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Free time wasn't something that Elias of Stravos was privy to in his time as the regent stand-in for Emilia. However, when it did come, it was met with the burgeoning sense of pressure. Family tensions mounted, waxing and waxing as the head of Stravos house bided his time. Elias hardly showed his face to the public in the past few weeks, galavanting within the palati, re-purposing the vanished queen's home to his ends. Whenever the young man did leave the palace, it was in an effort of stealth, hiding his face with different himations, downplaying his noble lineage with meager chitons. He hid his face so as to preserve his privacy, but also to ensure that the illusion of incompetence and inaction resumed. Elias allowed his reach to steep into shadow, turning attempts at assassination and overt efforts of toppling the world into covert operations.
Senators were being followed, the talk of the citizens was being assessed. Elias' hand was to be kept secret until everything he worked for came to fruition and the Senate was made privy to exactly how the Stravos intended to rule. Even his family was left in various degrees of ignorance, a regrettable necessity. However, as Elias played his hand, the need for anonymity was driving him mad. The sun shone outside of the palace, bleeding into the halls, but he wouldn't see it. No, Elias had a purpose to his isolationism, and when he figured that the denizens of the palace were out and about, he made every effort to uncover whatever secrets were stored within. After all, others lived within the palati, others who might show their venom, enemies that hid within reach to undermine him.
Aimias, the would-be regent ruminated on. The traitor lived still, for he was untouchable in his verification of Elias' treachery. It was so very simple to deny such claims: the very fact that Elias, and not Persephone, dwelled within the palace was proof of the success in re-direction. Elias was not the victor in that battle, but he'd not let the sacrifices of his parents and his sisters be in vain. And so, Elias of Stravos tore into Aimias' study within the palace. The man who would be king rifled through documents, the incessant paranoia that the man might be in contact with his precious Persephone. While the queen's life was impossible to verify, one way or the other, perhaps those closest to her were more aware. While Elias had little reason to believe Emilia capable of keeping such secrets... Aimias was not above such suspicions.
An enemy to my rule, right beneath my nose!
How the Stravos regretted needing him alive. He seethed as he looked through paper after paper, finding nothing to bear fruit to his efforts. Folios were scattered across the man's desk, scanned several at a time before being abandoned to untested pastures. The heir to Stravos house spent the better part of an hour searching, fuming at the ineffectiveness of his labors.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
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Free time wasn't something that Elias of Stravos was privy to in his time as the regent stand-in for Emilia. However, when it did come, it was met with the burgeoning sense of pressure. Family tensions mounted, waxing and waxing as the head of Stravos house bided his time. Elias hardly showed his face to the public in the past few weeks, galavanting within the palati, re-purposing the vanished queen's home to his ends. Whenever the young man did leave the palace, it was in an effort of stealth, hiding his face with different himations, downplaying his noble lineage with meager chitons. He hid his face so as to preserve his privacy, but also to ensure that the illusion of incompetence and inaction resumed. Elias allowed his reach to steep into shadow, turning attempts at assassination and overt efforts of toppling the world into covert operations.
Senators were being followed, the talk of the citizens was being assessed. Elias' hand was to be kept secret until everything he worked for came to fruition and the Senate was made privy to exactly how the Stravos intended to rule. Even his family was left in various degrees of ignorance, a regrettable necessity. However, as Elias played his hand, the need for anonymity was driving him mad. The sun shone outside of the palace, bleeding into the halls, but he wouldn't see it. No, Elias had a purpose to his isolationism, and when he figured that the denizens of the palace were out and about, he made every effort to uncover whatever secrets were stored within. After all, others lived within the palati, others who might show their venom, enemies that hid within reach to undermine him.
Aimias, the would-be regent ruminated on. The traitor lived still, for he was untouchable in his verification of Elias' treachery. It was so very simple to deny such claims: the very fact that Elias, and not Persephone, dwelled within the palace was proof of the success in re-direction. Elias was not the victor in that battle, but he'd not let the sacrifices of his parents and his sisters be in vain. And so, Elias of Stravos tore into Aimias' study within the palace. The man who would be king rifled through documents, the incessant paranoia that the man might be in contact with his precious Persephone. While the queen's life was impossible to verify, one way or the other, perhaps those closest to her were more aware. While Elias had little reason to believe Emilia capable of keeping such secrets... Aimias was not above such suspicions.
An enemy to my rule, right beneath my nose!
How the Stravos regretted needing him alive. He seethed as he looked through paper after paper, finding nothing to bear fruit to his efforts. Folios were scattered across the man's desk, scanned several at a time before being abandoned to untested pastures. The heir to Stravos house spent the better part of an hour searching, fuming at the ineffectiveness of his labors.
Free time wasn't something that Elias of Stravos was privy to in his time as the regent stand-in for Emilia. However, when it did come, it was met with the burgeoning sense of pressure. Family tensions mounted, waxing and waxing as the head of Stravos house bided his time. Elias hardly showed his face to the public in the past few weeks, galavanting within the palati, re-purposing the vanished queen's home to his ends. Whenever the young man did leave the palace, it was in an effort of stealth, hiding his face with different himations, downplaying his noble lineage with meager chitons. He hid his face so as to preserve his privacy, but also to ensure that the illusion of incompetence and inaction resumed. Elias allowed his reach to steep into shadow, turning attempts at assassination and overt efforts of toppling the world into covert operations.
Senators were being followed, the talk of the citizens was being assessed. Elias' hand was to be kept secret until everything he worked for came to fruition and the Senate was made privy to exactly how the Stravos intended to rule. Even his family was left in various degrees of ignorance, a regrettable necessity. However, as Elias played his hand, the need for anonymity was driving him mad. The sun shone outside of the palace, bleeding into the halls, but he wouldn't see it. No, Elias had a purpose to his isolationism, and when he figured that the denizens of the palace were out and about, he made every effort to uncover whatever secrets were stored within. After all, others lived within the palati, others who might show their venom, enemies that hid within reach to undermine him.
Aimias, the would-be regent ruminated on. The traitor lived still, for he was untouchable in his verification of Elias' treachery. It was so very simple to deny such claims: the very fact that Elias, and not Persephone, dwelled within the palace was proof of the success in re-direction. Elias was not the victor in that battle, but he'd not let the sacrifices of his parents and his sisters be in vain. And so, Elias of Stravos tore into Aimias' study within the palace. The man who would be king rifled through documents, the incessant paranoia that the man might be in contact with his precious Persephone. While the queen's life was impossible to verify, one way or the other, perhaps those closest to her were more aware. While Elias had little reason to believe Emilia capable of keeping such secrets... Aimias was not above such suspicions.
An enemy to my rule, right beneath my nose!
How the Stravos regretted needing him alive. He seethed as he looked through paper after paper, finding nothing to bear fruit to his efforts. Folios were scattered across the man's desk, scanned several at a time before being abandoned to untested pastures. The heir to Stravos house spent the better part of an hour searching, fuming at the ineffectiveness of his labors.
Aimias was not a man of power. Even with his wedding to Iris, the title of Baron was in name only. He would never vote in the senate, nor would he have anything to do with the day to day running of the lands past what his wife wished of him. No, his responsibility was to the Xanthos family and had always been that way. What made his marriage perfect was that the lady Iris has no problem with this. He could do his duty and she could do his. It was the perfect solution to both of their problems.
His daughter was protected by her family name, and he provided her a stable marriage that allowed her to do as she wished.
Since the attack on the palati, Aimias had been working overtime. His efforts to keep the kingdom afloat seemed to be undermined at every turn. He was so limited at what he could impact that the best he could do was speak with those who had power in order to attempt to influence what they did. He kept his head low, avoiding anyone he didn’t trust in order to keep his actions underwraps. His political pull only went as far as those who trusted him.
He was respected, but even that wasn’t enough to open back up the senate.
He has just left a meeting with a few of the senators, all of whom wished to do whatever it took to get things back up and running. Money was being lost daily because all the infrastructure of the kingdom was in shambles. The disappearance of the Queen may have been for her safety, but the kingdom was going to pay for it in the end. And the stress of it all was wearing on him. He trusted Persephone, knew that she would want to do what was best for Athenia. But he had no way of telling her exactly what was going on. Hell, he didn’t even know if she was alive or not.
His mind was going in circles, so much that he almost didn’t notice that his office door was partially open. A man of routine, he always made sure to close it prior to leaving. It wasn’t until he was right on top of it that he realized that noise was coming from inside. He had hoped that maybe it was Iris, but his wife would have waiting outside for him before entering his office without him. After all, it was his space.
Pushing the door open, he was quick to realize that he had been stupid to think that his office was completely a safe space from the usuper. Instead, the man appeared to be in the middle of searching through his once organized papers to find something. ”This is a most pleasant surprise.” He said, his voice flat. ”Have you misplaced something, my lord? In my office?”
To be frank, he was surprised it had taken this long for his office to be raided.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
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Aimias was not a man of power. Even with his wedding to Iris, the title of Baron was in name only. He would never vote in the senate, nor would he have anything to do with the day to day running of the lands past what his wife wished of him. No, his responsibility was to the Xanthos family and had always been that way. What made his marriage perfect was that the lady Iris has no problem with this. He could do his duty and she could do his. It was the perfect solution to both of their problems.
His daughter was protected by her family name, and he provided her a stable marriage that allowed her to do as she wished.
Since the attack on the palati, Aimias had been working overtime. His efforts to keep the kingdom afloat seemed to be undermined at every turn. He was so limited at what he could impact that the best he could do was speak with those who had power in order to attempt to influence what they did. He kept his head low, avoiding anyone he didn’t trust in order to keep his actions underwraps. His political pull only went as far as those who trusted him.
He was respected, but even that wasn’t enough to open back up the senate.
He has just left a meeting with a few of the senators, all of whom wished to do whatever it took to get things back up and running. Money was being lost daily because all the infrastructure of the kingdom was in shambles. The disappearance of the Queen may have been for her safety, but the kingdom was going to pay for it in the end. And the stress of it all was wearing on him. He trusted Persephone, knew that she would want to do what was best for Athenia. But he had no way of telling her exactly what was going on. Hell, he didn’t even know if she was alive or not.
His mind was going in circles, so much that he almost didn’t notice that his office door was partially open. A man of routine, he always made sure to close it prior to leaving. It wasn’t until he was right on top of it that he realized that noise was coming from inside. He had hoped that maybe it was Iris, but his wife would have waiting outside for him before entering his office without him. After all, it was his space.
Pushing the door open, he was quick to realize that he had been stupid to think that his office was completely a safe space from the usuper. Instead, the man appeared to be in the middle of searching through his once organized papers to find something. ”This is a most pleasant surprise.” He said, his voice flat. ”Have you misplaced something, my lord? In my office?”
To be frank, he was surprised it had taken this long for his office to be raided.
Aimias was not a man of power. Even with his wedding to Iris, the title of Baron was in name only. He would never vote in the senate, nor would he have anything to do with the day to day running of the lands past what his wife wished of him. No, his responsibility was to the Xanthos family and had always been that way. What made his marriage perfect was that the lady Iris has no problem with this. He could do his duty and she could do his. It was the perfect solution to both of their problems.
His daughter was protected by her family name, and he provided her a stable marriage that allowed her to do as she wished.
Since the attack on the palati, Aimias had been working overtime. His efforts to keep the kingdom afloat seemed to be undermined at every turn. He was so limited at what he could impact that the best he could do was speak with those who had power in order to attempt to influence what they did. He kept his head low, avoiding anyone he didn’t trust in order to keep his actions underwraps. His political pull only went as far as those who trusted him.
He was respected, but even that wasn’t enough to open back up the senate.
He has just left a meeting with a few of the senators, all of whom wished to do whatever it took to get things back up and running. Money was being lost daily because all the infrastructure of the kingdom was in shambles. The disappearance of the Queen may have been for her safety, but the kingdom was going to pay for it in the end. And the stress of it all was wearing on him. He trusted Persephone, knew that she would want to do what was best for Athenia. But he had no way of telling her exactly what was going on. Hell, he didn’t even know if she was alive or not.
His mind was going in circles, so much that he almost didn’t notice that his office door was partially open. A man of routine, he always made sure to close it prior to leaving. It wasn’t until he was right on top of it that he realized that noise was coming from inside. He had hoped that maybe it was Iris, but his wife would have waiting outside for him before entering his office without him. After all, it was his space.
Pushing the door open, he was quick to realize that he had been stupid to think that his office was completely a safe space from the usuper. Instead, the man appeared to be in the middle of searching through his once organized papers to find something. ”This is a most pleasant surprise.” He said, his voice flat. ”Have you misplaced something, my lord? In my office?”
To be frank, he was surprised it had taken this long for his office to be raided.
While in the depths of Elias' heart, there was only hatred for Aimias... he found a begrudging respect for the man. It was difficult to pinpoint where murderous hatred ended and political intrigue began. While Aimias held no power, usurped in terms of influence by his woman, he carried himself in a way befitting of the nobility he possessed. Elias, with all of the gifts he possessed, all of the power he could wield when the proper opportunities presented themselves... had his reputation for a reason.
Elias found it difficult to hold in his emotions. When he lost grip of the situation, that anger took hold, it brought him to make increasingly stupid decisions until the world burned around him and lives were lost in the process. It'd happened multiple times already since the death of Minas, but he'd take a lesson from Aimias when he could. Rather than attempt to hide what he was doing, or excuse himself from the office, Elias allowed a chuckle to escape his lips. Aimias made his jab a bit too clear, and Elias found humour in the drab situation as a hand rose up to slide into his hair. The coffee-colored locks were pushed out of his face, surely his appearance a mess in his haggard efforts at sacking the office.
The chuckle continued before he turned around to face the "baron" properly.
"I'm sure it is. You'll have to forgive me, of course. The palace is quite large, and I've yet to familiarize myself with all of the secrets it holds."
Elias' eyes narrowed for the briefest of moments as he placed the proper emphasis, his honey-colored eyes never leaving Aimias' face. While the head of Stravos wove a tactful response, he was certain that Aimias could figure out more than he let on. It was that tone that bothered him so, the lie within his manner of speaking that irritated him more than the disingenuous context of his words. Irksome, to say the least. Problematic, if he read into it too much.
"While I'm here, however, perhaps something has been misplaced. I feel, Aimias, in light of your slander, that I've been merciful. I feel that such mercy requires acknowledgment. Wouldn't you agree?" Elias of Stravos did not beat around the bush. He sought to dismiss the ubiquitous reasons for his intrusion, and focus entirely on the scholar. One might call it a deflection, but in the end, the only person who had anything to prove in this room was Aimias of Argyris.
At least, in Elias' eyes. The Stravos studied the baron intently, his sharp gaze intent on holding Aimias, the contact ceasing only as the young man blinked. He crossed his arms just as he finished speaking, and he could almost feel the twitch in his lips as they sought to form into a smirk. He restrained himself, but only just.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
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While in the depths of Elias' heart, there was only hatred for Aimias... he found a begrudging respect for the man. It was difficult to pinpoint where murderous hatred ended and political intrigue began. While Aimias held no power, usurped in terms of influence by his woman, he carried himself in a way befitting of the nobility he possessed. Elias, with all of the gifts he possessed, all of the power he could wield when the proper opportunities presented themselves... had his reputation for a reason.
Elias found it difficult to hold in his emotions. When he lost grip of the situation, that anger took hold, it brought him to make increasingly stupid decisions until the world burned around him and lives were lost in the process. It'd happened multiple times already since the death of Minas, but he'd take a lesson from Aimias when he could. Rather than attempt to hide what he was doing, or excuse himself from the office, Elias allowed a chuckle to escape his lips. Aimias made his jab a bit too clear, and Elias found humour in the drab situation as a hand rose up to slide into his hair. The coffee-colored locks were pushed out of his face, surely his appearance a mess in his haggard efforts at sacking the office.
The chuckle continued before he turned around to face the "baron" properly.
"I'm sure it is. You'll have to forgive me, of course. The palace is quite large, and I've yet to familiarize myself with all of the secrets it holds."
Elias' eyes narrowed for the briefest of moments as he placed the proper emphasis, his honey-colored eyes never leaving Aimias' face. While the head of Stravos wove a tactful response, he was certain that Aimias could figure out more than he let on. It was that tone that bothered him so, the lie within his manner of speaking that irritated him more than the disingenuous context of his words. Irksome, to say the least. Problematic, if he read into it too much.
"While I'm here, however, perhaps something has been misplaced. I feel, Aimias, in light of your slander, that I've been merciful. I feel that such mercy requires acknowledgment. Wouldn't you agree?" Elias of Stravos did not beat around the bush. He sought to dismiss the ubiquitous reasons for his intrusion, and focus entirely on the scholar. One might call it a deflection, but in the end, the only person who had anything to prove in this room was Aimias of Argyris.
At least, in Elias' eyes. The Stravos studied the baron intently, his sharp gaze intent on holding Aimias, the contact ceasing only as the young man blinked. He crossed his arms just as he finished speaking, and he could almost feel the twitch in his lips as they sought to form into a smirk. He restrained himself, but only just.
While in the depths of Elias' heart, there was only hatred for Aimias... he found a begrudging respect for the man. It was difficult to pinpoint where murderous hatred ended and political intrigue began. While Aimias held no power, usurped in terms of influence by his woman, he carried himself in a way befitting of the nobility he possessed. Elias, with all of the gifts he possessed, all of the power he could wield when the proper opportunities presented themselves... had his reputation for a reason.
Elias found it difficult to hold in his emotions. When he lost grip of the situation, that anger took hold, it brought him to make increasingly stupid decisions until the world burned around him and lives were lost in the process. It'd happened multiple times already since the death of Minas, but he'd take a lesson from Aimias when he could. Rather than attempt to hide what he was doing, or excuse himself from the office, Elias allowed a chuckle to escape his lips. Aimias made his jab a bit too clear, and Elias found humour in the drab situation as a hand rose up to slide into his hair. The coffee-colored locks were pushed out of his face, surely his appearance a mess in his haggard efforts at sacking the office.
The chuckle continued before he turned around to face the "baron" properly.
"I'm sure it is. You'll have to forgive me, of course. The palace is quite large, and I've yet to familiarize myself with all of the secrets it holds."
Elias' eyes narrowed for the briefest of moments as he placed the proper emphasis, his honey-colored eyes never leaving Aimias' face. While the head of Stravos wove a tactful response, he was certain that Aimias could figure out more than he let on. It was that tone that bothered him so, the lie within his manner of speaking that irritated him more than the disingenuous context of his words. Irksome, to say the least. Problematic, if he read into it too much.
"While I'm here, however, perhaps something has been misplaced. I feel, Aimias, in light of your slander, that I've been merciful. I feel that such mercy requires acknowledgment. Wouldn't you agree?" Elias of Stravos did not beat around the bush. He sought to dismiss the ubiquitous reasons for his intrusion, and focus entirely on the scholar. One might call it a deflection, but in the end, the only person who had anything to prove in this room was Aimias of Argyris.
At least, in Elias' eyes. The Stravos studied the baron intently, his sharp gaze intent on holding Aimias, the contact ceasing only as the young man blinked. He crossed his arms just as he finished speaking, and he could almost feel the twitch in his lips as they sought to form into a smirk. He restrained himself, but only just.
Aimias was well aware of how much he was despised by the man in his office now. After all, he would be King if Aimias hadn’t brought the charges up against him. Even though he had little to gain from a Xanthos on the throne besides job security, his play in the game was hard to miss. He’d brought for the testimony, he’d presented the facts— Aimias was directly responsible for the current political climate.
Granted, he had been the one who stormed the palati, but he had forced Elias to orchestrate that, too. And while he couldn’t directly prove the man in front of him did it, there was little to dispute it either. If only he wasn’t lacking the facts to prove it.
But that was semantics at this point. Elias was here and Persephone was not. And now he had to work overtime to make sure that the coward didn’t completely destroy the kingdom he’d been so set on protecting. Aimias may have felt allegiance to the Xanthos family for their part in his education, but his focus had and always will have been the kingdom. Half the reason that Aimias had backed a change in the laws was due to his utter lack of faith in the man standing before him. And with the way things had been handled since the disappearance of the Queen, he was only proving his point more and more.
”Understandable. There are still rooms within the walls that I hadn’t a clue existed. Like your own office, for example.” He was well aware of the fact that he was treading on thin ice with statements like that. But it was fairly common practice to respect any man’s space, regardless of where it lies. The fact that Elias had decided to snoop through his papers just made him hate the man even more. What happened to decency? ”In time, you will become familiar with the layout, I’m sure.”
He was suddenly very glad he’d sent the letters to the Queen via messenger, the contents plain and boring, save for the hidden message revealed only by the heat of fire.
”I tend not to deal in slanderous statements. I let the facts do that for me.” He said simply, wondering just what was his point for cornering him in office in the first place. ”But, yes, I do suppose some thanks is owed for your mercy. I have never known facts to need mercy, but here we are.” He moved deeper into his office, getting to work on righting the mess he had made.
”If you were looking for something specific, Lord Elias, perhaps I can assist? After all, this is my office. I know its contents quite well.”
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Aimias was well aware of how much he was despised by the man in his office now. After all, he would be King if Aimias hadn’t brought the charges up against him. Even though he had little to gain from a Xanthos on the throne besides job security, his play in the game was hard to miss. He’d brought for the testimony, he’d presented the facts— Aimias was directly responsible for the current political climate.
Granted, he had been the one who stormed the palati, but he had forced Elias to orchestrate that, too. And while he couldn’t directly prove the man in front of him did it, there was little to dispute it either. If only he wasn’t lacking the facts to prove it.
But that was semantics at this point. Elias was here and Persephone was not. And now he had to work overtime to make sure that the coward didn’t completely destroy the kingdom he’d been so set on protecting. Aimias may have felt allegiance to the Xanthos family for their part in his education, but his focus had and always will have been the kingdom. Half the reason that Aimias had backed a change in the laws was due to his utter lack of faith in the man standing before him. And with the way things had been handled since the disappearance of the Queen, he was only proving his point more and more.
”Understandable. There are still rooms within the walls that I hadn’t a clue existed. Like your own office, for example.” He was well aware of the fact that he was treading on thin ice with statements like that. But it was fairly common practice to respect any man’s space, regardless of where it lies. The fact that Elias had decided to snoop through his papers just made him hate the man even more. What happened to decency? ”In time, you will become familiar with the layout, I’m sure.”
He was suddenly very glad he’d sent the letters to the Queen via messenger, the contents plain and boring, save for the hidden message revealed only by the heat of fire.
”I tend not to deal in slanderous statements. I let the facts do that for me.” He said simply, wondering just what was his point for cornering him in office in the first place. ”But, yes, I do suppose some thanks is owed for your mercy. I have never known facts to need mercy, but here we are.” He moved deeper into his office, getting to work on righting the mess he had made.
”If you were looking for something specific, Lord Elias, perhaps I can assist? After all, this is my office. I know its contents quite well.”
Aimias was well aware of how much he was despised by the man in his office now. After all, he would be King if Aimias hadn’t brought the charges up against him. Even though he had little to gain from a Xanthos on the throne besides job security, his play in the game was hard to miss. He’d brought for the testimony, he’d presented the facts— Aimias was directly responsible for the current political climate.
Granted, he had been the one who stormed the palati, but he had forced Elias to orchestrate that, too. And while he couldn’t directly prove the man in front of him did it, there was little to dispute it either. If only he wasn’t lacking the facts to prove it.
But that was semantics at this point. Elias was here and Persephone was not. And now he had to work overtime to make sure that the coward didn’t completely destroy the kingdom he’d been so set on protecting. Aimias may have felt allegiance to the Xanthos family for their part in his education, but his focus had and always will have been the kingdom. Half the reason that Aimias had backed a change in the laws was due to his utter lack of faith in the man standing before him. And with the way things had been handled since the disappearance of the Queen, he was only proving his point more and more.
”Understandable. There are still rooms within the walls that I hadn’t a clue existed. Like your own office, for example.” He was well aware of the fact that he was treading on thin ice with statements like that. But it was fairly common practice to respect any man’s space, regardless of where it lies. The fact that Elias had decided to snoop through his papers just made him hate the man even more. What happened to decency? ”In time, you will become familiar with the layout, I’m sure.”
He was suddenly very glad he’d sent the letters to the Queen via messenger, the contents plain and boring, save for the hidden message revealed only by the heat of fire.
”I tend not to deal in slanderous statements. I let the facts do that for me.” He said simply, wondering just what was his point for cornering him in office in the first place. ”But, yes, I do suppose some thanks is owed for your mercy. I have never known facts to need mercy, but here we are.” He moved deeper into his office, getting to work on righting the mess he had made.
”If you were looking for something specific, Lord Elias, perhaps I can assist? After all, this is my office. I know its contents quite well.”
Elias was not always one to suckle at the teat of power. However, once the usurper had but a taste of it, he found he was changed forever. Stations and titles, of course, were facsimiles. As of late, it'd become more and more apparent that such accolades were irrelevant without a number of variables that entered play, as well. For some, titles were enough to command respect and loyalty. For those, often enough the thoughtless rabble who'd honed their skills sufficiently to make competent legs to enact orders, that was enough. Elias found his leadership rarely in question when he provided the livelihood of the man walking his orders into reality.
No, it was the man who abandoned the use of his legs; it was the orator, the senator, and the foolhardy tradesman who believed themselves above the loyalty that a title should bring. More than many, Aimias of Argyris that fit the category so perfectly. Elias' honey-hued eyes could cover up the disdain. The actor within the usurper could hold back the hatred, but in his chest the flare of nausea arose at the very sight of him.
Aimias is a wretch, worshipping the ground tread by a shadow. Persephone is gone, her - my - kingdom in tatters and the man responsible stands before me, a reminder of the destruction of solidarity.
Aimias had enough reasons to be hated. But, there were more. Elias narrowed his gaze as he listened to the thinly-veiled mockery. My office?! This entire place is my office, wrested from the hands of nepotism itself, he mused in silence, listening to every word the wretch spoke. Aimias dealt not in slander, but his facts were a matter of perspective.
"If your slander was proven true, then I wouldn't be in this palace at all, Aimias. You're the least of the relics left behind by the Xanthos embarrassment. Think of your position as a courtesy, wretch, and listen... very carefully."
Elias heard not the sound of guards in the distance. The Stravos spun around to push the door to the office closed. Then, he turned to face Aimias. Fingers sought to pull at the fabric of the wretch's chiton, intent on bringing him closer to the head of Stravos as he breathed into the man's ear,
"My mercy is finite. Your loyalty is not to Xanthos, wretch. It is to Athenia. And to me. You're best to remember whose good graces keeps the air in your throat. Or, rather, in other, more important throats. Think of the loves in your life, Aimias. Imagine how it might feel for those ties to be broken. I'll give you a moment," he emphasized. Elias released Aimias' chiton, exercising force with the intent of pushing the older man towards the closed door.
"Think of their happiness. Think of the heiress holed up with me in this place. See how your loyalties have made her prison smaller and smaller. Think of your -- woman,"" he continued, hesitant to say the word 'wife' when referring to Iris. Whatever was left of Elias' heart repelled the adornment, and the need to deflect the word only further imbibed Elias of Stravos with rage.
"Think of Iris and how she lowered herself to love something like you. And yet, you take her life for granted, spitting in the face of my mercy. And lastly, think of yourself, and the noose that draws closer to your throat, the leash that winds further and further to wring your neck. Consider words and loyalties wisely and tell me... what correspondence have you had? If Persephone yet lives, and you know of it, then you commit treason by keeping it from Athenia. And from me. I came to this place for answers, and all that's been found is you." he completed, intent on giving the wretch a moment to process what had been said.
"Don't make me consider this time wasted," he warned before he let off a chuckle. The regent raised fingers into his own hair, a breath filling his lungs before he threw himself into the chair at Aimias' desk. Taking no consideration for Aimias' attempts at cleaning, Elias raised up his feet, leaning back in the chair as those honey-hued eyes kept the wretch in his vision. Every movement was followed as he waited in anticipation for the words he needed to hear from him.
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Elias was not always one to suckle at the teat of power. However, once the usurper had but a taste of it, he found he was changed forever. Stations and titles, of course, were facsimiles. As of late, it'd become more and more apparent that such accolades were irrelevant without a number of variables that entered play, as well. For some, titles were enough to command respect and loyalty. For those, often enough the thoughtless rabble who'd honed their skills sufficiently to make competent legs to enact orders, that was enough. Elias found his leadership rarely in question when he provided the livelihood of the man walking his orders into reality.
No, it was the man who abandoned the use of his legs; it was the orator, the senator, and the foolhardy tradesman who believed themselves above the loyalty that a title should bring. More than many, Aimias of Argyris that fit the category so perfectly. Elias' honey-hued eyes could cover up the disdain. The actor within the usurper could hold back the hatred, but in his chest the flare of nausea arose at the very sight of him.
Aimias is a wretch, worshipping the ground tread by a shadow. Persephone is gone, her - my - kingdom in tatters and the man responsible stands before me, a reminder of the destruction of solidarity.
Aimias had enough reasons to be hated. But, there were more. Elias narrowed his gaze as he listened to the thinly-veiled mockery. My office?! This entire place is my office, wrested from the hands of nepotism itself, he mused in silence, listening to every word the wretch spoke. Aimias dealt not in slander, but his facts were a matter of perspective.
"If your slander was proven true, then I wouldn't be in this palace at all, Aimias. You're the least of the relics left behind by the Xanthos embarrassment. Think of your position as a courtesy, wretch, and listen... very carefully."
Elias heard not the sound of guards in the distance. The Stravos spun around to push the door to the office closed. Then, he turned to face Aimias. Fingers sought to pull at the fabric of the wretch's chiton, intent on bringing him closer to the head of Stravos as he breathed into the man's ear,
"My mercy is finite. Your loyalty is not to Xanthos, wretch. It is to Athenia. And to me. You're best to remember whose good graces keeps the air in your throat. Or, rather, in other, more important throats. Think of the loves in your life, Aimias. Imagine how it might feel for those ties to be broken. I'll give you a moment," he emphasized. Elias released Aimias' chiton, exercising force with the intent of pushing the older man towards the closed door.
"Think of their happiness. Think of the heiress holed up with me in this place. See how your loyalties have made her prison smaller and smaller. Think of your -- woman,"" he continued, hesitant to say the word 'wife' when referring to Iris. Whatever was left of Elias' heart repelled the adornment, and the need to deflect the word only further imbibed Elias of Stravos with rage.
"Think of Iris and how she lowered herself to love something like you. And yet, you take her life for granted, spitting in the face of my mercy. And lastly, think of yourself, and the noose that draws closer to your throat, the leash that winds further and further to wring your neck. Consider words and loyalties wisely and tell me... what correspondence have you had? If Persephone yet lives, and you know of it, then you commit treason by keeping it from Athenia. And from me. I came to this place for answers, and all that's been found is you." he completed, intent on giving the wretch a moment to process what had been said.
"Don't make me consider this time wasted," he warned before he let off a chuckle. The regent raised fingers into his own hair, a breath filling his lungs before he threw himself into the chair at Aimias' desk. Taking no consideration for Aimias' attempts at cleaning, Elias raised up his feet, leaning back in the chair as those honey-hued eyes kept the wretch in his vision. Every movement was followed as he waited in anticipation for the words he needed to hear from him.
Elias was not always one to suckle at the teat of power. However, once the usurper had but a taste of it, he found he was changed forever. Stations and titles, of course, were facsimiles. As of late, it'd become more and more apparent that such accolades were irrelevant without a number of variables that entered play, as well. For some, titles were enough to command respect and loyalty. For those, often enough the thoughtless rabble who'd honed their skills sufficiently to make competent legs to enact orders, that was enough. Elias found his leadership rarely in question when he provided the livelihood of the man walking his orders into reality.
No, it was the man who abandoned the use of his legs; it was the orator, the senator, and the foolhardy tradesman who believed themselves above the loyalty that a title should bring. More than many, Aimias of Argyris that fit the category so perfectly. Elias' honey-hued eyes could cover up the disdain. The actor within the usurper could hold back the hatred, but in his chest the flare of nausea arose at the very sight of him.
Aimias is a wretch, worshipping the ground tread by a shadow. Persephone is gone, her - my - kingdom in tatters and the man responsible stands before me, a reminder of the destruction of solidarity.
Aimias had enough reasons to be hated. But, there were more. Elias narrowed his gaze as he listened to the thinly-veiled mockery. My office?! This entire place is my office, wrested from the hands of nepotism itself, he mused in silence, listening to every word the wretch spoke. Aimias dealt not in slander, but his facts were a matter of perspective.
"If your slander was proven true, then I wouldn't be in this palace at all, Aimias. You're the least of the relics left behind by the Xanthos embarrassment. Think of your position as a courtesy, wretch, and listen... very carefully."
Elias heard not the sound of guards in the distance. The Stravos spun around to push the door to the office closed. Then, he turned to face Aimias. Fingers sought to pull at the fabric of the wretch's chiton, intent on bringing him closer to the head of Stravos as he breathed into the man's ear,
"My mercy is finite. Your loyalty is not to Xanthos, wretch. It is to Athenia. And to me. You're best to remember whose good graces keeps the air in your throat. Or, rather, in other, more important throats. Think of the loves in your life, Aimias. Imagine how it might feel for those ties to be broken. I'll give you a moment," he emphasized. Elias released Aimias' chiton, exercising force with the intent of pushing the older man towards the closed door.
"Think of their happiness. Think of the heiress holed up with me in this place. See how your loyalties have made her prison smaller and smaller. Think of your -- woman,"" he continued, hesitant to say the word 'wife' when referring to Iris. Whatever was left of Elias' heart repelled the adornment, and the need to deflect the word only further imbibed Elias of Stravos with rage.
"Think of Iris and how she lowered herself to love something like you. And yet, you take her life for granted, spitting in the face of my mercy. And lastly, think of yourself, and the noose that draws closer to your throat, the leash that winds further and further to wring your neck. Consider words and loyalties wisely and tell me... what correspondence have you had? If Persephone yet lives, and you know of it, then you commit treason by keeping it from Athenia. And from me. I came to this place for answers, and all that's been found is you." he completed, intent on giving the wretch a moment to process what had been said.
"Don't make me consider this time wasted," he warned before he let off a chuckle. The regent raised fingers into his own hair, a breath filling his lungs before he threw himself into the chair at Aimias' desk. Taking no consideration for Aimias' attempts at cleaning, Elias raised up his feet, leaning back in the chair as those honey-hued eyes kept the wretch in his vision. Every movement was followed as he waited in anticipation for the words he needed to hear from him.
Aimias could barely stand men like Elias, who wore their power on their sleeve. He was well aware of what little the man could do, that his ‘power’ was something that came with circumstance alone. And here he was, practically the king as Emilia’s ward and running the kingdom into the ground. He had a chance to make a difference, to show Athenia that he was not the wrong choice to rule and yet he was letting the whole kingdom burn with his incompetence.
He was not fit for the title he had. And Elias had little common sense to even realize that his pretty face hide nothing. The boy would run the kingdom to ruin before he would listen to anyone around him. And while Aimias had ‘power’, he was aware of its limitations. His own power existing in the respect he had earned in his years of service. The men of the court trusted him, and they trusted his judgement. He was known for a level head with most of his loyalty falling to the kingdom itself rather than the family who wore the crown. ”Yes, it’s size is always astounding to those who do not belong. Of course, I am used to it. After all, it was my home for many years.”
It felt good to say what he was saying. The insults were veiled in courtly kindness, but he was not a stupid man-- Elias would see right through them and know exactly what Aimias thought of him.
Good.
He could see the anger in his face, not at all surprised with how quickly he seemed to shift from fake cordial behavior to his true self. The door was pushed shut, and for reasons he wouldn’t understand later, he was yanked close to have his words whispered into Aimias’s ear, as if they may be overheard. He wanted to remind the boy that his loyalty was never the one really in question. Everyone worth their power knew exactly who Aimias felt responsible to. His personal feelings had always been for the crown, which blurred into the Xanthos family.
But he had always thought that if their decisions ever risked the kingdom, he would stand against them if need be. Hadn’t that been why he had presented the evidence in the first place? To ensure that the interest of Athenia were first and foremost on the minds of everyone?
Shoved against the door, Aimias was grateful for the distance as he continued to make his own stance on those within the walls of the palati known. So this was his plan, it seemed. Blackmail him into obedience to protect those he loved. Starting with Emilia, the girl who was his little sister, was just the beginning. He was right, and Aimias had seen it with his own eyes. Her freedom lessened, and he never once considered that it might have been because of him. He had not been able to stay away from her, trying to council her as best as he was able. But with a regent in the way, there was little the puppet queen could do until her sister returned.
Aimias should not have been concerned about the threats about Iris. If he had been a soldier, or had been a noble, he would have been forced to take up a sword to protect those he loved. But he was a self proclaimed student of knowledge, leaving the fighting to those who felt the call. She deserved one of those men, one who could stand in front of a man like Elias and hold his ground. She deserved a Baron and was stuck with him. The doubt in his own marriage unraveled in his core, but he buried it down. Unable to hide his emotions, he was grateful that the man seemed to leave his daughter out of all of this.
He swallowed down the fear and doubt and stepped away from the door, starting to clean up his office by picking up the parchment all over the floor. ”If it is treasonous to be in communication with the Queen, then it should please you to know that I have not been in touch with Persephone. You could tear apart this office, and perhaps the one in the manor cross town and would end up finding nothing.” He was glad it was not a lie. After all, his letters had disappeared with no confirmation they’d reached anyone. ”If that is your only concern, my lord, that should clear it up for you.” Aimias was quiet, wondering what more he would demand of him.
It seemed that he was at his mercy, and that killed him.
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Aimias could barely stand men like Elias, who wore their power on their sleeve. He was well aware of what little the man could do, that his ‘power’ was something that came with circumstance alone. And here he was, practically the king as Emilia’s ward and running the kingdom into the ground. He had a chance to make a difference, to show Athenia that he was not the wrong choice to rule and yet he was letting the whole kingdom burn with his incompetence.
He was not fit for the title he had. And Elias had little common sense to even realize that his pretty face hide nothing. The boy would run the kingdom to ruin before he would listen to anyone around him. And while Aimias had ‘power’, he was aware of its limitations. His own power existing in the respect he had earned in his years of service. The men of the court trusted him, and they trusted his judgement. He was known for a level head with most of his loyalty falling to the kingdom itself rather than the family who wore the crown. ”Yes, it’s size is always astounding to those who do not belong. Of course, I am used to it. After all, it was my home for many years.”
It felt good to say what he was saying. The insults were veiled in courtly kindness, but he was not a stupid man-- Elias would see right through them and know exactly what Aimias thought of him.
Good.
He could see the anger in his face, not at all surprised with how quickly he seemed to shift from fake cordial behavior to his true self. The door was pushed shut, and for reasons he wouldn’t understand later, he was yanked close to have his words whispered into Aimias’s ear, as if they may be overheard. He wanted to remind the boy that his loyalty was never the one really in question. Everyone worth their power knew exactly who Aimias felt responsible to. His personal feelings had always been for the crown, which blurred into the Xanthos family.
But he had always thought that if their decisions ever risked the kingdom, he would stand against them if need be. Hadn’t that been why he had presented the evidence in the first place? To ensure that the interest of Athenia were first and foremost on the minds of everyone?
Shoved against the door, Aimias was grateful for the distance as he continued to make his own stance on those within the walls of the palati known. So this was his plan, it seemed. Blackmail him into obedience to protect those he loved. Starting with Emilia, the girl who was his little sister, was just the beginning. He was right, and Aimias had seen it with his own eyes. Her freedom lessened, and he never once considered that it might have been because of him. He had not been able to stay away from her, trying to council her as best as he was able. But with a regent in the way, there was little the puppet queen could do until her sister returned.
Aimias should not have been concerned about the threats about Iris. If he had been a soldier, or had been a noble, he would have been forced to take up a sword to protect those he loved. But he was a self proclaimed student of knowledge, leaving the fighting to those who felt the call. She deserved one of those men, one who could stand in front of a man like Elias and hold his ground. She deserved a Baron and was stuck with him. The doubt in his own marriage unraveled in his core, but he buried it down. Unable to hide his emotions, he was grateful that the man seemed to leave his daughter out of all of this.
He swallowed down the fear and doubt and stepped away from the door, starting to clean up his office by picking up the parchment all over the floor. ”If it is treasonous to be in communication with the Queen, then it should please you to know that I have not been in touch with Persephone. You could tear apart this office, and perhaps the one in the manor cross town and would end up finding nothing.” He was glad it was not a lie. After all, his letters had disappeared with no confirmation they’d reached anyone. ”If that is your only concern, my lord, that should clear it up for you.” Aimias was quiet, wondering what more he would demand of him.
It seemed that he was at his mercy, and that killed him.
Aimias could barely stand men like Elias, who wore their power on their sleeve. He was well aware of what little the man could do, that his ‘power’ was something that came with circumstance alone. And here he was, practically the king as Emilia’s ward and running the kingdom into the ground. He had a chance to make a difference, to show Athenia that he was not the wrong choice to rule and yet he was letting the whole kingdom burn with his incompetence.
He was not fit for the title he had. And Elias had little common sense to even realize that his pretty face hide nothing. The boy would run the kingdom to ruin before he would listen to anyone around him. And while Aimias had ‘power’, he was aware of its limitations. His own power existing in the respect he had earned in his years of service. The men of the court trusted him, and they trusted his judgement. He was known for a level head with most of his loyalty falling to the kingdom itself rather than the family who wore the crown. ”Yes, it’s size is always astounding to those who do not belong. Of course, I am used to it. After all, it was my home for many years.”
It felt good to say what he was saying. The insults were veiled in courtly kindness, but he was not a stupid man-- Elias would see right through them and know exactly what Aimias thought of him.
Good.
He could see the anger in his face, not at all surprised with how quickly he seemed to shift from fake cordial behavior to his true self. The door was pushed shut, and for reasons he wouldn’t understand later, he was yanked close to have his words whispered into Aimias’s ear, as if they may be overheard. He wanted to remind the boy that his loyalty was never the one really in question. Everyone worth their power knew exactly who Aimias felt responsible to. His personal feelings had always been for the crown, which blurred into the Xanthos family.
But he had always thought that if their decisions ever risked the kingdom, he would stand against them if need be. Hadn’t that been why he had presented the evidence in the first place? To ensure that the interest of Athenia were first and foremost on the minds of everyone?
Shoved against the door, Aimias was grateful for the distance as he continued to make his own stance on those within the walls of the palati known. So this was his plan, it seemed. Blackmail him into obedience to protect those he loved. Starting with Emilia, the girl who was his little sister, was just the beginning. He was right, and Aimias had seen it with his own eyes. Her freedom lessened, and he never once considered that it might have been because of him. He had not been able to stay away from her, trying to council her as best as he was able. But with a regent in the way, there was little the puppet queen could do until her sister returned.
Aimias should not have been concerned about the threats about Iris. If he had been a soldier, or had been a noble, he would have been forced to take up a sword to protect those he loved. But he was a self proclaimed student of knowledge, leaving the fighting to those who felt the call. She deserved one of those men, one who could stand in front of a man like Elias and hold his ground. She deserved a Baron and was stuck with him. The doubt in his own marriage unraveled in his core, but he buried it down. Unable to hide his emotions, he was grateful that the man seemed to leave his daughter out of all of this.
He swallowed down the fear and doubt and stepped away from the door, starting to clean up his office by picking up the parchment all over the floor. ”If it is treasonous to be in communication with the Queen, then it should please you to know that I have not been in touch with Persephone. You could tear apart this office, and perhaps the one in the manor cross town and would end up finding nothing.” He was glad it was not a lie. After all, his letters had disappeared with no confirmation they’d reached anyone. ”If that is your only concern, my lord, that should clear it up for you.” Aimias was quiet, wondering what more he would demand of him.
It seemed that he was at his mercy, and that killed him.
Power was Elias' birthright. Someone like Aimias of Argyris could never understand, picked up from nothing by the lowest of nobility and given name through marriage. While there was a great many things that one's ambition could grant, there was something to nobility that had its own mystique. Or, at least, Elias always believed. Every movement Elias made was watched by appraising or scrutinizing eyes, taking his measure as he walked the earth with his Gods-given right to rule it. However, even the nobility wasn't immune to the righteous lightning of Zeus. The hammer of justice that swung into the heavens, only to bring its might down on the Stravos family.
Elias had learned it the hard way, and Aimias of Argyris had been his unwitting tutor. This dose of reality had laid Elias low, wounded his very notion of nobility and bringing to him the wretched understanding of consequence. The very idea of suffering was new to the Stravos heir then, a life of prosperity and taking one's station for granted brought to a crushing halt. Rather than repent for his crimes, there was denial. Refuting evidence and claiming it erroneous, dismissing the testimonies of that wretch Lukos as the words of a conspirator. It was a terrible thing, the lack of hindsight Elias had employed in his efforts, but he'd learned his lesson well.
Never grow a conscience, for it will poison you. Never admit your crimes, for they will destroy you. Never forgive your enemies, for they will usurp you.
Elias of Stravos would never forgive Aimias. Forever the spiteful heir would hold rage in his heart. However, as Aimias spoke again, laughter escaped the usurper's lips. The truth was, after all, such a hilarious thing. Aimias spoke the facts plainly, with no guile to his voice or artistic understanding of what it required to perceive the machinations of rule. The laughter bubbled up freely up until the Stravos released Aimias from his hold. He raised a hand, his palm lightly slapping the other man's cheek twice before he let a number of 'tsks' escape his lips.
"You hear what you want to hear, Aimias! Never once did I say that being in communication with our illustrious queen was treason. What I said," As Elias spoke, his tone turned from jovial at the end of his laughter, to a growing menace within his words. Truly, Elias loved to hear himself speak. The change in metre, the cadence as he sought to charm, then the resiliency that wound within him as he issued his carefully devised threats. Perhaps, in his efforts to intimidate Aimias, he'd mispoken? Or, the wretch lord of nothing had simply misheard. He blamed the filth's age and his station for such an oversight as he elaborated.
"Is that by keeping that knowledge from the crown and the people of Athenia, you commit treason. Imagine, Aimias, if you were in communication with her. Imagine, for a moment, how the people's tunes might change if their still-living queen knew their plight, and ignored it. And then imagine how a heartbroken sister might feel, being abandoned by the only immediate family she has left," he emphasized. Elias let his hands smooth along Aimias' chiton, as a false apology for his manhandling of the scholar just moments before.
"Wouldn't that be something for them to hear? But, more importantly, I'm not done with you yet, Aimias. You've come to learn my reason for intruding. I'd apologize, but certainly, as a scholar I'd hope you'd empathize with my urgency. But, while I have you here, there's something I want from you."
Even Aimias had to understand the nature of Elias' mercy. It was not given, nor granted, for any reason but his whim. Fairness, empathy, sympathy... these were lost insofar as their expression failed to benefit him. No, Elias of Stravos extended mercy to Aimias for reasons of diplomacy.
"Continue making snide passes and we'll see just how long you keep your tongue, friend. What I need from you, and please do remember this clearly, is for you to assist in the repair of my reputation. It's only fitting for the bastard who burned it to ashes, after all, to refute every bit of testimony as erroneous. Publically admit your utter failure as an arbiter of justice. Once you do, my friend, you won't need to watch your wife so carefully. Nor your daughter, hm?"
This, Elias found in poor taste. To involve children in the waging of political warfare the Stravos drew the line. But, Gods be damned to any line to be toed or crossed. In desperation, all was forgotten, and if Elias of Stravos need ruin a young girl's life to spite her father, then his hands were tied.
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.
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Power was Elias' birthright. Someone like Aimias of Argyris could never understand, picked up from nothing by the lowest of nobility and given name through marriage. While there was a great many things that one's ambition could grant, there was something to nobility that had its own mystique. Or, at least, Elias always believed. Every movement Elias made was watched by appraising or scrutinizing eyes, taking his measure as he walked the earth with his Gods-given right to rule it. However, even the nobility wasn't immune to the righteous lightning of Zeus. The hammer of justice that swung into the heavens, only to bring its might down on the Stravos family.
Elias had learned it the hard way, and Aimias of Argyris had been his unwitting tutor. This dose of reality had laid Elias low, wounded his very notion of nobility and bringing to him the wretched understanding of consequence. The very idea of suffering was new to the Stravos heir then, a life of prosperity and taking one's station for granted brought to a crushing halt. Rather than repent for his crimes, there was denial. Refuting evidence and claiming it erroneous, dismissing the testimonies of that wretch Lukos as the words of a conspirator. It was a terrible thing, the lack of hindsight Elias had employed in his efforts, but he'd learned his lesson well.
Never grow a conscience, for it will poison you. Never admit your crimes, for they will destroy you. Never forgive your enemies, for they will usurp you.
Elias of Stravos would never forgive Aimias. Forever the spiteful heir would hold rage in his heart. However, as Aimias spoke again, laughter escaped the usurper's lips. The truth was, after all, such a hilarious thing. Aimias spoke the facts plainly, with no guile to his voice or artistic understanding of what it required to perceive the machinations of rule. The laughter bubbled up freely up until the Stravos released Aimias from his hold. He raised a hand, his palm lightly slapping the other man's cheek twice before he let a number of 'tsks' escape his lips.
"You hear what you want to hear, Aimias! Never once did I say that being in communication with our illustrious queen was treason. What I said," As Elias spoke, his tone turned from jovial at the end of his laughter, to a growing menace within his words. Truly, Elias loved to hear himself speak. The change in metre, the cadence as he sought to charm, then the resiliency that wound within him as he issued his carefully devised threats. Perhaps, in his efforts to intimidate Aimias, he'd mispoken? Or, the wretch lord of nothing had simply misheard. He blamed the filth's age and his station for such an oversight as he elaborated.
"Is that by keeping that knowledge from the crown and the people of Athenia, you commit treason. Imagine, Aimias, if you were in communication with her. Imagine, for a moment, how the people's tunes might change if their still-living queen knew their plight, and ignored it. And then imagine how a heartbroken sister might feel, being abandoned by the only immediate family she has left," he emphasized. Elias let his hands smooth along Aimias' chiton, as a false apology for his manhandling of the scholar just moments before.
"Wouldn't that be something for them to hear? But, more importantly, I'm not done with you yet, Aimias. You've come to learn my reason for intruding. I'd apologize, but certainly, as a scholar I'd hope you'd empathize with my urgency. But, while I have you here, there's something I want from you."
Even Aimias had to understand the nature of Elias' mercy. It was not given, nor granted, for any reason but his whim. Fairness, empathy, sympathy... these were lost insofar as their expression failed to benefit him. No, Elias of Stravos extended mercy to Aimias for reasons of diplomacy.
"Continue making snide passes and we'll see just how long you keep your tongue, friend. What I need from you, and please do remember this clearly, is for you to assist in the repair of my reputation. It's only fitting for the bastard who burned it to ashes, after all, to refute every bit of testimony as erroneous. Publically admit your utter failure as an arbiter of justice. Once you do, my friend, you won't need to watch your wife so carefully. Nor your daughter, hm?"
This, Elias found in poor taste. To involve children in the waging of political warfare the Stravos drew the line. But, Gods be damned to any line to be toed or crossed. In desperation, all was forgotten, and if Elias of Stravos need ruin a young girl's life to spite her father, then his hands were tied.
Power was Elias' birthright. Someone like Aimias of Argyris could never understand, picked up from nothing by the lowest of nobility and given name through marriage. While there was a great many things that one's ambition could grant, there was something to nobility that had its own mystique. Or, at least, Elias always believed. Every movement Elias made was watched by appraising or scrutinizing eyes, taking his measure as he walked the earth with his Gods-given right to rule it. However, even the nobility wasn't immune to the righteous lightning of Zeus. The hammer of justice that swung into the heavens, only to bring its might down on the Stravos family.
Elias had learned it the hard way, and Aimias of Argyris had been his unwitting tutor. This dose of reality had laid Elias low, wounded his very notion of nobility and bringing to him the wretched understanding of consequence. The very idea of suffering was new to the Stravos heir then, a life of prosperity and taking one's station for granted brought to a crushing halt. Rather than repent for his crimes, there was denial. Refuting evidence and claiming it erroneous, dismissing the testimonies of that wretch Lukos as the words of a conspirator. It was a terrible thing, the lack of hindsight Elias had employed in his efforts, but he'd learned his lesson well.
Never grow a conscience, for it will poison you. Never admit your crimes, for they will destroy you. Never forgive your enemies, for they will usurp you.
Elias of Stravos would never forgive Aimias. Forever the spiteful heir would hold rage in his heart. However, as Aimias spoke again, laughter escaped the usurper's lips. The truth was, after all, such a hilarious thing. Aimias spoke the facts plainly, with no guile to his voice or artistic understanding of what it required to perceive the machinations of rule. The laughter bubbled up freely up until the Stravos released Aimias from his hold. He raised a hand, his palm lightly slapping the other man's cheek twice before he let a number of 'tsks' escape his lips.
"You hear what you want to hear, Aimias! Never once did I say that being in communication with our illustrious queen was treason. What I said," As Elias spoke, his tone turned from jovial at the end of his laughter, to a growing menace within his words. Truly, Elias loved to hear himself speak. The change in metre, the cadence as he sought to charm, then the resiliency that wound within him as he issued his carefully devised threats. Perhaps, in his efforts to intimidate Aimias, he'd mispoken? Or, the wretch lord of nothing had simply misheard. He blamed the filth's age and his station for such an oversight as he elaborated.
"Is that by keeping that knowledge from the crown and the people of Athenia, you commit treason. Imagine, Aimias, if you were in communication with her. Imagine, for a moment, how the people's tunes might change if their still-living queen knew their plight, and ignored it. And then imagine how a heartbroken sister might feel, being abandoned by the only immediate family she has left," he emphasized. Elias let his hands smooth along Aimias' chiton, as a false apology for his manhandling of the scholar just moments before.
"Wouldn't that be something for them to hear? But, more importantly, I'm not done with you yet, Aimias. You've come to learn my reason for intruding. I'd apologize, but certainly, as a scholar I'd hope you'd empathize with my urgency. But, while I have you here, there's something I want from you."
Even Aimias had to understand the nature of Elias' mercy. It was not given, nor granted, for any reason but his whim. Fairness, empathy, sympathy... these were lost insofar as their expression failed to benefit him. No, Elias of Stravos extended mercy to Aimias for reasons of diplomacy.
"Continue making snide passes and we'll see just how long you keep your tongue, friend. What I need from you, and please do remember this clearly, is for you to assist in the repair of my reputation. It's only fitting for the bastard who burned it to ashes, after all, to refute every bit of testimony as erroneous. Publically admit your utter failure as an arbiter of justice. Once you do, my friend, you won't need to watch your wife so carefully. Nor your daughter, hm?"
This, Elias found in poor taste. To involve children in the waging of political warfare the Stravos drew the line. But, Gods be damned to any line to be toed or crossed. In desperation, all was forgotten, and if Elias of Stravos need ruin a young girl's life to spite her father, then his hands were tied.
He was an ambitious man, but not in the way that Elias would have thought to be important. His ambition lay in furthering the kingdom, in assisting the crown in success and wealth. For him, if the people didn’t succeed, there was no joy in his work. He didn’t want the power of others. He didn’t have the desire to be in charge, and he didn’t have the personality to be relied on like that. His knowledge was his biggest asset, and he didn’t seem to mind that. Aimias knew his place, even with his new title. He was destined to support leaders, and there was nothing wrong with that in his mind.
The longer he spent alone with the man, the more he was certain that he was insane. For no sane man would have that sort of laugh, would find the suffering of others as amusing as the Stravos man did. There was no joy in the current condition of the kingdom, and he wondered just how Elias could stand back and do nothing about it. At this point, he could become the savior and earn the people’s trust. But he was so hell bent on revenge and discrediting the Xanthos line that he’d lost sight of his real potential.
And that was just as upsetting as his initial actions.
He listened to Elias speak, and had to refrain from rolling his eyes at the man. ”Either way, no treason has been committed by the likes of me or mine. If you wish to think I’ve been in communication with Persephone to make yourself feel better, I’ll not change your mind on the matter. But the facts still stand that it is nearly impossible to communicate with someone who may or may not be alive. Believe me, I want nothing more than to inform her of the current situation.” He glared at the man, hands moving to rest on his hips.
It was the threat to his family that pushed him over the edge of calm. The boy was the same height as he was, but Aimias was older. He may not have been trained in hand to hand combat like Elias would have been, but there was a protectiveness that overwhelmed him. Toe to toe with the man, Aimias worked to maintain him calm. ”You leave my wife and child out of this.” He took several deep breaths, trying to calm his nerves as he continued to glare at the man.
This was why he mostly hated nobility. They thought they could do whatever they wished, without regard to the community as a whole. The fact that he had the audacity to bring innocent lives into the matter only made his hate for the man rage hot within him. Stepping back, Aimias went back to his desk, taking a seat to gather his thoughts. ”I will do what I can to refute the charges. No real trial means that it is just your reputation that is marred.” He was working on putting his desk back together as he spoke, needing something to do with his shaking hands. ”You do yourself no serve by allowing the Kingdom to suffer like this. Regardless of what you wish to do to the Xanthos name. Regardless of what you wish to do to me-- the further you let the kingdom fall, the less likely you are to be redeemed.”
He shook his head. ”How, pray tell, do you wish me to refute this publically?” His heart sank at the possibilities, of his own pristine reputation in ruined. And even more disheartening was what would happen to his wife’s reputation.
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He was an ambitious man, but not in the way that Elias would have thought to be important. His ambition lay in furthering the kingdom, in assisting the crown in success and wealth. For him, if the people didn’t succeed, there was no joy in his work. He didn’t want the power of others. He didn’t have the desire to be in charge, and he didn’t have the personality to be relied on like that. His knowledge was his biggest asset, and he didn’t seem to mind that. Aimias knew his place, even with his new title. He was destined to support leaders, and there was nothing wrong with that in his mind.
The longer he spent alone with the man, the more he was certain that he was insane. For no sane man would have that sort of laugh, would find the suffering of others as amusing as the Stravos man did. There was no joy in the current condition of the kingdom, and he wondered just how Elias could stand back and do nothing about it. At this point, he could become the savior and earn the people’s trust. But he was so hell bent on revenge and discrediting the Xanthos line that he’d lost sight of his real potential.
And that was just as upsetting as his initial actions.
He listened to Elias speak, and had to refrain from rolling his eyes at the man. ”Either way, no treason has been committed by the likes of me or mine. If you wish to think I’ve been in communication with Persephone to make yourself feel better, I’ll not change your mind on the matter. But the facts still stand that it is nearly impossible to communicate with someone who may or may not be alive. Believe me, I want nothing more than to inform her of the current situation.” He glared at the man, hands moving to rest on his hips.
It was the threat to his family that pushed him over the edge of calm. The boy was the same height as he was, but Aimias was older. He may not have been trained in hand to hand combat like Elias would have been, but there was a protectiveness that overwhelmed him. Toe to toe with the man, Aimias worked to maintain him calm. ”You leave my wife and child out of this.” He took several deep breaths, trying to calm his nerves as he continued to glare at the man.
This was why he mostly hated nobility. They thought they could do whatever they wished, without regard to the community as a whole. The fact that he had the audacity to bring innocent lives into the matter only made his hate for the man rage hot within him. Stepping back, Aimias went back to his desk, taking a seat to gather his thoughts. ”I will do what I can to refute the charges. No real trial means that it is just your reputation that is marred.” He was working on putting his desk back together as he spoke, needing something to do with his shaking hands. ”You do yourself no serve by allowing the Kingdom to suffer like this. Regardless of what you wish to do to the Xanthos name. Regardless of what you wish to do to me-- the further you let the kingdom fall, the less likely you are to be redeemed.”
He shook his head. ”How, pray tell, do you wish me to refute this publically?” His heart sank at the possibilities, of his own pristine reputation in ruined. And even more disheartening was what would happen to his wife’s reputation.
He was an ambitious man, but not in the way that Elias would have thought to be important. His ambition lay in furthering the kingdom, in assisting the crown in success and wealth. For him, if the people didn’t succeed, there was no joy in his work. He didn’t want the power of others. He didn’t have the desire to be in charge, and he didn’t have the personality to be relied on like that. His knowledge was his biggest asset, and he didn’t seem to mind that. Aimias knew his place, even with his new title. He was destined to support leaders, and there was nothing wrong with that in his mind.
The longer he spent alone with the man, the more he was certain that he was insane. For no sane man would have that sort of laugh, would find the suffering of others as amusing as the Stravos man did. There was no joy in the current condition of the kingdom, and he wondered just how Elias could stand back and do nothing about it. At this point, he could become the savior and earn the people’s trust. But he was so hell bent on revenge and discrediting the Xanthos line that he’d lost sight of his real potential.
And that was just as upsetting as his initial actions.
He listened to Elias speak, and had to refrain from rolling his eyes at the man. ”Either way, no treason has been committed by the likes of me or mine. If you wish to think I’ve been in communication with Persephone to make yourself feel better, I’ll not change your mind on the matter. But the facts still stand that it is nearly impossible to communicate with someone who may or may not be alive. Believe me, I want nothing more than to inform her of the current situation.” He glared at the man, hands moving to rest on his hips.
It was the threat to his family that pushed him over the edge of calm. The boy was the same height as he was, but Aimias was older. He may not have been trained in hand to hand combat like Elias would have been, but there was a protectiveness that overwhelmed him. Toe to toe with the man, Aimias worked to maintain him calm. ”You leave my wife and child out of this.” He took several deep breaths, trying to calm his nerves as he continued to glare at the man.
This was why he mostly hated nobility. They thought they could do whatever they wished, without regard to the community as a whole. The fact that he had the audacity to bring innocent lives into the matter only made his hate for the man rage hot within him. Stepping back, Aimias went back to his desk, taking a seat to gather his thoughts. ”I will do what I can to refute the charges. No real trial means that it is just your reputation that is marred.” He was working on putting his desk back together as he spoke, needing something to do with his shaking hands. ”You do yourself no serve by allowing the Kingdom to suffer like this. Regardless of what you wish to do to the Xanthos name. Regardless of what you wish to do to me-- the further you let the kingdom fall, the less likely you are to be redeemed.”
He shook his head. ”How, pray tell, do you wish me to refute this publically?” His heart sank at the possibilities, of his own pristine reputation in ruined. And even more disheartening was what would happen to his wife’s reputation.
Elias of Stravos might have ended his terrorizing of the Xanthos reputation and his destruction of Athenia's economy before Lukos had testified against him. He might have ended it at a certain amount, satisfied with the wounds he'd inflicted and glad to relieve the kingdom of its plights, to offer a hand of healing with the incomparable wealth of the Stravos coffers. Charity, after all, might well have been the saving grace he could offer to secure the throne of Athenia to him.
However, then Lukos opened his mouth. Then, Aimias opened his. Both brought Elias' machinations to the limelight, calling him a traitor and destroying his good will with the people of Athenia. Aimias of Argyris had been so keen to believe a pirate wretch, to extend his so-called treachery to the Senate and hang the Stravos name until it turned blue and ceased its struggle. Fortunately, Circenia and Keikelius of Stravos were not so easy to sway. Even in their son's disgrace, they aspired for their return to glory. The crimson and gold of the Stravos lineage meant something again, and for Aimias, that return to form meant a lifetime of suffering. Not just from Elias. Would Circenia ever forgive the man for throwing them into the mud? Perhaps Keikelius was not so vindictive, but where had Elias learned his nature from?
Aimias of Argyris was a man marked for misery, but it was Elias' mark to claim. In this room, he held the man's life in his hands. So easy it'd be to strike him down, to beat the peaceful scholar to unconsciousness, to secure him in chains, then throw his treacherous self into the ocean for the bottom feeders to pick clean. It wasn't like Elias hadn't done that exact chain of events before. It was, after all, his favored means of dealing with filth that betrayed him. Aimias was understandably angered by the threats Elias issued. Even the Stravos took a bit of issue with it, for his heart pined for a time that he might've called Iris his wife.
No longer, of course. There was no jealousy in Elias for Aimias' rise to nobility, for breaching into the proverbial bottom of the barrel of nobility and securing a fake barony. Elias believed this worthless sack beneath Iris. But in the end, Iris was likewise beneath Elias of Stravos. He laughed at his younger self, so keen on finding love where it did not exist. Romantic love was not a prerogative of nobility. Instead of it, there was arrangement. Instead, there was convincing oneself to love someone for the benefit of everything. Elias was not so naive to believe that Circenia and Keikelius were in love when they'd met. But, Chara perhaps was their true unification. And Elias could live with that for his own future.
A future filled with the power and influence of an Athenian king. A future where crimson and gold lived in the palati and all of the world looked to them as not only their rightful betters, but their divinely ordained rulers. As it was always meant to be. Elias at last deigned it proper to answer Aimias, once it seemed that his anger had reached a high. The angrier Aimias got, the more comfortable Elias became with the abatement of his own. He had the false noble exactly where he wanted him. He had the treacherous scum exactly where he belonged. Defensive, laid low, miserable in the company of his betters.
"You brought them into this the day you instigated the fall of Stravos. Pretend all you like that you are impartial. Pretend that you are an arbiter. But, you are blind in your favour of the Xanthos. You are blind and more importantly, you are an imbecile. No amount of scholarly pursuit will forgive the idiocy that dwells within. The foolishness to believe a pirate. The gullibility of being presented false evidence. A letter, Aimias?! A letter proves that Elias of Stravos is a traitor?"
Surely, Aimias could get at what he was doing. Rather than directly imply what he wanted, he stated the contradictions as insult, rebuking the fool for his idiocy before he stepped forward again. A hand rose up, whipping forth and striking the man square in the jaw. He pushed Aimias forward, a chill of pleasure rolling from the base of his spin to the last vertebrae of his neck before he stepped back. That was the limit of his abuse towards the man. To do more would bring implication of his coercion.
"I need no redemption in the eyes of an idiot. You, Aimias of Argyris, will tell all that will listen of your foolishness. You'll tell them that Elias is a man of mercy, not a traitor hellbent on the throne. I'm not in need of any sort of redemption, for as you say, no true trial has been thrust upon me. Everything in the way of Stravos rule has been a sham, a Xanthos ploy to keep a woman in power. A witch who threw her spell over the masses in the Senate. You'll tell them that you snapped out of that reverie, that you see at last the folly of your ways. You were ensnared, overwhelmed by bias. And now you've seen the truth.
If you love Athenia as you say you do, Aimias, then you'll throw yourself into the brush and allow me to burn you. These last flames will be the warmth to which a hurting Athenia draws towards. Then, and only then, will I bring healing. I will bring salvation and peace to an Athenia that deserves it."
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Elias of Stravos might have ended his terrorizing of the Xanthos reputation and his destruction of Athenia's economy before Lukos had testified against him. He might have ended it at a certain amount, satisfied with the wounds he'd inflicted and glad to relieve the kingdom of its plights, to offer a hand of healing with the incomparable wealth of the Stravos coffers. Charity, after all, might well have been the saving grace he could offer to secure the throne of Athenia to him.
However, then Lukos opened his mouth. Then, Aimias opened his. Both brought Elias' machinations to the limelight, calling him a traitor and destroying his good will with the people of Athenia. Aimias of Argyris had been so keen to believe a pirate wretch, to extend his so-called treachery to the Senate and hang the Stravos name until it turned blue and ceased its struggle. Fortunately, Circenia and Keikelius of Stravos were not so easy to sway. Even in their son's disgrace, they aspired for their return to glory. The crimson and gold of the Stravos lineage meant something again, and for Aimias, that return to form meant a lifetime of suffering. Not just from Elias. Would Circenia ever forgive the man for throwing them into the mud? Perhaps Keikelius was not so vindictive, but where had Elias learned his nature from?
Aimias of Argyris was a man marked for misery, but it was Elias' mark to claim. In this room, he held the man's life in his hands. So easy it'd be to strike him down, to beat the peaceful scholar to unconsciousness, to secure him in chains, then throw his treacherous self into the ocean for the bottom feeders to pick clean. It wasn't like Elias hadn't done that exact chain of events before. It was, after all, his favored means of dealing with filth that betrayed him. Aimias was understandably angered by the threats Elias issued. Even the Stravos took a bit of issue with it, for his heart pined for a time that he might've called Iris his wife.
No longer, of course. There was no jealousy in Elias for Aimias' rise to nobility, for breaching into the proverbial bottom of the barrel of nobility and securing a fake barony. Elias believed this worthless sack beneath Iris. But in the end, Iris was likewise beneath Elias of Stravos. He laughed at his younger self, so keen on finding love where it did not exist. Romantic love was not a prerogative of nobility. Instead of it, there was arrangement. Instead, there was convincing oneself to love someone for the benefit of everything. Elias was not so naive to believe that Circenia and Keikelius were in love when they'd met. But, Chara perhaps was their true unification. And Elias could live with that for his own future.
A future filled with the power and influence of an Athenian king. A future where crimson and gold lived in the palati and all of the world looked to them as not only their rightful betters, but their divinely ordained rulers. As it was always meant to be. Elias at last deigned it proper to answer Aimias, once it seemed that his anger had reached a high. The angrier Aimias got, the more comfortable Elias became with the abatement of his own. He had the false noble exactly where he wanted him. He had the treacherous scum exactly where he belonged. Defensive, laid low, miserable in the company of his betters.
"You brought them into this the day you instigated the fall of Stravos. Pretend all you like that you are impartial. Pretend that you are an arbiter. But, you are blind in your favour of the Xanthos. You are blind and more importantly, you are an imbecile. No amount of scholarly pursuit will forgive the idiocy that dwells within. The foolishness to believe a pirate. The gullibility of being presented false evidence. A letter, Aimias?! A letter proves that Elias of Stravos is a traitor?"
Surely, Aimias could get at what he was doing. Rather than directly imply what he wanted, he stated the contradictions as insult, rebuking the fool for his idiocy before he stepped forward again. A hand rose up, whipping forth and striking the man square in the jaw. He pushed Aimias forward, a chill of pleasure rolling from the base of his spin to the last vertebrae of his neck before he stepped back. That was the limit of his abuse towards the man. To do more would bring implication of his coercion.
"I need no redemption in the eyes of an idiot. You, Aimias of Argyris, will tell all that will listen of your foolishness. You'll tell them that Elias is a man of mercy, not a traitor hellbent on the throne. I'm not in need of any sort of redemption, for as you say, no true trial has been thrust upon me. Everything in the way of Stravos rule has been a sham, a Xanthos ploy to keep a woman in power. A witch who threw her spell over the masses in the Senate. You'll tell them that you snapped out of that reverie, that you see at last the folly of your ways. You were ensnared, overwhelmed by bias. And now you've seen the truth.
If you love Athenia as you say you do, Aimias, then you'll throw yourself into the brush and allow me to burn you. These last flames will be the warmth to which a hurting Athenia draws towards. Then, and only then, will I bring healing. I will bring salvation and peace to an Athenia that deserves it."
Elias of Stravos might have ended his terrorizing of the Xanthos reputation and his destruction of Athenia's economy before Lukos had testified against him. He might have ended it at a certain amount, satisfied with the wounds he'd inflicted and glad to relieve the kingdom of its plights, to offer a hand of healing with the incomparable wealth of the Stravos coffers. Charity, after all, might well have been the saving grace he could offer to secure the throne of Athenia to him.
However, then Lukos opened his mouth. Then, Aimias opened his. Both brought Elias' machinations to the limelight, calling him a traitor and destroying his good will with the people of Athenia. Aimias of Argyris had been so keen to believe a pirate wretch, to extend his so-called treachery to the Senate and hang the Stravos name until it turned blue and ceased its struggle. Fortunately, Circenia and Keikelius of Stravos were not so easy to sway. Even in their son's disgrace, they aspired for their return to glory. The crimson and gold of the Stravos lineage meant something again, and for Aimias, that return to form meant a lifetime of suffering. Not just from Elias. Would Circenia ever forgive the man for throwing them into the mud? Perhaps Keikelius was not so vindictive, but where had Elias learned his nature from?
Aimias of Argyris was a man marked for misery, but it was Elias' mark to claim. In this room, he held the man's life in his hands. So easy it'd be to strike him down, to beat the peaceful scholar to unconsciousness, to secure him in chains, then throw his treacherous self into the ocean for the bottom feeders to pick clean. It wasn't like Elias hadn't done that exact chain of events before. It was, after all, his favored means of dealing with filth that betrayed him. Aimias was understandably angered by the threats Elias issued. Even the Stravos took a bit of issue with it, for his heart pined for a time that he might've called Iris his wife.
No longer, of course. There was no jealousy in Elias for Aimias' rise to nobility, for breaching into the proverbial bottom of the barrel of nobility and securing a fake barony. Elias believed this worthless sack beneath Iris. But in the end, Iris was likewise beneath Elias of Stravos. He laughed at his younger self, so keen on finding love where it did not exist. Romantic love was not a prerogative of nobility. Instead of it, there was arrangement. Instead, there was convincing oneself to love someone for the benefit of everything. Elias was not so naive to believe that Circenia and Keikelius were in love when they'd met. But, Chara perhaps was their true unification. And Elias could live with that for his own future.
A future filled with the power and influence of an Athenian king. A future where crimson and gold lived in the palati and all of the world looked to them as not only their rightful betters, but their divinely ordained rulers. As it was always meant to be. Elias at last deigned it proper to answer Aimias, once it seemed that his anger had reached a high. The angrier Aimias got, the more comfortable Elias became with the abatement of his own. He had the false noble exactly where he wanted him. He had the treacherous scum exactly where he belonged. Defensive, laid low, miserable in the company of his betters.
"You brought them into this the day you instigated the fall of Stravos. Pretend all you like that you are impartial. Pretend that you are an arbiter. But, you are blind in your favour of the Xanthos. You are blind and more importantly, you are an imbecile. No amount of scholarly pursuit will forgive the idiocy that dwells within. The foolishness to believe a pirate. The gullibility of being presented false evidence. A letter, Aimias?! A letter proves that Elias of Stravos is a traitor?"
Surely, Aimias could get at what he was doing. Rather than directly imply what he wanted, he stated the contradictions as insult, rebuking the fool for his idiocy before he stepped forward again. A hand rose up, whipping forth and striking the man square in the jaw. He pushed Aimias forward, a chill of pleasure rolling from the base of his spin to the last vertebrae of his neck before he stepped back. That was the limit of his abuse towards the man. To do more would bring implication of his coercion.
"I need no redemption in the eyes of an idiot. You, Aimias of Argyris, will tell all that will listen of your foolishness. You'll tell them that Elias is a man of mercy, not a traitor hellbent on the throne. I'm not in need of any sort of redemption, for as you say, no true trial has been thrust upon me. Everything in the way of Stravos rule has been a sham, a Xanthos ploy to keep a woman in power. A witch who threw her spell over the masses in the Senate. You'll tell them that you snapped out of that reverie, that you see at last the folly of your ways. You were ensnared, overwhelmed by bias. And now you've seen the truth.
If you love Athenia as you say you do, Aimias, then you'll throw yourself into the brush and allow me to burn you. These last flames will be the warmth to which a hurting Athenia draws towards. Then, and only then, will I bring healing. I will bring salvation and peace to an Athenia that deserves it."
Aimias could not say that he was sorry that he’d exposed the Senate to the kind of man that Elias really was. They deserved to know his motives, to know that the man would not protect their interested if his own were at risk. This was a man who would burn the city down in order to claim the role of savor, without a second thought to the lives lost. It made him nauseated to think that a man like this was now in a position of pseudo power. It was fear that would lay waste to Athenia, and Aimias was falling right into that.
Because if you couldn’t get what you wanted otherwise, why not use fear?
His stomach churned as he battled his obligations in his mind. He had lives to protect, including that of Emilia. There was no choice but to do what Elias demanded. He would let his own reputation crumble to save those he cared about. And he would have to accept whatever they did after the fact. If Iris never spoke to him again, it would have been worth it to save her life and reputation.
He listened to the ease in which Elias assaulted his evidence. And while it seemed simple enough hearing it, Aimias knew otherwise. For they believed it simply because they knew the reputation of the man. He was not one to take anything without ensuring there was more to it. He had voiced the same concerns that Elias was stating now, until he had done his due diligence to find the facts. And in those facts, he had found Elias to be scum. The man only continued to solidify that resolution as he spoke. For while Lukos may have been a pirate, even he seemed to have a set of morals, so to speak. The Senate trusted Aimias’s history of patience and research and sense of justice to know that he must have found it to be true. And now, with a blink of an eye, he was supposed to make himself seem a fool.
Easier said than done.
The slap across his jaw whipped his head to the side, caught completely off guard by it. He was not a man prone to violence, knowing to be a man who preferred to use his knowledge to fight battles. Had he been the kind of boy who had found himself in these kinds of quarrels as a youth, he may have grabbed him by his tunic and demanded he leave. But he was the one who was too busy studying and working to ever anger anyone enough to fight. The shock of his action made him quiet, unable to even bring his hand to his face.
”You’ve made your point.” He said quietly, his chest rising and falling with anger that he did not know an outlet for. ”Get out.” He said firmly, pushing the man off of him and back towards the door. Aimias didn’t give him much of a choice continuing to push him until he was past the threshold, then slammed the heavy door closed behind him. Aimias locked it, for good measure, before he moved back to his desk, slowing continuing to clean up the mess within.
It was the first mess Elias had made that he would have to clean up, but as the man had told him, it would not be the last.
And his own life would dissolve at the man’s feet.
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Aimias could not say that he was sorry that he’d exposed the Senate to the kind of man that Elias really was. They deserved to know his motives, to know that the man would not protect their interested if his own were at risk. This was a man who would burn the city down in order to claim the role of savor, without a second thought to the lives lost. It made him nauseated to think that a man like this was now in a position of pseudo power. It was fear that would lay waste to Athenia, and Aimias was falling right into that.
Because if you couldn’t get what you wanted otherwise, why not use fear?
His stomach churned as he battled his obligations in his mind. He had lives to protect, including that of Emilia. There was no choice but to do what Elias demanded. He would let his own reputation crumble to save those he cared about. And he would have to accept whatever they did after the fact. If Iris never spoke to him again, it would have been worth it to save her life and reputation.
He listened to the ease in which Elias assaulted his evidence. And while it seemed simple enough hearing it, Aimias knew otherwise. For they believed it simply because they knew the reputation of the man. He was not one to take anything without ensuring there was more to it. He had voiced the same concerns that Elias was stating now, until he had done his due diligence to find the facts. And in those facts, he had found Elias to be scum. The man only continued to solidify that resolution as he spoke. For while Lukos may have been a pirate, even he seemed to have a set of morals, so to speak. The Senate trusted Aimias’s history of patience and research and sense of justice to know that he must have found it to be true. And now, with a blink of an eye, he was supposed to make himself seem a fool.
Easier said than done.
The slap across his jaw whipped his head to the side, caught completely off guard by it. He was not a man prone to violence, knowing to be a man who preferred to use his knowledge to fight battles. Had he been the kind of boy who had found himself in these kinds of quarrels as a youth, he may have grabbed him by his tunic and demanded he leave. But he was the one who was too busy studying and working to ever anger anyone enough to fight. The shock of his action made him quiet, unable to even bring his hand to his face.
”You’ve made your point.” He said quietly, his chest rising and falling with anger that he did not know an outlet for. ”Get out.” He said firmly, pushing the man off of him and back towards the door. Aimias didn’t give him much of a choice continuing to push him until he was past the threshold, then slammed the heavy door closed behind him. Aimias locked it, for good measure, before he moved back to his desk, slowing continuing to clean up the mess within.
It was the first mess Elias had made that he would have to clean up, but as the man had told him, it would not be the last.
And his own life would dissolve at the man’s feet.
Aimias could not say that he was sorry that he’d exposed the Senate to the kind of man that Elias really was. They deserved to know his motives, to know that the man would not protect their interested if his own were at risk. This was a man who would burn the city down in order to claim the role of savor, without a second thought to the lives lost. It made him nauseated to think that a man like this was now in a position of pseudo power. It was fear that would lay waste to Athenia, and Aimias was falling right into that.
Because if you couldn’t get what you wanted otherwise, why not use fear?
His stomach churned as he battled his obligations in his mind. He had lives to protect, including that of Emilia. There was no choice but to do what Elias demanded. He would let his own reputation crumble to save those he cared about. And he would have to accept whatever they did after the fact. If Iris never spoke to him again, it would have been worth it to save her life and reputation.
He listened to the ease in which Elias assaulted his evidence. And while it seemed simple enough hearing it, Aimias knew otherwise. For they believed it simply because they knew the reputation of the man. He was not one to take anything without ensuring there was more to it. He had voiced the same concerns that Elias was stating now, until he had done his due diligence to find the facts. And in those facts, he had found Elias to be scum. The man only continued to solidify that resolution as he spoke. For while Lukos may have been a pirate, even he seemed to have a set of morals, so to speak. The Senate trusted Aimias’s history of patience and research and sense of justice to know that he must have found it to be true. And now, with a blink of an eye, he was supposed to make himself seem a fool.
Easier said than done.
The slap across his jaw whipped his head to the side, caught completely off guard by it. He was not a man prone to violence, knowing to be a man who preferred to use his knowledge to fight battles. Had he been the kind of boy who had found himself in these kinds of quarrels as a youth, he may have grabbed him by his tunic and demanded he leave. But he was the one who was too busy studying and working to ever anger anyone enough to fight. The shock of his action made him quiet, unable to even bring his hand to his face.
”You’ve made your point.” He said quietly, his chest rising and falling with anger that he did not know an outlet for. ”Get out.” He said firmly, pushing the man off of him and back towards the door. Aimias didn’t give him much of a choice continuing to push him until he was past the threshold, then slammed the heavy door closed behind him. Aimias locked it, for good measure, before he moved back to his desk, slowing continuing to clean up the mess within.
It was the first mess Elias had made that he would have to clean up, but as the man had told him, it would not be the last.
And his own life would dissolve at the man’s feet.