, he was not nobility, he was a means to an end, and one that Achilleas still had reservations about putting his trust in.
But when Lukos enquired as to whether Achilleas already had a contact lined up to supply the goods he was after, the Prince’s lips pressed together in displeasure. He could boast no such thing, and *that* was why he had looked outside of his usual go tos for for shipping. This was more than that. With the slightest shake of his head, the prince reached for the list that he and Krysto had put together a couple of days before, and he slid it across the surface of the table toward Lukos, tapping it with his index finger.
“This is everything required. If you to speak to the man named on that parchment he should have some reserves at least.”
It was longer than he would hve liked but Achilleas knew that time and tide moved for no man. He waved a hand at mention of ports fees. “ Yes, yes, you can run through all that with my steward. Look at the list, come back with your price, and then we can talk details.”
He was ready to conclude this meeting, but of course, now it seemed the man had found his tongue, and his words and expression had the new Prince frown.
“Do not assume anything, and say even less. You are being paid for your discretion too, Master Lukos, should we agree on this endeavour.” Because of course nothing had been confirmed yet, it was just an unease that Achilleas had, and one that he had not seen his father making any preparations toward addressing. He did not need some big mouth hooligan sowing fear amongst the Taengean people, and his gaze narrowed a little on the other man. Could he really be trusted with this? He needed to think on it, and it was impossible to do that with Lukos sitting there and being infuriating. Achilleas sat up straight,
“And you were not invited here to offer your own opinion. So assuming you have all that you need to provide a cost for such an undertaking, then I think we are done here for now, yes? You can present yourself back here tomorrow and if your plans are satisfactory then we can draw up paperwork then. The servants will show you out”.
Lukos eyed the list Achilleas slid across the table but made no move to touch it. From here, he could see the lettering and columns flowing long on the page. Though it would take him forever to work out what this was saying, he finally reached forward and snatched the paper from the desk, scanning down the number of items, rather than what each actually was. His attention flicked to Achilleas and he held the paper to the side. “This is a lot,” he commented. But he said no more than that, as the prince appeared to be completely out of patience.
He kept his smirk to a minimum when Achilleas basically told him to shut up and not ask questions. That was fairly standard. Usually Lukos was so much better behaved than this to a client but then, he liked Achilleas too much. Or was too familiar with him, rather, to treat him with the respect that he might for a total stranger.
“Discretion you will have,” Lukos said through a sigh and stood when he was summarily dismissed. There was a fine line that Achilleas walked between being entertaining, and tiresome. His highhanded attitude had tipped steeply into wearisome and Lukos didn’t feel like dealing with it anymore. With his own patience now short, he gave Achilleas a bow, as he was supposed to do, and left the room, still glancing down at the paper in his hand, though not actively reading it. Mainly counting the number of items.
They would end up reaching an agreement. Lukos went straight from the meeting and back to his ship, where he shoved the list onto his scribe’s desk. Bianor wasn’t thrilled but he did his job and sent Lukos back with the correct numbers. Because Lukos was not fool enough to completely trust a scribe who hated him so much, he stopped on the way and paid a second scribe wholly unknown to him, to translate all that was written. The numbers matched and Lukos was satisfied as he handed over to Achilleas the adjustments and notes. This day, Lukos held none of the previous snark from before. He was calm and distant, bordering on polite. And so it was that he left with the contract in hand. Achilleas would have his weapons in as little time as Lukos could possibly manage, with the way things sat. Unfortunately, that meant he’d have to work in a fairly dedicated manner in order to secure the quantities, which meant he was more than a transporter. He was a buyer and a dealer, as well. All things he did from time to time and he was happy for it. He’d been wanting to return to Colchis anyway. There was someone he wanted to say hello to.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Lukos eyed the list Achilleas slid across the table but made no move to touch it. From here, he could see the lettering and columns flowing long on the page. Though it would take him forever to work out what this was saying, he finally reached forward and snatched the paper from the desk, scanning down the number of items, rather than what each actually was. His attention flicked to Achilleas and he held the paper to the side. “This is a lot,” he commented. But he said no more than that, as the prince appeared to be completely out of patience.
He kept his smirk to a minimum when Achilleas basically told him to shut up and not ask questions. That was fairly standard. Usually Lukos was so much better behaved than this to a client but then, he liked Achilleas too much. Or was too familiar with him, rather, to treat him with the respect that he might for a total stranger.
“Discretion you will have,” Lukos said through a sigh and stood when he was summarily dismissed. There was a fine line that Achilleas walked between being entertaining, and tiresome. His highhanded attitude had tipped steeply into wearisome and Lukos didn’t feel like dealing with it anymore. With his own patience now short, he gave Achilleas a bow, as he was supposed to do, and left the room, still glancing down at the paper in his hand, though not actively reading it. Mainly counting the number of items.
They would end up reaching an agreement. Lukos went straight from the meeting and back to his ship, where he shoved the list onto his scribe’s desk. Bianor wasn’t thrilled but he did his job and sent Lukos back with the correct numbers. Because Lukos was not fool enough to completely trust a scribe who hated him so much, he stopped on the way and paid a second scribe wholly unknown to him, to translate all that was written. The numbers matched and Lukos was satisfied as he handed over to Achilleas the adjustments and notes. This day, Lukos held none of the previous snark from before. He was calm and distant, bordering on polite. And so it was that he left with the contract in hand. Achilleas would have his weapons in as little time as Lukos could possibly manage, with the way things sat. Unfortunately, that meant he’d have to work in a fairly dedicated manner in order to secure the quantities, which meant he was more than a transporter. He was a buyer and a dealer, as well. All things he did from time to time and he was happy for it. He’d been wanting to return to Colchis anyway. There was someone he wanted to say hello to.
Lukos eyed the list Achilleas slid across the table but made no move to touch it. From here, he could see the lettering and columns flowing long on the page. Though it would take him forever to work out what this was saying, he finally reached forward and snatched the paper from the desk, scanning down the number of items, rather than what each actually was. His attention flicked to Achilleas and he held the paper to the side. “This is a lot,” he commented. But he said no more than that, as the prince appeared to be completely out of patience.
He kept his smirk to a minimum when Achilleas basically told him to shut up and not ask questions. That was fairly standard. Usually Lukos was so much better behaved than this to a client but then, he liked Achilleas too much. Or was too familiar with him, rather, to treat him with the respect that he might for a total stranger.
“Discretion you will have,” Lukos said through a sigh and stood when he was summarily dismissed. There was a fine line that Achilleas walked between being entertaining, and tiresome. His highhanded attitude had tipped steeply into wearisome and Lukos didn’t feel like dealing with it anymore. With his own patience now short, he gave Achilleas a bow, as he was supposed to do, and left the room, still glancing down at the paper in his hand, though not actively reading it. Mainly counting the number of items.
They would end up reaching an agreement. Lukos went straight from the meeting and back to his ship, where he shoved the list onto his scribe’s desk. Bianor wasn’t thrilled but he did his job and sent Lukos back with the correct numbers. Because Lukos was not fool enough to completely trust a scribe who hated him so much, he stopped on the way and paid a second scribe wholly unknown to him, to translate all that was written. The numbers matched and Lukos was satisfied as he handed over to Achilleas the adjustments and notes. This day, Lukos held none of the previous snark from before. He was calm and distant, bordering on polite. And so it was that he left with the contract in hand. Achilleas would have his weapons in as little time as Lukos could possibly manage, with the way things sat. Unfortunately, that meant he’d have to work in a fairly dedicated manner in order to secure the quantities, which meant he was more than a transporter. He was a buyer and a dealer, as well. All things he did from time to time and he was happy for it. He’d been wanting to return to Colchis anyway. There was someone he wanted to say hello to.