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Out of jail and on the mend from being stabbed, Lukos was still moving around slower than he liked to do. He’d had to delegate most of the more active tasks of running the ship to Arktos or Catos, or even Apollos, when there was too much. Mostly he’d been stuck onboard with Bianor, going over accounts like the old man had wanted to do for nearly a year. Sitting in the bowels of the ship, leaning half on the table, head buried in his arms, he was ignoring the whispering droning of Bianor’s dull voice. Two candles flickered, casting weak light and only when he heard footsteps drumming down the stairs did Lukos peek one eye out from his makeshift nest.
“Captain, some soldier’s here to see you,” Catos leaned on the doorframe, one rough thumb stuck out like the soldier was right behind him instead of being down on the docks.
“Good,” Lukos eased himself up into a proper sitting position.
”Captain, you promised!” Bianor gathered up the account book and shook it right into Lukos’s face. Lukos blinked and pulled back, trying to escape the stench of musty paper and fresh ink. ”I want this balanced with your say so! I won’t have you knifing me for negligence when it was you who wouldn’t sit still long enough to look!” The old man’s paunchy face was red and his cheeks trembled as he spoke. Lukos glowered at him.
“Calm down,” he snapped. “We will go over this but give me a break, old man. Your numbers are putting me to sleep. I’m going to wake up a bit and come back down! Zeus’s beard,” he cursed and then stood, ignoring the pure loathing in Bianor’s eyes as the older man scowled.
”Ten minutes,” Bianor creaked to his feet, rubbing his knobby knees to follow after the captain.
“Shut up,” Lukos sighed.
They were quite the pair at the moment, neither moving very fast. One from age and rheumatism, one from a momentary lapse in judgement and the stabbing that had followed. Bianor looped one withered arm around Lukos’s waist and Lukos looped his arm around the old man’s shoulders. Together, they hobbled up the steps and released each other as soon as they got to the top of the stairs, their momentary truce complete. Now they could go back to despising each other as much as they pleased until it came time to go back downstairs.
Crossing the deck, Lukos resisted holding his side. Whatever this soldier wanted, he didn’t need to know that he was injured. Lukos didn’t want to be on the immediate defensive. Coming to the railing, he leaned the elbow of his good side on it, as though he was being lazy and totally at his ease, and looked down at a man who couldn’t be much younger than himself. Squinting down, he lifted his chin.
“I’m the captain,” he held out the arm on his bad side and pretended like that didn’t hurt. “What do you want?”
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Out of jail and on the mend from being stabbed, Lukos was still moving around slower than he liked to do. He’d had to delegate most of the more active tasks of running the ship to Arktos or Catos, or even Apollos, when there was too much. Mostly he’d been stuck onboard with Bianor, going over accounts like the old man had wanted to do for nearly a year. Sitting in the bowels of the ship, leaning half on the table, head buried in his arms, he was ignoring the whispering droning of Bianor’s dull voice. Two candles flickered, casting weak light and only when he heard footsteps drumming down the stairs did Lukos peek one eye out from his makeshift nest.
“Captain, some soldier’s here to see you,” Catos leaned on the doorframe, one rough thumb stuck out like the soldier was right behind him instead of being down on the docks.
“Good,” Lukos eased himself up into a proper sitting position.
”Captain, you promised!” Bianor gathered up the account book and shook it right into Lukos’s face. Lukos blinked and pulled back, trying to escape the stench of musty paper and fresh ink. ”I want this balanced with your say so! I won’t have you knifing me for negligence when it was you who wouldn’t sit still long enough to look!” The old man’s paunchy face was red and his cheeks trembled as he spoke. Lukos glowered at him.
“Calm down,” he snapped. “We will go over this but give me a break, old man. Your numbers are putting me to sleep. I’m going to wake up a bit and come back down! Zeus’s beard,” he cursed and then stood, ignoring the pure loathing in Bianor’s eyes as the older man scowled.
”Ten minutes,” Bianor creaked to his feet, rubbing his knobby knees to follow after the captain.
“Shut up,” Lukos sighed.
They were quite the pair at the moment, neither moving very fast. One from age and rheumatism, one from a momentary lapse in judgement and the stabbing that had followed. Bianor looped one withered arm around Lukos’s waist and Lukos looped his arm around the old man’s shoulders. Together, they hobbled up the steps and released each other as soon as they got to the top of the stairs, their momentary truce complete. Now they could go back to despising each other as much as they pleased until it came time to go back downstairs.
Crossing the deck, Lukos resisted holding his side. Whatever this soldier wanted, he didn’t need to know that he was injured. Lukos didn’t want to be on the immediate defensive. Coming to the railing, he leaned the elbow of his good side on it, as though he was being lazy and totally at his ease, and looked down at a man who couldn’t be much younger than himself. Squinting down, he lifted his chin.
“I’m the captain,” he held out the arm on his bad side and pretended like that didn’t hurt. “What do you want?”
Out of jail and on the mend from being stabbed, Lukos was still moving around slower than he liked to do. He’d had to delegate most of the more active tasks of running the ship to Arktos or Catos, or even Apollos, when there was too much. Mostly he’d been stuck onboard with Bianor, going over accounts like the old man had wanted to do for nearly a year. Sitting in the bowels of the ship, leaning half on the table, head buried in his arms, he was ignoring the whispering droning of Bianor’s dull voice. Two candles flickered, casting weak light and only when he heard footsteps drumming down the stairs did Lukos peek one eye out from his makeshift nest.
“Captain, some soldier’s here to see you,” Catos leaned on the doorframe, one rough thumb stuck out like the soldier was right behind him instead of being down on the docks.
“Good,” Lukos eased himself up into a proper sitting position.
”Captain, you promised!” Bianor gathered up the account book and shook it right into Lukos’s face. Lukos blinked and pulled back, trying to escape the stench of musty paper and fresh ink. ”I want this balanced with your say so! I won’t have you knifing me for negligence when it was you who wouldn’t sit still long enough to look!” The old man’s paunchy face was red and his cheeks trembled as he spoke. Lukos glowered at him.
“Calm down,” he snapped. “We will go over this but give me a break, old man. Your numbers are putting me to sleep. I’m going to wake up a bit and come back down! Zeus’s beard,” he cursed and then stood, ignoring the pure loathing in Bianor’s eyes as the older man scowled.
”Ten minutes,” Bianor creaked to his feet, rubbing his knobby knees to follow after the captain.
“Shut up,” Lukos sighed.
They were quite the pair at the moment, neither moving very fast. One from age and rheumatism, one from a momentary lapse in judgement and the stabbing that had followed. Bianor looped one withered arm around Lukos’s waist and Lukos looped his arm around the old man’s shoulders. Together, they hobbled up the steps and released each other as soon as they got to the top of the stairs, their momentary truce complete. Now they could go back to despising each other as much as they pleased until it came time to go back downstairs.
Crossing the deck, Lukos resisted holding his side. Whatever this soldier wanted, he didn’t need to know that he was injured. Lukos didn’t want to be on the immediate defensive. Coming to the railing, he leaned the elbow of his good side on it, as though he was being lazy and totally at his ease, and looked down at a man who couldn’t be much younger than himself. Squinting down, he lifted his chin.
“I’m the captain,” he held out the arm on his bad side and pretended like that didn’t hurt. “What do you want?”
The request wasn't one of the oddest ones that Krysto had ever recieved, and he understood the need for it. With the talk of war exploding into a cresendo of noise, it was only natural that the militants of Taengea would attempt to find some extra ways to protect the Kingdom. Like any task given to him by the now Prince Achilleas, Krysto did his job duitifully. And quite literally. He had been tasked with securing extra weapons for the war because Prince Achilleas had been worried that there would not be enough to go around. While Krysto doubted that to be true, he had been known to be proven wrong on many occassions.
Besides. Weapons broke all the time. They would need as many as they could get their hands on if things were to turn into a blood bath. Which was likely. Neither Taengea nor Egypt were known for being clean on the killing fields and Krysto had killed enough Egyptians in his lifetime to know that all blood ran red no matter what Kingdom it spilled from. Thus, the need had been born and Krysto was not going to argue the logic because it was sound. It was better to be prepared than not prepared at all. That was the way of things. If they weren't prepared for every possible thing that could go wrong, they would be out of luck when they came to that specific road block.
That was why he was here, hunting down someone who could smuggle more weapons into Taengea just so that they could all be prepared for a war. Overprepared for war. But rather be overprepared than underprepared. Dressed in his usual uniform, Krysto rubbed absently at his beard, glancing from side to side as he moved along the docks in the port. He usually wasn't one to come this close to the water, but he found that what he needed would not be easily caught just across land. Someone would need to sail for what he wanted. At least, that was what he assumed would need to happen unless someone in Taengea had a large sum of weapons to supply the Kingdom.
Sniffing around brought him a few leads and those few leads brought him to the dock before the Aceton. He'd seen this ship in the port multiple times, but it wasn't really his job to approach it. Now, though, Krysto needed to negotiate. After explaining to the man at the gangplank that he needed to speak with the ship's Captain, Krysto had a few moments to think about what it was he was going to ask and how he was to ask it. Along with payment. He was sure that Prince Achilleas would spare little expense if it meant their soldiers would remain protected.
Waiting patiently, Krysto cupped his hands behind his back, keeping his gaze firmly on the ship until Lukos made an appearance. Giving a slight nod of his head, he observed the other man with a keen eye. "My name is Captan Krysto," he introduced himself, "I work closely with Prince Achilleas and he's tasked me with securing... product. Quickly. There is good pay involved if you see fit to listen and take to the offer."
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This character is currently a work in progress.
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The request wasn't one of the oddest ones that Krysto had ever recieved, and he understood the need for it. With the talk of war exploding into a cresendo of noise, it was only natural that the militants of Taengea would attempt to find some extra ways to protect the Kingdom. Like any task given to him by the now Prince Achilleas, Krysto did his job duitifully. And quite literally. He had been tasked with securing extra weapons for the war because Prince Achilleas had been worried that there would not be enough to go around. While Krysto doubted that to be true, he had been known to be proven wrong on many occassions.
Besides. Weapons broke all the time. They would need as many as they could get their hands on if things were to turn into a blood bath. Which was likely. Neither Taengea nor Egypt were known for being clean on the killing fields and Krysto had killed enough Egyptians in his lifetime to know that all blood ran red no matter what Kingdom it spilled from. Thus, the need had been born and Krysto was not going to argue the logic because it was sound. It was better to be prepared than not prepared at all. That was the way of things. If they weren't prepared for every possible thing that could go wrong, they would be out of luck when they came to that specific road block.
That was why he was here, hunting down someone who could smuggle more weapons into Taengea just so that they could all be prepared for a war. Overprepared for war. But rather be overprepared than underprepared. Dressed in his usual uniform, Krysto rubbed absently at his beard, glancing from side to side as he moved along the docks in the port. He usually wasn't one to come this close to the water, but he found that what he needed would not be easily caught just across land. Someone would need to sail for what he wanted. At least, that was what he assumed would need to happen unless someone in Taengea had a large sum of weapons to supply the Kingdom.
Sniffing around brought him a few leads and those few leads brought him to the dock before the Aceton. He'd seen this ship in the port multiple times, but it wasn't really his job to approach it. Now, though, Krysto needed to negotiate. After explaining to the man at the gangplank that he needed to speak with the ship's Captain, Krysto had a few moments to think about what it was he was going to ask and how he was to ask it. Along with payment. He was sure that Prince Achilleas would spare little expense if it meant their soldiers would remain protected.
Waiting patiently, Krysto cupped his hands behind his back, keeping his gaze firmly on the ship until Lukos made an appearance. Giving a slight nod of his head, he observed the other man with a keen eye. "My name is Captan Krysto," he introduced himself, "I work closely with Prince Achilleas and he's tasked me with securing... product. Quickly. There is good pay involved if you see fit to listen and take to the offer."
The request wasn't one of the oddest ones that Krysto had ever recieved, and he understood the need for it. With the talk of war exploding into a cresendo of noise, it was only natural that the militants of Taengea would attempt to find some extra ways to protect the Kingdom. Like any task given to him by the now Prince Achilleas, Krysto did his job duitifully. And quite literally. He had been tasked with securing extra weapons for the war because Prince Achilleas had been worried that there would not be enough to go around. While Krysto doubted that to be true, he had been known to be proven wrong on many occassions.
Besides. Weapons broke all the time. They would need as many as they could get their hands on if things were to turn into a blood bath. Which was likely. Neither Taengea nor Egypt were known for being clean on the killing fields and Krysto had killed enough Egyptians in his lifetime to know that all blood ran red no matter what Kingdom it spilled from. Thus, the need had been born and Krysto was not going to argue the logic because it was sound. It was better to be prepared than not prepared at all. That was the way of things. If they weren't prepared for every possible thing that could go wrong, they would be out of luck when they came to that specific road block.
That was why he was here, hunting down someone who could smuggle more weapons into Taengea just so that they could all be prepared for a war. Overprepared for war. But rather be overprepared than underprepared. Dressed in his usual uniform, Krysto rubbed absently at his beard, glancing from side to side as he moved along the docks in the port. He usually wasn't one to come this close to the water, but he found that what he needed would not be easily caught just across land. Someone would need to sail for what he wanted. At least, that was what he assumed would need to happen unless someone in Taengea had a large sum of weapons to supply the Kingdom.
Sniffing around brought him a few leads and those few leads brought him to the dock before the Aceton. He'd seen this ship in the port multiple times, but it wasn't really his job to approach it. Now, though, Krysto needed to negotiate. After explaining to the man at the gangplank that he needed to speak with the ship's Captain, Krysto had a few moments to think about what it was he was going to ask and how he was to ask it. Along with payment. He was sure that Prince Achilleas would spare little expense if it meant their soldiers would remain protected.
Waiting patiently, Krysto cupped his hands behind his back, keeping his gaze firmly on the ship until Lukos made an appearance. Giving a slight nod of his head, he observed the other man with a keen eye. "My name is Captan Krysto," he introduced himself, "I work closely with Prince Achilleas and he's tasked me with securing... product. Quickly. There is good pay involved if you see fit to listen and take to the offer."
“Captain Krysto,” Lukos repeated, and while his first impulse was to make fun of the man shouting up at him, he did not. For two reasons, the first being the most important; he couldn’t defend himself. It was one thing to run his mouth when he had the skill to back it up and another just to court trouble for its own sake. So he kept quiet after that, though his eyebrows raised higher and higher with each word out of the captain’s mouth.
“Prince Achilleas?” he checked, not totally sure he’d heard that right. Prince Achilleas from Aphrodite’s temple? Prince Achilleas with whom he’d crossed swords in the surrounding gardens? The same prince he’d soundly insulted with a satisfying degree of success? The prince who’d drawn blood from him? The same prince who’d sent him to jail and left him there for a few days and then released him? That Prince Achilleas?
“Prince Achilleas wants to pay me to transport product?” Lukos stood up straighter, rubbing his chin. He didn’t ask what the product was. It didn’t matter. What mattered was that the prince had finally come to his senses. Perhaps this was some sort of apology? An ‘I’m sorry I wrongly put you in jail’? Obviously the man knew talent when he saw it. Lukos leaned back on the railing, stroking his own ego. Yes, that must be it. Achilleas wanted someone able, and capable. Clearly. Which he most certainly was.
Moving slowly along the railing, though still holding himself stiffly upright and moved down to the center of the gangway, looking down at Captain Krysto. “I see. You may tell your prince that I will meet with him. When does he wish me there?”
This was too perfect. If he could secure the business of the new crown prince, then that was a very, very important contact. He almost wished that he hadn’t kicked Achilleas in the backside at the temple, but, ah well. There was no going back and it had been fun. The blazing look of dumbfounded shock was still worth it and it was an image that Lukos had played over and over in his mind while sitting bored as fuck in prison. The stupefied outraged expression Achilleas had offered up was his most cherished memory.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
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“Captain Krysto,” Lukos repeated, and while his first impulse was to make fun of the man shouting up at him, he did not. For two reasons, the first being the most important; he couldn’t defend himself. It was one thing to run his mouth when he had the skill to back it up and another just to court trouble for its own sake. So he kept quiet after that, though his eyebrows raised higher and higher with each word out of the captain’s mouth.
“Prince Achilleas?” he checked, not totally sure he’d heard that right. Prince Achilleas from Aphrodite’s temple? Prince Achilleas with whom he’d crossed swords in the surrounding gardens? The same prince he’d soundly insulted with a satisfying degree of success? The prince who’d drawn blood from him? The same prince who’d sent him to jail and left him there for a few days and then released him? That Prince Achilleas?
“Prince Achilleas wants to pay me to transport product?” Lukos stood up straighter, rubbing his chin. He didn’t ask what the product was. It didn’t matter. What mattered was that the prince had finally come to his senses. Perhaps this was some sort of apology? An ‘I’m sorry I wrongly put you in jail’? Obviously the man knew talent when he saw it. Lukos leaned back on the railing, stroking his own ego. Yes, that must be it. Achilleas wanted someone able, and capable. Clearly. Which he most certainly was.
Moving slowly along the railing, though still holding himself stiffly upright and moved down to the center of the gangway, looking down at Captain Krysto. “I see. You may tell your prince that I will meet with him. When does he wish me there?”
This was too perfect. If he could secure the business of the new crown prince, then that was a very, very important contact. He almost wished that he hadn’t kicked Achilleas in the backside at the temple, but, ah well. There was no going back and it had been fun. The blazing look of dumbfounded shock was still worth it and it was an image that Lukos had played over and over in his mind while sitting bored as fuck in prison. The stupefied outraged expression Achilleas had offered up was his most cherished memory.
“Captain Krysto,” Lukos repeated, and while his first impulse was to make fun of the man shouting up at him, he did not. For two reasons, the first being the most important; he couldn’t defend himself. It was one thing to run his mouth when he had the skill to back it up and another just to court trouble for its own sake. So he kept quiet after that, though his eyebrows raised higher and higher with each word out of the captain’s mouth.
“Prince Achilleas?” he checked, not totally sure he’d heard that right. Prince Achilleas from Aphrodite’s temple? Prince Achilleas with whom he’d crossed swords in the surrounding gardens? The same prince he’d soundly insulted with a satisfying degree of success? The prince who’d drawn blood from him? The same prince who’d sent him to jail and left him there for a few days and then released him? That Prince Achilleas?
“Prince Achilleas wants to pay me to transport product?” Lukos stood up straighter, rubbing his chin. He didn’t ask what the product was. It didn’t matter. What mattered was that the prince had finally come to his senses. Perhaps this was some sort of apology? An ‘I’m sorry I wrongly put you in jail’? Obviously the man knew talent when he saw it. Lukos leaned back on the railing, stroking his own ego. Yes, that must be it. Achilleas wanted someone able, and capable. Clearly. Which he most certainly was.
Moving slowly along the railing, though still holding himself stiffly upright and moved down to the center of the gangway, looking down at Captain Krysto. “I see. You may tell your prince that I will meet with him. When does he wish me there?”
This was too perfect. If he could secure the business of the new crown prince, then that was a very, very important contact. He almost wished that he hadn’t kicked Achilleas in the backside at the temple, but, ah well. There was no going back and it had been fun. The blazing look of dumbfounded shock was still worth it and it was an image that Lukos had played over and over in his mind while sitting bored as fuck in prison. The stupefied outraged expression Achilleas had offered up was his most cherished memory.
Apparently, this ship captain had little manners to speak of because he was forced to remain on the docks rather than come up to speak with him on a more personal level. Krysto took a moment to silence himself, keeping his hands firmly cupped behind his back and brushing the small knife tucked into his uniform. If anything were to go wrong, it would offer little protection, but it would do some damage. As would the axe at his hip. But his goal was not to kill this man if he could truly avoid it.
Any aggressive actions taken would have Krysto on high alert and even higher defense. He caught the additional inflection when Lukos referred to himself in regards to Prince Achilleas, and he filed that away in the back of his mind. Whether there was something really there or not, he didn't know. Lukos was likely a man just stunned by the fact that a prince was asking his help, and willing to pay for it, at that.
"Surprising, isn't it?" Krysto offered with a wry smile. "He doesn't often outsource the work he needs done to anyone not in the royal fleets, but this... its a little more vital than running through the proper channels," Krysto noted lightly. And this was true. If they were to go through the proper steps to get this job done, things could take weeks and they didn't have weeks. Krysto understood the sense of urgency in this regard, and thus, he was here.
Trailing to the entrance to the gangplank, Krysto kept his feet on the docks but let his hands drop to his sides to observe the captain standing on the ship above him. "He will see you tomorrow, late morning into the early afternoon," Krysto instructed with practiced ease. "You two have much to discuss so make sure to leave a good padding of time to sit down with him," the captain added, "Your pay will be discussed between the two of you."
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Apparently, this ship captain had little manners to speak of because he was forced to remain on the docks rather than come up to speak with him on a more personal level. Krysto took a moment to silence himself, keeping his hands firmly cupped behind his back and brushing the small knife tucked into his uniform. If anything were to go wrong, it would offer little protection, but it would do some damage. As would the axe at his hip. But his goal was not to kill this man if he could truly avoid it.
Any aggressive actions taken would have Krysto on high alert and even higher defense. He caught the additional inflection when Lukos referred to himself in regards to Prince Achilleas, and he filed that away in the back of his mind. Whether there was something really there or not, he didn't know. Lukos was likely a man just stunned by the fact that a prince was asking his help, and willing to pay for it, at that.
"Surprising, isn't it?" Krysto offered with a wry smile. "He doesn't often outsource the work he needs done to anyone not in the royal fleets, but this... its a little more vital than running through the proper channels," Krysto noted lightly. And this was true. If they were to go through the proper steps to get this job done, things could take weeks and they didn't have weeks. Krysto understood the sense of urgency in this regard, and thus, he was here.
Trailing to the entrance to the gangplank, Krysto kept his feet on the docks but let his hands drop to his sides to observe the captain standing on the ship above him. "He will see you tomorrow, late morning into the early afternoon," Krysto instructed with practiced ease. "You two have much to discuss so make sure to leave a good padding of time to sit down with him," the captain added, "Your pay will be discussed between the two of you."
Apparently, this ship captain had little manners to speak of because he was forced to remain on the docks rather than come up to speak with him on a more personal level. Krysto took a moment to silence himself, keeping his hands firmly cupped behind his back and brushing the small knife tucked into his uniform. If anything were to go wrong, it would offer little protection, but it would do some damage. As would the axe at his hip. But his goal was not to kill this man if he could truly avoid it.
Any aggressive actions taken would have Krysto on high alert and even higher defense. He caught the additional inflection when Lukos referred to himself in regards to Prince Achilleas, and he filed that away in the back of his mind. Whether there was something really there or not, he didn't know. Lukos was likely a man just stunned by the fact that a prince was asking his help, and willing to pay for it, at that.
"Surprising, isn't it?" Krysto offered with a wry smile. "He doesn't often outsource the work he needs done to anyone not in the royal fleets, but this... its a little more vital than running through the proper channels," Krysto noted lightly. And this was true. If they were to go through the proper steps to get this job done, things could take weeks and they didn't have weeks. Krysto understood the sense of urgency in this regard, and thus, he was here.
Trailing to the entrance to the gangplank, Krysto kept his feet on the docks but let his hands drop to his sides to observe the captain standing on the ship above him. "He will see you tomorrow, late morning into the early afternoon," Krysto instructed with practiced ease. "You two have much to discuss so make sure to leave a good padding of time to sit down with him," the captain added, "Your pay will be discussed between the two of you."
Lukos kept his jaw clamped shut as he listened, eyes narrowed in what might be taken as concentration while Krysto spoke. So this wasn’t officially sanctioned. Interesting. In his short time in the crown prince’s presence, Lukos had sensed that the man was as straightlaced as they came. Perhaps the prince even walked with a metal rod in his ass to make him stand even more erect, if that was possible. Tilting his head slowly from side to side as he thought, his eyes drifting away from the soldier and across the dock, he began to wonder exactly what he had to wear that would be fit for being in the presence of actual royalty. It was something he’d always wanted - to have the ear of a monarch. Princess Persephone was one such person, but it wasn’t as though he could reasonably go to Athenia anymore, and so she was less than useless to him for the moment. Shame.
"He will see you tomorrow, late morning into the early afternoon. You two have much to discuss so make sure to leave a good padding of time to sit down with him.”
Lukos smiled thinly. “Don’t worry about my time.” His voice was low, nearly a rumble in his chest that might be construed as a growl. “What’s the offer of payment?” There had better be one.
"Your pay will be discussed between the two of you,” Krysto said promptly.
Lukos had already decided he’d go, but he bit his lower lip, making a show of thinking it over. Shrugging one shoulder, he kept his gaze off of Krysto and back onto his ship, looking at the faces of his men who were watching this conversation with keen interest. They knew the value of such a contact. “Alright.” Lukos swung his gaze back around to Krysto. “Tell your prince that I will meet with him.” Holding up his hand to stop Krysto from being further insulting, he said, “And yes, I will be dressed to meet royalty.”
Krysto wasn’t a prince and so Lukos felt no compulsion whatsoever to be as accommodating to him as he would have been to someone of higher rank. As far as Lukos was concerned, Krysto was no higher on the totem pole than himself. That meant there was no way on this planet that he was going to bow and fawn to this man. Instead, he walked back up the gangway, still slowly, and met with Bianor who was much, much less sour than he’d previously been.
“A prince?” the old man wheezed.
“A prince,” Lukos confirmed with a grin. “Let’s get the accounts in order and then you can celebrate all you wish.”
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Lukos kept his jaw clamped shut as he listened, eyes narrowed in what might be taken as concentration while Krysto spoke. So this wasn’t officially sanctioned. Interesting. In his short time in the crown prince’s presence, Lukos had sensed that the man was as straightlaced as they came. Perhaps the prince even walked with a metal rod in his ass to make him stand even more erect, if that was possible. Tilting his head slowly from side to side as he thought, his eyes drifting away from the soldier and across the dock, he began to wonder exactly what he had to wear that would be fit for being in the presence of actual royalty. It was something he’d always wanted - to have the ear of a monarch. Princess Persephone was one such person, but it wasn’t as though he could reasonably go to Athenia anymore, and so she was less than useless to him for the moment. Shame.
"He will see you tomorrow, late morning into the early afternoon. You two have much to discuss so make sure to leave a good padding of time to sit down with him.”
Lukos smiled thinly. “Don’t worry about my time.” His voice was low, nearly a rumble in his chest that might be construed as a growl. “What’s the offer of payment?” There had better be one.
"Your pay will be discussed between the two of you,” Krysto said promptly.
Lukos had already decided he’d go, but he bit his lower lip, making a show of thinking it over. Shrugging one shoulder, he kept his gaze off of Krysto and back onto his ship, looking at the faces of his men who were watching this conversation with keen interest. They knew the value of such a contact. “Alright.” Lukos swung his gaze back around to Krysto. “Tell your prince that I will meet with him.” Holding up his hand to stop Krysto from being further insulting, he said, “And yes, I will be dressed to meet royalty.”
Krysto wasn’t a prince and so Lukos felt no compulsion whatsoever to be as accommodating to him as he would have been to someone of higher rank. As far as Lukos was concerned, Krysto was no higher on the totem pole than himself. That meant there was no way on this planet that he was going to bow and fawn to this man. Instead, he walked back up the gangway, still slowly, and met with Bianor who was much, much less sour than he’d previously been.
“A prince?” the old man wheezed.
“A prince,” Lukos confirmed with a grin. “Let’s get the accounts in order and then you can celebrate all you wish.”
Lukos kept his jaw clamped shut as he listened, eyes narrowed in what might be taken as concentration while Krysto spoke. So this wasn’t officially sanctioned. Interesting. In his short time in the crown prince’s presence, Lukos had sensed that the man was as straightlaced as they came. Perhaps the prince even walked with a metal rod in his ass to make him stand even more erect, if that was possible. Tilting his head slowly from side to side as he thought, his eyes drifting away from the soldier and across the dock, he began to wonder exactly what he had to wear that would be fit for being in the presence of actual royalty. It was something he’d always wanted - to have the ear of a monarch. Princess Persephone was one such person, but it wasn’t as though he could reasonably go to Athenia anymore, and so she was less than useless to him for the moment. Shame.
"He will see you tomorrow, late morning into the early afternoon. You two have much to discuss so make sure to leave a good padding of time to sit down with him.”
Lukos smiled thinly. “Don’t worry about my time.” His voice was low, nearly a rumble in his chest that might be construed as a growl. “What’s the offer of payment?” There had better be one.
"Your pay will be discussed between the two of you,” Krysto said promptly.
Lukos had already decided he’d go, but he bit his lower lip, making a show of thinking it over. Shrugging one shoulder, he kept his gaze off of Krysto and back onto his ship, looking at the faces of his men who were watching this conversation with keen interest. They knew the value of such a contact. “Alright.” Lukos swung his gaze back around to Krysto. “Tell your prince that I will meet with him.” Holding up his hand to stop Krysto from being further insulting, he said, “And yes, I will be dressed to meet royalty.”
Krysto wasn’t a prince and so Lukos felt no compulsion whatsoever to be as accommodating to him as he would have been to someone of higher rank. As far as Lukos was concerned, Krysto was no higher on the totem pole than himself. That meant there was no way on this planet that he was going to bow and fawn to this man. Instead, he walked back up the gangway, still slowly, and met with Bianor who was much, much less sour than he’d previously been.
“A prince?” the old man wheezed.
“A prince,” Lukos confirmed with a grin. “Let’s get the accounts in order and then you can celebrate all you wish.”
Krysto's keen eye observed every single movement that the man made. His blue gaze was piercing, unnervingly so to most, but he yielded not a single hit of emotion or irritation. His betrothed sometimes said he could be cold when he was assessing something, but there was no worry of her judging him for it now. This was business. He had few thoughts other than completing his business and making his way back to the Palati to discuss with the man in question. The prince. It was so weird to call him such a thing after so many years at his side.
He still found himself calling Achilleas 'my lord' instead of 'your highness'. It was a mild inconvennience.
Krysto visibly rolled his eyes at the pirate when the man growled something about time. He didn't care what the man felt about the order, if he wanted the deal or any sort of good compensation for his work, he would heed Krysto's words. A little whisper in the ear of his friend about a bad attitude and a tendency to be late could lose him everything. If Krysto were feeling petty, he might entertain the idea. Thus far, things were going smoothly, so he didn't even consider hanging that little carrot over the pirates head.
The offer was accepted and Krysto's job was done. As much as he wanted to bite the hand that was now feeding his prince for being such a dick, he wasn't going to. He had better control than that. It was much easier to remain in the killing calm, ready for anything and everything that might be thrown his way. He often found himself slipping into this state whenever people miscalculated thier position in respect to his own.
Having been dismissed, Krysto did not wait for the man to fully make his way back onto his ship before he had turned in his heel and headed in the direction of the Palati once more. Surely, Achilleas would be pleased that he had made such quick and efficient work of the order. Hopefully, the performance of the sailor on this job would be admirable. Maybe it would earn him some more work. Maybe it wouldn't. Who knew.
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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Krysto's keen eye observed every single movement that the man made. His blue gaze was piercing, unnervingly so to most, but he yielded not a single hit of emotion or irritation. His betrothed sometimes said he could be cold when he was assessing something, but there was no worry of her judging him for it now. This was business. He had few thoughts other than completing his business and making his way back to the Palati to discuss with the man in question. The prince. It was so weird to call him such a thing after so many years at his side.
He still found himself calling Achilleas 'my lord' instead of 'your highness'. It was a mild inconvennience.
Krysto visibly rolled his eyes at the pirate when the man growled something about time. He didn't care what the man felt about the order, if he wanted the deal or any sort of good compensation for his work, he would heed Krysto's words. A little whisper in the ear of his friend about a bad attitude and a tendency to be late could lose him everything. If Krysto were feeling petty, he might entertain the idea. Thus far, things were going smoothly, so he didn't even consider hanging that little carrot over the pirates head.
The offer was accepted and Krysto's job was done. As much as he wanted to bite the hand that was now feeding his prince for being such a dick, he wasn't going to. He had better control than that. It was much easier to remain in the killing calm, ready for anything and everything that might be thrown his way. He often found himself slipping into this state whenever people miscalculated thier position in respect to his own.
Having been dismissed, Krysto did not wait for the man to fully make his way back onto his ship before he had turned in his heel and headed in the direction of the Palati once more. Surely, Achilleas would be pleased that he had made such quick and efficient work of the order. Hopefully, the performance of the sailor on this job would be admirable. Maybe it would earn him some more work. Maybe it wouldn't. Who knew.
Krysto's keen eye observed every single movement that the man made. His blue gaze was piercing, unnervingly so to most, but he yielded not a single hit of emotion or irritation. His betrothed sometimes said he could be cold when he was assessing something, but there was no worry of her judging him for it now. This was business. He had few thoughts other than completing his business and making his way back to the Palati to discuss with the man in question. The prince. It was so weird to call him such a thing after so many years at his side.
He still found himself calling Achilleas 'my lord' instead of 'your highness'. It was a mild inconvennience.
Krysto visibly rolled his eyes at the pirate when the man growled something about time. He didn't care what the man felt about the order, if he wanted the deal or any sort of good compensation for his work, he would heed Krysto's words. A little whisper in the ear of his friend about a bad attitude and a tendency to be late could lose him everything. If Krysto were feeling petty, he might entertain the idea. Thus far, things were going smoothly, so he didn't even consider hanging that little carrot over the pirates head.
The offer was accepted and Krysto's job was done. As much as he wanted to bite the hand that was now feeding his prince for being such a dick, he wasn't going to. He had better control than that. It was much easier to remain in the killing calm, ready for anything and everything that might be thrown his way. He often found himself slipping into this state whenever people miscalculated thier position in respect to his own.
Having been dismissed, Krysto did not wait for the man to fully make his way back onto his ship before he had turned in his heel and headed in the direction of the Palati once more. Surely, Achilleas would be pleased that he had made such quick and efficient work of the order. Hopefully, the performance of the sailor on this job would be admirable. Maybe it would earn him some more work. Maybe it wouldn't. Who knew.