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The crown prince of Colchis was not one for casual relaxing or socialising. And yet he had been drawn into both that evening.
As far as he was concerned it was imperative for a commanding officer in the military to maintain some form of authority, respect - and even fear - among his men. It was necessary to promote a visage that encouraged the respect required for people to obey voluntarily - or inspire the fear that made it do them by order. The image of your commanding officer relaxing or even being mildly human, did nothing to ensure that commands were carried out in a perfunctory manner.
On top of this, Vangelis had an additional element of also being crown prince to the kingdom. Which means anything he did was placed under the double scrutiny of militant command and political image.
As such, it took a lot to convince him that it was a good idea to relax in public. On this day, it was a case of returning to Midas - that the safe return home of him and his troops was enough of a celebration to warrant an evening in a tavern in the lower levels of the city.
It was little surprise that it was Commander Philipos to present such an idea.
Convinced by him and his other most trusted advisor - who surprising had decided that a moment of freedom from the pressures of military life was worth the lack of an evening of training - Vangelis had agreed only with the promise that he would indulge in no drink or anything else that would make him sluggish come the dawn.
Donning his usual attire of shirt and riding pants with an overcoat and hood, Vangelis kept the cowl of his jacket up in place as he was encouraged down the street by Nike and Philipos, being assured all the way that a little repose was exactly what the highly-strung Blood General required.
The tavern itself was brash and noisy but even then, the patronage turned their heads at the entrance of three men of tall stature and powerful stances. Their weapons caused a moment of panic among the attendees but with them keeping their eyes down and moving to the bar without issue, most of the tavern goers went back to their drinks and peers without question. Vangelis kept his hood in place and allowed Nike to order drinks despite the look on her face when she was forced to order him water over mead.
Finding a table in the back where they could speak without interrupt or overhearing, Vangelis made for the far corner where his cowl and the shadows would keep his identity as the crown prince hidden.
When a drunkard of a man came by and almost tripped over their table's legs on his way to the door, Vangelis turned his face away and waited for the inebriated labourer to make his way awkwardly to the door and sway into a stupor out into the street.
"Remind me why we're here, again?" Vangelis asked his two compatriots.
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May 18, 2019 16:17:15 GMT
Posted In Kicking Back on May 18, 2019 16:17:15 GMT
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The crown prince of Colchis was not one for casual relaxing or socialising. And yet he had been drawn into both that evening.
As far as he was concerned it was imperative for a commanding officer in the military to maintain some form of authority, respect - and even fear - among his men. It was necessary to promote a visage that encouraged the respect required for people to obey voluntarily - or inspire the fear that made it do them by order. The image of your commanding officer relaxing or even being mildly human, did nothing to ensure that commands were carried out in a perfunctory manner.
On top of this, Vangelis had an additional element of also being crown prince to the kingdom. Which means anything he did was placed under the double scrutiny of militant command and political image.
As such, it took a lot to convince him that it was a good idea to relax in public. On this day, it was a case of returning to Midas - that the safe return home of him and his troops was enough of a celebration to warrant an evening in a tavern in the lower levels of the city.
It was little surprise that it was Commander Philipos to present such an idea.
Convinced by him and his other most trusted advisor - who surprising had decided that a moment of freedom from the pressures of military life was worth the lack of an evening of training - Vangelis had agreed only with the promise that he would indulge in no drink or anything else that would make him sluggish come the dawn.
Donning his usual attire of shirt and riding pants with an overcoat and hood, Vangelis kept the cowl of his jacket up in place as he was encouraged down the street by Nike and Philipos, being assured all the way that a little repose was exactly what the highly-strung Blood General required.
The tavern itself was brash and noisy but even then, the patronage turned their heads at the entrance of three men of tall stature and powerful stances. Their weapons caused a moment of panic among the attendees but with them keeping their eyes down and moving to the bar without issue, most of the tavern goers went back to their drinks and peers without question. Vangelis kept his hood in place and allowed Nike to order drinks despite the look on her face when she was forced to order him water over mead.
Finding a table in the back where they could speak without interrupt or overhearing, Vangelis made for the far corner where his cowl and the shadows would keep his identity as the crown prince hidden.
When a drunkard of a man came by and almost tripped over their table's legs on his way to the door, Vangelis turned his face away and waited for the inebriated labourer to make his way awkwardly to the door and sway into a stupor out into the street.
"Remind me why we're here, again?" Vangelis asked his two compatriots.
The crown prince of Colchis was not one for casual relaxing or socialising. And yet he had been drawn into both that evening.
As far as he was concerned it was imperative for a commanding officer in the military to maintain some form of authority, respect - and even fear - among his men. It was necessary to promote a visage that encouraged the respect required for people to obey voluntarily - or inspire the fear that made it do them by order. The image of your commanding officer relaxing or even being mildly human, did nothing to ensure that commands were carried out in a perfunctory manner.
On top of this, Vangelis had an additional element of also being crown prince to the kingdom. Which means anything he did was placed under the double scrutiny of militant command and political image.
As such, it took a lot to convince him that it was a good idea to relax in public. On this day, it was a case of returning to Midas - that the safe return home of him and his troops was enough of a celebration to warrant an evening in a tavern in the lower levels of the city.
It was little surprise that it was Commander Philipos to present such an idea.
Convinced by him and his other most trusted advisor - who surprising had decided that a moment of freedom from the pressures of military life was worth the lack of an evening of training - Vangelis had agreed only with the promise that he would indulge in no drink or anything else that would make him sluggish come the dawn.
Donning his usual attire of shirt and riding pants with an overcoat and hood, Vangelis kept the cowl of his jacket up in place as he was encouraged down the street by Nike and Philipos, being assured all the way that a little repose was exactly what the highly-strung Blood General required.
The tavern itself was brash and noisy but even then, the patronage turned their heads at the entrance of three men of tall stature and powerful stances. Their weapons caused a moment of panic among the attendees but with them keeping their eyes down and moving to the bar without issue, most of the tavern goers went back to their drinks and peers without question. Vangelis kept his hood in place and allowed Nike to order drinks despite the look on her face when she was forced to order him water over mead.
Finding a table in the back where they could speak without interrupt or overhearing, Vangelis made for the far corner where his cowl and the shadows would keep his identity as the crown prince hidden.
When a drunkard of a man came by and almost tripped over their table's legs on his way to the door, Vangelis turned his face away and waited for the inebriated labourer to make his way awkwardly to the door and sway into a stupor out into the street.
"Remind me why we're here, again?" Vangelis asked his two compatriots.
To be frank, Nike was also not entirely one who enjoyed casual socializing. She's of the opinion that the lesser friends she made, the lesser people she hanged out with, the lesser chance she'd have in getting caught red-handed with her secrets. Plus, if she was inebrieted, she wouldn't be as careful as she'd be, so Nike rarely - in fact, she's never actually gotten drunk in her years posing as a military male.
Yet to a certain extent, she could see and appreciate the camraderie between the men, especially to those who chose to befriend her and help her instead of begrudge her of her position, regardless of size or capability. Those, Nike happily enjoyed her time with, even laughed in recent years, as she exchanged stories and friendly skirmish of words with them. It was an odd experience, a kind she was very sure she would never be able to experience had she been raised as a female she was born.
So to a point, Nike could see the benefits in being amongst the brothers she fought with, building the rapport and friendship. At least that way, she knew her men would not betray her when it mattered, and she would not get a knife in the back when she slept in her tent.
Of course, taverns and drinks were not easily found when one was in the middle of a campaign out in the open. As such, the men of the Red Knights only ever convened over drinks in a tavern when they returned to Midas, and this was one such occasion. It amused her to watch as her friend and comrade cajoled Vangelis into drinking - Nike added her own words of encouragement sparsely as well, knowing full well her general had been working far too hard as it was. He didn't need the drink or the alcohol -he just needed a night away from work and responsibilities. Nike knew far too well how hard her general worked. Occasionally, she wished she could take those responsibilities away from him - but the woman knew it was neither her place nor her right.
So she settled for position as best friend, and merely fell in step next to him as Philippos chattered their way down the street to the tavern. In her heavy boots, leather pants and plain brown tunic, Nike had tied her short hair back in a small tuft on the top of her head, intending to crop the locks come the next morning. With a leather vest pulled over her bound chest, it was this visage that entered the tavern together with Vangelis and Philippos. The woman blinked at the bright light that illuminated the tavern, motioning at Philippos to go where Vangelis sat.
The woman herself headed to the bar top, grabbing two tankards of honeyed mead along with a glass of spiced, watered down wine, and made her way back to the table where the other two were, just in time to catch Vangelis's words as she placed the spiced wine in front of Vangelis.
"Because this one here," Nike muttered, sliding the other tankard to Philippos with a mockingly accusing stare accompanied with a grin on her lips, "Seems to be a magnet for trouble. It gets worst when he's drunk. I had to save his neck the last time." She was teasing, of course. Nike had fought side by side with Philippos one too many times to want to see her friend dead - yet at the same time the Commander could occasionally lose his senses sometimes. That was what Nike was for, the eyes behind everyone's neck.
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May 18, 2019 16:17:55 GMT
Posted In Kicking Back on May 18, 2019 16:17:55 GMT
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To be frank, Nike was also not entirely one who enjoyed casual socializing. She's of the opinion that the lesser friends she made, the lesser people she hanged out with, the lesser chance she'd have in getting caught red-handed with her secrets. Plus, if she was inebrieted, she wouldn't be as careful as she'd be, so Nike rarely - in fact, she's never actually gotten drunk in her years posing as a military male.
Yet to a certain extent, she could see and appreciate the camraderie between the men, especially to those who chose to befriend her and help her instead of begrudge her of her position, regardless of size or capability. Those, Nike happily enjoyed her time with, even laughed in recent years, as she exchanged stories and friendly skirmish of words with them. It was an odd experience, a kind she was very sure she would never be able to experience had she been raised as a female she was born.
So to a point, Nike could see the benefits in being amongst the brothers she fought with, building the rapport and friendship. At least that way, she knew her men would not betray her when it mattered, and she would not get a knife in the back when she slept in her tent.
Of course, taverns and drinks were not easily found when one was in the middle of a campaign out in the open. As such, the men of the Red Knights only ever convened over drinks in a tavern when they returned to Midas, and this was one such occasion. It amused her to watch as her friend and comrade cajoled Vangelis into drinking - Nike added her own words of encouragement sparsely as well, knowing full well her general had been working far too hard as it was. He didn't need the drink or the alcohol -he just needed a night away from work and responsibilities. Nike knew far too well how hard her general worked. Occasionally, she wished she could take those responsibilities away from him - but the woman knew it was neither her place nor her right.
So she settled for position as best friend, and merely fell in step next to him as Philippos chattered their way down the street to the tavern. In her heavy boots, leather pants and plain brown tunic, Nike had tied her short hair back in a small tuft on the top of her head, intending to crop the locks come the next morning. With a leather vest pulled over her bound chest, it was this visage that entered the tavern together with Vangelis and Philippos. The woman blinked at the bright light that illuminated the tavern, motioning at Philippos to go where Vangelis sat.
The woman herself headed to the bar top, grabbing two tankards of honeyed mead along with a glass of spiced, watered down wine, and made her way back to the table where the other two were, just in time to catch Vangelis's words as she placed the spiced wine in front of Vangelis.
"Because this one here," Nike muttered, sliding the other tankard to Philippos with a mockingly accusing stare accompanied with a grin on her lips, "Seems to be a magnet for trouble. It gets worst when he's drunk. I had to save his neck the last time." She was teasing, of course. Nike had fought side by side with Philippos one too many times to want to see her friend dead - yet at the same time the Commander could occasionally lose his senses sometimes. That was what Nike was for, the eyes behind everyone's neck.
To be frank, Nike was also not entirely one who enjoyed casual socializing. She's of the opinion that the lesser friends she made, the lesser people she hanged out with, the lesser chance she'd have in getting caught red-handed with her secrets. Plus, if she was inebrieted, she wouldn't be as careful as she'd be, so Nike rarely - in fact, she's never actually gotten drunk in her years posing as a military male.
Yet to a certain extent, she could see and appreciate the camraderie between the men, especially to those who chose to befriend her and help her instead of begrudge her of her position, regardless of size or capability. Those, Nike happily enjoyed her time with, even laughed in recent years, as she exchanged stories and friendly skirmish of words with them. It was an odd experience, a kind she was very sure she would never be able to experience had she been raised as a female she was born.
So to a point, Nike could see the benefits in being amongst the brothers she fought with, building the rapport and friendship. At least that way, she knew her men would not betray her when it mattered, and she would not get a knife in the back when she slept in her tent.
Of course, taverns and drinks were not easily found when one was in the middle of a campaign out in the open. As such, the men of the Red Knights only ever convened over drinks in a tavern when they returned to Midas, and this was one such occasion. It amused her to watch as her friend and comrade cajoled Vangelis into drinking - Nike added her own words of encouragement sparsely as well, knowing full well her general had been working far too hard as it was. He didn't need the drink or the alcohol -he just needed a night away from work and responsibilities. Nike knew far too well how hard her general worked. Occasionally, she wished she could take those responsibilities away from him - but the woman knew it was neither her place nor her right.
So she settled for position as best friend, and merely fell in step next to him as Philippos chattered their way down the street to the tavern. In her heavy boots, leather pants and plain brown tunic, Nike had tied her short hair back in a small tuft on the top of her head, intending to crop the locks come the next morning. With a leather vest pulled over her bound chest, it was this visage that entered the tavern together with Vangelis and Philippos. The woman blinked at the bright light that illuminated the tavern, motioning at Philippos to go where Vangelis sat.
The woman herself headed to the bar top, grabbing two tankards of honeyed mead along with a glass of spiced, watered down wine, and made her way back to the table where the other two were, just in time to catch Vangelis's words as she placed the spiced wine in front of Vangelis.
"Because this one here," Nike muttered, sliding the other tankard to Philippos with a mockingly accusing stare accompanied with a grin on her lips, "Seems to be a magnet for trouble. It gets worst when he's drunk. I had to save his neck the last time." She was teasing, of course. Nike had fought side by side with Philippos one too many times to want to see her friend dead - yet at the same time the Commander could occasionally lose his senses sometimes. That was what Nike was for, the eyes behind everyone's neck.
The only one of the trio that felt at home in such a ruckus was the blonde soldier who happened to be dressed down for the evening. Going out with the Crown Prince had been just what he needed and it also meant that he could wear something lighter than the telling armor he was expected most of the time. It was heavy and he hated it. Tonight, it was just a pair of riding pants looking worse for wear. He should have had them sent to be fixed, however, Philippos was just too lazy. His shirt was tilted to the side and exposed a large part of his collarbone. He looked completely disheveled. This was Phil’s way. The only left that was the telltale of a great commander was the impressively shiny long sword hanging from his waist. It screamed expensive and most certainly was the richest item he owned.
He had by some miracle of the gods convinced both Nike and Vangelis to go to one of the rowdier taverns in town. Midas was a big city, with lots to offer. Some were on the up and up where the best of the best might find themselves ordering a drink and then there was the opposite. Quite like the place they had found themselves pushing into. The volume at nearly 100 as they walked through. Philippos continued with Vangelis to the bar while Nike had branched to pick the libation of the evening. The blonde soldier was silently hoping in his mind for some ale, dark ale, if available. Course, with how he had been and the reputation he had - something less potent was probably going to be shoved into his hand so that Nike wouldn’t have to carry him home.
Pos couldn’t help the smile that cracked over his lips watching the drunk man stumble and swagger away from the table. He looked toward Vangelis, who didn’t seem to have the same amusement, but didn’t straighten at all. Once upon a time, Philippos might have hidden that side of himself to appear more serious and to get in good with the General, but not now. Now, he was free with his jokes, sarcasm, and interests when it would hit him. And the man who was wobbling together an exit from the establishment was indeed entertaining.
Attention was pulled back to the party at hand as Nike returned from the bar setting the drinks to the table top. It wasn’t as bad as he thought it might be as he pressed the tankard to his lip and invited the swig of pale liquid in. ”Oh come on. You two know that you are too serious.” He set the drink down and looked between them with a playful glare. Finally, setting his sights on Vangelis for the final comment. ”While it may be past the Prince’s bedtime, I think we could make an exception. At least once in a while.” Once a month would have been more like it, but Philippos would take it when he could get it.
”I don’t know. I think I could ‘ave taken him.” He grinned from ear to ear as he thought back to the night. Course, there were plenty of stories just like that one again and again. Philippos had a habit of running his mouth even without the aid of alcohol. So, it was obvious things only got worse when the mind-altering drink was added. Although, Philippos was the eldest of the group of men that sat around the table, he was the furthest from being the most mature. ”Not to mention, after all that work… I didn’t even get to sleep with her.” His hand slammed on the table as though he were still upset about the situation. No telling how many lasses he had bedded since that night, but that one. That woman was beautiful and not just the average whore in the tavern. She wouldn’t have been an easy catch. Just speaking of women, his eyes drifted to look over what kind of pickings were at the bar tonight. He would need help if he was going to stay focused. It was rare to stay on one topic for long with Philippos.
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The only one of the trio that felt at home in such a ruckus was the blonde soldier who happened to be dressed down for the evening. Going out with the Crown Prince had been just what he needed and it also meant that he could wear something lighter than the telling armor he was expected most of the time. It was heavy and he hated it. Tonight, it was just a pair of riding pants looking worse for wear. He should have had them sent to be fixed, however, Philippos was just too lazy. His shirt was tilted to the side and exposed a large part of his collarbone. He looked completely disheveled. This was Phil’s way. The only left that was the telltale of a great commander was the impressively shiny long sword hanging from his waist. It screamed expensive and most certainly was the richest item he owned.
He had by some miracle of the gods convinced both Nike and Vangelis to go to one of the rowdier taverns in town. Midas was a big city, with lots to offer. Some were on the up and up where the best of the best might find themselves ordering a drink and then there was the opposite. Quite like the place they had found themselves pushing into. The volume at nearly 100 as they walked through. Philippos continued with Vangelis to the bar while Nike had branched to pick the libation of the evening. The blonde soldier was silently hoping in his mind for some ale, dark ale, if available. Course, with how he had been and the reputation he had - something less potent was probably going to be shoved into his hand so that Nike wouldn’t have to carry him home.
Pos couldn’t help the smile that cracked over his lips watching the drunk man stumble and swagger away from the table. He looked toward Vangelis, who didn’t seem to have the same amusement, but didn’t straighten at all. Once upon a time, Philippos might have hidden that side of himself to appear more serious and to get in good with the General, but not now. Now, he was free with his jokes, sarcasm, and interests when it would hit him. And the man who was wobbling together an exit from the establishment was indeed entertaining.
Attention was pulled back to the party at hand as Nike returned from the bar setting the drinks to the table top. It wasn’t as bad as he thought it might be as he pressed the tankard to his lip and invited the swig of pale liquid in. ”Oh come on. You two know that you are too serious.” He set the drink down and looked between them with a playful glare. Finally, setting his sights on Vangelis for the final comment. ”While it may be past the Prince’s bedtime, I think we could make an exception. At least once in a while.” Once a month would have been more like it, but Philippos would take it when he could get it.
”I don’t know. I think I could ‘ave taken him.” He grinned from ear to ear as he thought back to the night. Course, there were plenty of stories just like that one again and again. Philippos had a habit of running his mouth even without the aid of alcohol. So, it was obvious things only got worse when the mind-altering drink was added. Although, Philippos was the eldest of the group of men that sat around the table, he was the furthest from being the most mature. ”Not to mention, after all that work… I didn’t even get to sleep with her.” His hand slammed on the table as though he were still upset about the situation. No telling how many lasses he had bedded since that night, but that one. That woman was beautiful and not just the average whore in the tavern. She wouldn’t have been an easy catch. Just speaking of women, his eyes drifted to look over what kind of pickings were at the bar tonight. He would need help if he was going to stay focused. It was rare to stay on one topic for long with Philippos.
The only one of the trio that felt at home in such a ruckus was the blonde soldier who happened to be dressed down for the evening. Going out with the Crown Prince had been just what he needed and it also meant that he could wear something lighter than the telling armor he was expected most of the time. It was heavy and he hated it. Tonight, it was just a pair of riding pants looking worse for wear. He should have had them sent to be fixed, however, Philippos was just too lazy. His shirt was tilted to the side and exposed a large part of his collarbone. He looked completely disheveled. This was Phil’s way. The only left that was the telltale of a great commander was the impressively shiny long sword hanging from his waist. It screamed expensive and most certainly was the richest item he owned.
He had by some miracle of the gods convinced both Nike and Vangelis to go to one of the rowdier taverns in town. Midas was a big city, with lots to offer. Some were on the up and up where the best of the best might find themselves ordering a drink and then there was the opposite. Quite like the place they had found themselves pushing into. The volume at nearly 100 as they walked through. Philippos continued with Vangelis to the bar while Nike had branched to pick the libation of the evening. The blonde soldier was silently hoping in his mind for some ale, dark ale, if available. Course, with how he had been and the reputation he had - something less potent was probably going to be shoved into his hand so that Nike wouldn’t have to carry him home.
Pos couldn’t help the smile that cracked over his lips watching the drunk man stumble and swagger away from the table. He looked toward Vangelis, who didn’t seem to have the same amusement, but didn’t straighten at all. Once upon a time, Philippos might have hidden that side of himself to appear more serious and to get in good with the General, but not now. Now, he was free with his jokes, sarcasm, and interests when it would hit him. And the man who was wobbling together an exit from the establishment was indeed entertaining.
Attention was pulled back to the party at hand as Nike returned from the bar setting the drinks to the table top. It wasn’t as bad as he thought it might be as he pressed the tankard to his lip and invited the swig of pale liquid in. ”Oh come on. You two know that you are too serious.” He set the drink down and looked between them with a playful glare. Finally, setting his sights on Vangelis for the final comment. ”While it may be past the Prince’s bedtime, I think we could make an exception. At least once in a while.” Once a month would have been more like it, but Philippos would take it when he could get it.
”I don’t know. I think I could ‘ave taken him.” He grinned from ear to ear as he thought back to the night. Course, there were plenty of stories just like that one again and again. Philippos had a habit of running his mouth even without the aid of alcohol. So, it was obvious things only got worse when the mind-altering drink was added. Although, Philippos was the eldest of the group of men that sat around the table, he was the furthest from being the most mature. ”Not to mention, after all that work… I didn’t even get to sleep with her.” His hand slammed on the table as though he were still upset about the situation. No telling how many lasses he had bedded since that night, but that one. That woman was beautiful and not just the average whore in the tavern. She wouldn’t have been an easy catch. Just speaking of women, his eyes drifted to look over what kind of pickings were at the bar tonight. He would need help if he was going to stay focused. It was rare to stay on one topic for long with Philippos.
Settling himself into the corner of their bay seats - two backed benches with a rectangular table between the two, Vangelis shuffled his shoulders and re-seated himself on the slant so as to hike one boot up on the bench in front of him. He preferred to be at an angle that allowed full perusal of the tavern's main common room. For avoiding conflict or issue was never a case of defending oneself from physical harm - it was about noticing when that harm might be approaching, long before it was too large a concern to be dissipated. Philippos followed him in behind the table, seating himself beside Vangelis' boot which the crown prince mildly wondered about. Did the man appreciate that he wanted to remain hidden from the general populace and had therefore put himself in the direct path of everyone else's vision? Or was this a patriotic instinct - to put himself between the heir to the throne and any potential attack?
Noticing that, across the way from their table on the opposite side of the room was a well-endowed, young serving girl whom Philippos would have had his back to had he settled on the opposite bench, Vangelis threw all his self-centred and patriotic notions regarding his Commander out the window. He should have known...
Nike, on the other hand, was of course little interested in buxom bar maids and, instead, took the bench across from the two men, handing out the drinks available. Initially annoyed that she had provided him with watered down wine as opposed to water itself, Vangelis quickly remembered that they were in the lower levels of the city and it was likely that any drink from the wells would not be as clean and pure as he was used to. The wine was therefore more appropriate.
Sipping from his cup as the two before him bantered about the last time they had been out in a social context and the male of the two had made an ogre of himself in some kind of fight or conflict that Vangelis was not aware of, it was only when a "she" was mentioned that Vangelis joined in the conversation.
"Why am I not surprised that there's a woman involved in this story?" Vangelis commented from behind his cup, his hood still up and his head resting against the wall. "Do you deliberately enjoy the challenge of taken women, Philippos or do you just have really bad instincts with regards to when one is unattached?"
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May 18, 2019 16:24:31 GMT
Posted In Kicking Back on May 18, 2019 16:24:31 GMT
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Settling himself into the corner of their bay seats - two backed benches with a rectangular table between the two, Vangelis shuffled his shoulders and re-seated himself on the slant so as to hike one boot up on the bench in front of him. He preferred to be at an angle that allowed full perusal of the tavern's main common room. For avoiding conflict or issue was never a case of defending oneself from physical harm - it was about noticing when that harm might be approaching, long before it was too large a concern to be dissipated. Philippos followed him in behind the table, seating himself beside Vangelis' boot which the crown prince mildly wondered about. Did the man appreciate that he wanted to remain hidden from the general populace and had therefore put himself in the direct path of everyone else's vision? Or was this a patriotic instinct - to put himself between the heir to the throne and any potential attack?
Noticing that, across the way from their table on the opposite side of the room was a well-endowed, young serving girl whom Philippos would have had his back to had he settled on the opposite bench, Vangelis threw all his self-centred and patriotic notions regarding his Commander out the window. He should have known...
Nike, on the other hand, was of course little interested in buxom bar maids and, instead, took the bench across from the two men, handing out the drinks available. Initially annoyed that she had provided him with watered down wine as opposed to water itself, Vangelis quickly remembered that they were in the lower levels of the city and it was likely that any drink from the wells would not be as clean and pure as he was used to. The wine was therefore more appropriate.
Sipping from his cup as the two before him bantered about the last time they had been out in a social context and the male of the two had made an ogre of himself in some kind of fight or conflict that Vangelis was not aware of, it was only when a "she" was mentioned that Vangelis joined in the conversation.
"Why am I not surprised that there's a woman involved in this story?" Vangelis commented from behind his cup, his hood still up and his head resting against the wall. "Do you deliberately enjoy the challenge of taken women, Philippos or do you just have really bad instincts with regards to when one is unattached?"
Settling himself into the corner of their bay seats - two backed benches with a rectangular table between the two, Vangelis shuffled his shoulders and re-seated himself on the slant so as to hike one boot up on the bench in front of him. He preferred to be at an angle that allowed full perusal of the tavern's main common room. For avoiding conflict or issue was never a case of defending oneself from physical harm - it was about noticing when that harm might be approaching, long before it was too large a concern to be dissipated. Philippos followed him in behind the table, seating himself beside Vangelis' boot which the crown prince mildly wondered about. Did the man appreciate that he wanted to remain hidden from the general populace and had therefore put himself in the direct path of everyone else's vision? Or was this a patriotic instinct - to put himself between the heir to the throne and any potential attack?
Noticing that, across the way from their table on the opposite side of the room was a well-endowed, young serving girl whom Philippos would have had his back to had he settled on the opposite bench, Vangelis threw all his self-centred and patriotic notions regarding his Commander out the window. He should have known...
Nike, on the other hand, was of course little interested in buxom bar maids and, instead, took the bench across from the two men, handing out the drinks available. Initially annoyed that she had provided him with watered down wine as opposed to water itself, Vangelis quickly remembered that they were in the lower levels of the city and it was likely that any drink from the wells would not be as clean and pure as he was used to. The wine was therefore more appropriate.
Sipping from his cup as the two before him bantered about the last time they had been out in a social context and the male of the two had made an ogre of himself in some kind of fight or conflict that Vangelis was not aware of, it was only when a "she" was mentioned that Vangelis joined in the conversation.
"Why am I not surprised that there's a woman involved in this story?" Vangelis commented from behind his cup, his hood still up and his head resting against the wall. "Do you deliberately enjoy the challenge of taken women, Philippos or do you just have really bad instincts with regards to when one is unattached?"
She levelled Philippos an even look of wry disbelief. Serious? Well, in a way Nike guessed her friend was right. But it was hard to attempt to loosen up when one carried a secret that could very well result in a military death sentence for her if she was ever found out. So choosing to not answer, she instead took a swig of her honeyed mead as her friend made a quip at the general, grinning when Philippos actually implied he could have taken someone down, when he was three sheets to the wind and was tottering drunk on his feet.
Rolling her eyes, Nike picked up her hand and gave Philippos a light swat on the back of his head as if reprimanding a small boy. She was wont to do that, for the woman had somehow taken the role of reprimander, friend and conscience-reminder to most of the men who was on friendly terms with her in the regiment. Often times, she would be the logical, level headed one when she joined them in taverns and pubs. Although of course, the fact that she barely gave buxom maids and lewd women a second glance would perhaps aid her in keeping a clear mind. She swore half her regiment companions were thinking with their wrong brains when they were on a break between campaigns.
"When is a woman not involved when it comes to Pos. You should have guessed, Vangelis." Nike replied with an easy laugh, her posture slowly relaxing as they dropped to easy banter. Of course, that night had not been a laughig matter when one was in the thick of the situation. With a large, towering man who could pack a punch, Nike had barely been able to get Philippos and herself out of there by the skin of their teeth. "I suspect he just simply has a death wish. Did you happen to make friends with Hades or Charon, and wish to visit them quickly, Pos?" Nike teased, shoving Philippos using her shoulder, her mocking grin on her lips, her gaze turning back to Vangelis. "He had the gall to call someone's sister a whore, to their faces. The man was twice my height - and this lug here was no help, three sheets to the wind that he was."
In hindsight, Philippos probably wasn't as drunk as he had been disorientated by their assailant's first punch, heavy fist that he had. But whatever it was, her friend's words did not help the situation at all. Granted, it was over and dusted with, a few months past by then, which was why they could all laugh about it now. But that being the case, she would throw a tankard at Philippos the next time he tried to incite a tavern brawl and she had to pick up the pieces after him.
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She levelled Philippos an even look of wry disbelief. Serious? Well, in a way Nike guessed her friend was right. But it was hard to attempt to loosen up when one carried a secret that could very well result in a military death sentence for her if she was ever found out. So choosing to not answer, she instead took a swig of her honeyed mead as her friend made a quip at the general, grinning when Philippos actually implied he could have taken someone down, when he was three sheets to the wind and was tottering drunk on his feet.
Rolling her eyes, Nike picked up her hand and gave Philippos a light swat on the back of his head as if reprimanding a small boy. She was wont to do that, for the woman had somehow taken the role of reprimander, friend and conscience-reminder to most of the men who was on friendly terms with her in the regiment. Often times, she would be the logical, level headed one when she joined them in taverns and pubs. Although of course, the fact that she barely gave buxom maids and lewd women a second glance would perhaps aid her in keeping a clear mind. She swore half her regiment companions were thinking with their wrong brains when they were on a break between campaigns.
"When is a woman not involved when it comes to Pos. You should have guessed, Vangelis." Nike replied with an easy laugh, her posture slowly relaxing as they dropped to easy banter. Of course, that night had not been a laughig matter when one was in the thick of the situation. With a large, towering man who could pack a punch, Nike had barely been able to get Philippos and herself out of there by the skin of their teeth. "I suspect he just simply has a death wish. Did you happen to make friends with Hades or Charon, and wish to visit them quickly, Pos?" Nike teased, shoving Philippos using her shoulder, her mocking grin on her lips, her gaze turning back to Vangelis. "He had the gall to call someone's sister a whore, to their faces. The man was twice my height - and this lug here was no help, three sheets to the wind that he was."
In hindsight, Philippos probably wasn't as drunk as he had been disorientated by their assailant's first punch, heavy fist that he had. But whatever it was, her friend's words did not help the situation at all. Granted, it was over and dusted with, a few months past by then, which was why they could all laugh about it now. But that being the case, she would throw a tankard at Philippos the next time he tried to incite a tavern brawl and she had to pick up the pieces after him.
She levelled Philippos an even look of wry disbelief. Serious? Well, in a way Nike guessed her friend was right. But it was hard to attempt to loosen up when one carried a secret that could very well result in a military death sentence for her if she was ever found out. So choosing to not answer, she instead took a swig of her honeyed mead as her friend made a quip at the general, grinning when Philippos actually implied he could have taken someone down, when he was three sheets to the wind and was tottering drunk on his feet.
Rolling her eyes, Nike picked up her hand and gave Philippos a light swat on the back of his head as if reprimanding a small boy. She was wont to do that, for the woman had somehow taken the role of reprimander, friend and conscience-reminder to most of the men who was on friendly terms with her in the regiment. Often times, she would be the logical, level headed one when she joined them in taverns and pubs. Although of course, the fact that she barely gave buxom maids and lewd women a second glance would perhaps aid her in keeping a clear mind. She swore half her regiment companions were thinking with their wrong brains when they were on a break between campaigns.
"When is a woman not involved when it comes to Pos. You should have guessed, Vangelis." Nike replied with an easy laugh, her posture slowly relaxing as they dropped to easy banter. Of course, that night had not been a laughig matter when one was in the thick of the situation. With a large, towering man who could pack a punch, Nike had barely been able to get Philippos and herself out of there by the skin of their teeth. "I suspect he just simply has a death wish. Did you happen to make friends with Hades or Charon, and wish to visit them quickly, Pos?" Nike teased, shoving Philippos using her shoulder, her mocking grin on her lips, her gaze turning back to Vangelis. "He had the gall to call someone's sister a whore, to their faces. The man was twice my height - and this lug here was no help, three sheets to the wind that he was."
In hindsight, Philippos probably wasn't as drunk as he had been disorientated by their assailant's first punch, heavy fist that he had. But whatever it was, her friend's words did not help the situation at all. Granted, it was over and dusted with, a few months past by then, which was why they could all laugh about it now. But that being the case, she would throw a tankard at Philippos the next time he tried to incite a tavern brawl and she had to pick up the pieces after him.
There was always a woman involved in the story if Philippos had any part in it. It was just the great saga war stories that were the exception. He shook his head with a light laugh. The pair of them both said exactly what he would have said. It was only stating the facts and Pos wasn’t at all offended by it. His brow lifted as he winked. ”Maybe Hades is already my friend and this is how I live this long.” He wagged a finger. There was something rather divine about the amount of situations Philippos found himself in and where he was now. ”Or maybe, he is afraid I would be too stiff of competition for Persephone.” Another chuff of laughter as he looked back between the two. Nike was ready to tell the story and Philippos was ready to defend himself.
It took a moment to swallow the gulp of ale down before he would be able to set the story straight adding to what Nike had already said about the situation. ”Look, she wasn’t taken this time. And the man shouldn’t have brought his sister into the tavern if she was so innocent.” His hand pressed against the table. Philippos was still very much at the point where he knew he was right in the situation and that big old brute was completely in the wrong. Those were the absolute facts. There was a lack for proper ladies when it came to a tavern. Pos knew that far too well.
”We are alive to tell the tale. And laugh about it.” He held his glass up as he gave a cheers like speech. The ale was quickly downed and over half gone already. Nike really should have gotten him like four to line up and drink one after another. He was the one of the group that would end up being carried from the bar and toted to some stable stall to sleep off the night. Even if he had higher hopes, but this was not a night for philandering. He even spoke aloud his best intentions. ”I am on my best behavior tonight. No need to save me.” He waved off Nike knowing full well he would have perhaps not made it to morning if she hadn’t arrived.
His fist morphed to a point as he held out a question. ”What is wrong with the attached? Hmmm… Most marriages are far from perfect. No one at this table has bothered, so what is it worth?” He raised the question with a furry quirked brow.
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There was always a woman involved in the story if Philippos had any part in it. It was just the great saga war stories that were the exception. He shook his head with a light laugh. The pair of them both said exactly what he would have said. It was only stating the facts and Pos wasn’t at all offended by it. His brow lifted as he winked. ”Maybe Hades is already my friend and this is how I live this long.” He wagged a finger. There was something rather divine about the amount of situations Philippos found himself in and where he was now. ”Or maybe, he is afraid I would be too stiff of competition for Persephone.” Another chuff of laughter as he looked back between the two. Nike was ready to tell the story and Philippos was ready to defend himself.
It took a moment to swallow the gulp of ale down before he would be able to set the story straight adding to what Nike had already said about the situation. ”Look, she wasn’t taken this time. And the man shouldn’t have brought his sister into the tavern if she was so innocent.” His hand pressed against the table. Philippos was still very much at the point where he knew he was right in the situation and that big old brute was completely in the wrong. Those were the absolute facts. There was a lack for proper ladies when it came to a tavern. Pos knew that far too well.
”We are alive to tell the tale. And laugh about it.” He held his glass up as he gave a cheers like speech. The ale was quickly downed and over half gone already. Nike really should have gotten him like four to line up and drink one after another. He was the one of the group that would end up being carried from the bar and toted to some stable stall to sleep off the night. Even if he had higher hopes, but this was not a night for philandering. He even spoke aloud his best intentions. ”I am on my best behavior tonight. No need to save me.” He waved off Nike knowing full well he would have perhaps not made it to morning if she hadn’t arrived.
His fist morphed to a point as he held out a question. ”What is wrong with the attached? Hmmm… Most marriages are far from perfect. No one at this table has bothered, so what is it worth?” He raised the question with a furry quirked brow.
There was always a woman involved in the story if Philippos had any part in it. It was just the great saga war stories that were the exception. He shook his head with a light laugh. The pair of them both said exactly what he would have said. It was only stating the facts and Pos wasn’t at all offended by it. His brow lifted as he winked. ”Maybe Hades is already my friend and this is how I live this long.” He wagged a finger. There was something rather divine about the amount of situations Philippos found himself in and where he was now. ”Or maybe, he is afraid I would be too stiff of competition for Persephone.” Another chuff of laughter as he looked back between the two. Nike was ready to tell the story and Philippos was ready to defend himself.
It took a moment to swallow the gulp of ale down before he would be able to set the story straight adding to what Nike had already said about the situation. ”Look, she wasn’t taken this time. And the man shouldn’t have brought his sister into the tavern if she was so innocent.” His hand pressed against the table. Philippos was still very much at the point where he knew he was right in the situation and that big old brute was completely in the wrong. Those were the absolute facts. There was a lack for proper ladies when it came to a tavern. Pos knew that far too well.
”We are alive to tell the tale. And laugh about it.” He held his glass up as he gave a cheers like speech. The ale was quickly downed and over half gone already. Nike really should have gotten him like four to line up and drink one after another. He was the one of the group that would end up being carried from the bar and toted to some stable stall to sleep off the night. Even if he had higher hopes, but this was not a night for philandering. He even spoke aloud his best intentions. ”I am on my best behavior tonight. No need to save me.” He waved off Nike knowing full well he would have perhaps not made it to morning if she hadn’t arrived.
His fist morphed to a point as he held out a question. ”What is wrong with the attached? Hmmm… Most marriages are far from perfect. No one at this table has bothered, so what is it worth?” He raised the question with a furry quirked brow.
Vangelis resisted the urge to roll his eyes. But just such an expression would give away more than the quota of emotion he was used to offering. With his small smile half masked by his cup of wine, Vangelis said nothing as Nike taunted and delivered her own rendition of events - a rendition Vangelis actually believed more than the flowery tales Philippos liked to tell - and then turned his gaze on his other Commander to watch and listen to the balancing retaliation of fact.
When the conversation was turned to each of their lack of marital status, Vangelis was even more amused given Nike's hidden gender but said nothing and resisted the urge to glance over. It had been many years since the need to make eye contact with anything such as that had receded. Such tells cost people secrets.
"Lack of effort isn't exactly the reason I have yet to marry." Vangelis at least offered into the conversation at that point. Not one to chatter, he was often the quieter of the three at the table whenever they were in close quarters together. He would just simply let the other two banter back and forth, for they seemed to enjoy it. Occasionally he liked to partake though. "And I, as foolish as you may think it is, hold our just such a perfect match." Vangelis sipped form his cup. "I just haven't met her acquaintance yet."
While his words were sentimental and a little romantic, what Vangelis meant was that his "perfect" woman would not necessarily be his soul mate and the love of his life, but would have all the markings, features and requirements of a future Queen. It was a tall order to follow and one he had yet to spend the time searching for. Despite entreaties frequently made by his mother whenever he was home from the wars...
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May 18, 2019 16:26:31 GMT
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Vangelis resisted the urge to roll his eyes. But just such an expression would give away more than the quota of emotion he was used to offering. With his small smile half masked by his cup of wine, Vangelis said nothing as Nike taunted and delivered her own rendition of events - a rendition Vangelis actually believed more than the flowery tales Philippos liked to tell - and then turned his gaze on his other Commander to watch and listen to the balancing retaliation of fact.
When the conversation was turned to each of their lack of marital status, Vangelis was even more amused given Nike's hidden gender but said nothing and resisted the urge to glance over. It had been many years since the need to make eye contact with anything such as that had receded. Such tells cost people secrets.
"Lack of effort isn't exactly the reason I have yet to marry." Vangelis at least offered into the conversation at that point. Not one to chatter, he was often the quieter of the three at the table whenever they were in close quarters together. He would just simply let the other two banter back and forth, for they seemed to enjoy it. Occasionally he liked to partake though. "And I, as foolish as you may think it is, hold our just such a perfect match." Vangelis sipped form his cup. "I just haven't met her acquaintance yet."
While his words were sentimental and a little romantic, what Vangelis meant was that his "perfect" woman would not necessarily be his soul mate and the love of his life, but would have all the markings, features and requirements of a future Queen. It was a tall order to follow and one he had yet to spend the time searching for. Despite entreaties frequently made by his mother whenever he was home from the wars...
Vangelis resisted the urge to roll his eyes. But just such an expression would give away more than the quota of emotion he was used to offering. With his small smile half masked by his cup of wine, Vangelis said nothing as Nike taunted and delivered her own rendition of events - a rendition Vangelis actually believed more than the flowery tales Philippos liked to tell - and then turned his gaze on his other Commander to watch and listen to the balancing retaliation of fact.
When the conversation was turned to each of their lack of marital status, Vangelis was even more amused given Nike's hidden gender but said nothing and resisted the urge to glance over. It had been many years since the need to make eye contact with anything such as that had receded. Such tells cost people secrets.
"Lack of effort isn't exactly the reason I have yet to marry." Vangelis at least offered into the conversation at that point. Not one to chatter, he was often the quieter of the three at the table whenever they were in close quarters together. He would just simply let the other two banter back and forth, for they seemed to enjoy it. Occasionally he liked to partake though. "And I, as foolish as you may think it is, hold our just such a perfect match." Vangelis sipped form his cup. "I just haven't met her acquaintance yet."
While his words were sentimental and a little romantic, what Vangelis meant was that his "perfect" woman would not necessarily be his soul mate and the love of his life, but would have all the markings, features and requirements of a future Queen. It was a tall order to follow and one he had yet to spend the time searching for. Despite entreaties frequently made by his mother whenever he was home from the wars...
Philippos was chugging his ale down way too quick, but that was a fact that Nike knew would happen with her friend, really. She was in no mood to drag his sorry ass home again half drunk, not after what had happened the last time when she dropped his half conscious body in his bed when he could barely recognize his front door. It was why the woman had opted to get him only one mug of ale, and was prepared to dump his third and fourth over his head if he had the inclination to get it.
Shaking her head wryly when he made it as if their survival was meant to be a celebration, Nike held off telling him he'd make a piss poor soldier if he let a lone man get the upper hand of him, and instead just begrudgingly took another gulp of her own ale.
The question of marriage and being attached made a dry chuckle bubble up Nike's mouth. She wasn't about to state the fact out loud, but she was far from marriageable by now. Perhaps there had been once, when her younger head had been filled by dreams of marriage and that perfect husband who would tend to her needs. But by now, Nike had learned far and well that she could take care of her own efforts and needs. She had far outgrown the need for flowery prose and gifts of jewelry and silk. Much more caught her eye now. Things like bravery and chivalry, loyalty and responsibility. Discipline, intellect... many more criteria that made one a sterling soldier, but perhaps not so great of a husband.
But she was brought up a soldier, and she knew what those qualities would imbue in a man.
Turning her head to face her friend and general as he spoke of his own matches, her own chest gave a little hitch. She knew he held the responsibilities and needs as a crown prince to ensure whoever his match was, would make the perfect Queen for his kingdom. Unlike many other playboy princes Nike had heard of or made acquaintences of, Vangelis was perhaps the one crown prince she's known who was eager and willing to fill his father's shoes, and made sure he fulfilled the responsibility.
Beauty, responsibility, regality... everything a queen should be. Everything she was not.
A wry smile quirked her lips, and Nike took another gulp of her ale, licking her lips of the amber liquid. "I highly doubt any of us has had the time to look for a match, at this point. We've barely been back a few weeks, Pos. Unless you've fallen in love in shorter time?" Nike quipped back with a cheeky smile, her laugh on the edges of her words.
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Philippos was chugging his ale down way too quick, but that was a fact that Nike knew would happen with her friend, really. She was in no mood to drag his sorry ass home again half drunk, not after what had happened the last time when she dropped his half conscious body in his bed when he could barely recognize his front door. It was why the woman had opted to get him only one mug of ale, and was prepared to dump his third and fourth over his head if he had the inclination to get it.
Shaking her head wryly when he made it as if their survival was meant to be a celebration, Nike held off telling him he'd make a piss poor soldier if he let a lone man get the upper hand of him, and instead just begrudgingly took another gulp of her own ale.
The question of marriage and being attached made a dry chuckle bubble up Nike's mouth. She wasn't about to state the fact out loud, but she was far from marriageable by now. Perhaps there had been once, when her younger head had been filled by dreams of marriage and that perfect husband who would tend to her needs. But by now, Nike had learned far and well that she could take care of her own efforts and needs. She had far outgrown the need for flowery prose and gifts of jewelry and silk. Much more caught her eye now. Things like bravery and chivalry, loyalty and responsibility. Discipline, intellect... many more criteria that made one a sterling soldier, but perhaps not so great of a husband.
But she was brought up a soldier, and she knew what those qualities would imbue in a man.
Turning her head to face her friend and general as he spoke of his own matches, her own chest gave a little hitch. She knew he held the responsibilities and needs as a crown prince to ensure whoever his match was, would make the perfect Queen for his kingdom. Unlike many other playboy princes Nike had heard of or made acquaintences of, Vangelis was perhaps the one crown prince she's known who was eager and willing to fill his father's shoes, and made sure he fulfilled the responsibility.
Beauty, responsibility, regality... everything a queen should be. Everything she was not.
A wry smile quirked her lips, and Nike took another gulp of her ale, licking her lips of the amber liquid. "I highly doubt any of us has had the time to look for a match, at this point. We've barely been back a few weeks, Pos. Unless you've fallen in love in shorter time?" Nike quipped back with a cheeky smile, her laugh on the edges of her words.
Philippos was chugging his ale down way too quick, but that was a fact that Nike knew would happen with her friend, really. She was in no mood to drag his sorry ass home again half drunk, not after what had happened the last time when she dropped his half conscious body in his bed when he could barely recognize his front door. It was why the woman had opted to get him only one mug of ale, and was prepared to dump his third and fourth over his head if he had the inclination to get it.
Shaking her head wryly when he made it as if their survival was meant to be a celebration, Nike held off telling him he'd make a piss poor soldier if he let a lone man get the upper hand of him, and instead just begrudgingly took another gulp of her own ale.
The question of marriage and being attached made a dry chuckle bubble up Nike's mouth. She wasn't about to state the fact out loud, but she was far from marriageable by now. Perhaps there had been once, when her younger head had been filled by dreams of marriage and that perfect husband who would tend to her needs. But by now, Nike had learned far and well that she could take care of her own efforts and needs. She had far outgrown the need for flowery prose and gifts of jewelry and silk. Much more caught her eye now. Things like bravery and chivalry, loyalty and responsibility. Discipline, intellect... many more criteria that made one a sterling soldier, but perhaps not so great of a husband.
But she was brought up a soldier, and she knew what those qualities would imbue in a man.
Turning her head to face her friend and general as he spoke of his own matches, her own chest gave a little hitch. She knew he held the responsibilities and needs as a crown prince to ensure whoever his match was, would make the perfect Queen for his kingdom. Unlike many other playboy princes Nike had heard of or made acquaintences of, Vangelis was perhaps the one crown prince she's known who was eager and willing to fill his father's shoes, and made sure he fulfilled the responsibility.
Beauty, responsibility, regality... everything a queen should be. Everything she was not.
A wry smile quirked her lips, and Nike took another gulp of her ale, licking her lips of the amber liquid. "I highly doubt any of us has had the time to look for a match, at this point. We've barely been back a few weeks, Pos. Unless you've fallen in love in shorter time?" Nike quipped back with a cheeky smile, her laugh on the edges of her words.
His face twisted in a sort of confusion with his hands rising up in the air when Vangelis made a statement that made very little sense to him. Philippos had not seen the prince courting anyone lately - course Pos had been on a separate campaign and completely missed the visit from the Taengeans. ”Oh, do tell. I find it hard to believe that you spent my time away bedding all the maidens that were missing me.” He was a tad egotistical as the laughter accompanied his words. It wasn’t like it was the first time they had heard him speak in this way. Philippos prided himself on his experience and the pleasure he could offer women.
”A perfect match.” He sighed and put his hands under his chin with a batting of eyes. Philippos did think that Vangelis was foolish, but he also knew full well that Vangelis didnt’ have a choice. He did not want to be Prince. It looked boring and he was sure that he would be terrible at it. He’d have a dozen or more bastards running around and never hear the end of it. It was much easier just to be a simple commander to impress and then leave. So, while he joked, it was just that. He admired Vangelis on many things and definitely was happy not to be in the man’s shoes.
His head shifted still atop his hands, attempting his best adorable look when Nike spoke out. ”I’ll have you know I do a very good job looking. Looking for those who would be the last to attempt to make a match.” It was the reason he had a habit for married women. They were the ones that already had a spouse and would never fall madly in love and obsess with letters of his return. While some came and went that were just that needy, Pos never wrote them back. The missives always ended up crumpled in the mud. On the other end of the spectrum of ladies for him were those who were too high and too important to be attached to him. While he was a commander, his birth was less than impressive.
Hands finally moved to press against his chest with a doubtful look. ”Me?! Love?! Not even Aphrodite herself could convince me.” Philippos found it exciting to sleep with someone new any time there was a chance. There had yet to be a woman who would challenge him in the way that kept her around more than a week. Though he rarely dabbled with ladies who were even available for the proposition of marriage. It kept things simple. The rest of his ale was downed. ”I need another, anyone else?” The tall blonde soldier stood from his spot and rounded out the table they picked in the corner. There was only a short pause to wait for his companions, though this was more his recreational activity than theirs. ”Don’t talk about me while I’m gone.” He gave a light glare as he strayed to the barkeep for his refill.
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His face twisted in a sort of confusion with his hands rising up in the air when Vangelis made a statement that made very little sense to him. Philippos had not seen the prince courting anyone lately - course Pos had been on a separate campaign and completely missed the visit from the Taengeans. ”Oh, do tell. I find it hard to believe that you spent my time away bedding all the maidens that were missing me.” He was a tad egotistical as the laughter accompanied his words. It wasn’t like it was the first time they had heard him speak in this way. Philippos prided himself on his experience and the pleasure he could offer women.
”A perfect match.” He sighed and put his hands under his chin with a batting of eyes. Philippos did think that Vangelis was foolish, but he also knew full well that Vangelis didnt’ have a choice. He did not want to be Prince. It looked boring and he was sure that he would be terrible at it. He’d have a dozen or more bastards running around and never hear the end of it. It was much easier just to be a simple commander to impress and then leave. So, while he joked, it was just that. He admired Vangelis on many things and definitely was happy not to be in the man’s shoes.
His head shifted still atop his hands, attempting his best adorable look when Nike spoke out. ”I’ll have you know I do a very good job looking. Looking for those who would be the last to attempt to make a match.” It was the reason he had a habit for married women. They were the ones that already had a spouse and would never fall madly in love and obsess with letters of his return. While some came and went that were just that needy, Pos never wrote them back. The missives always ended up crumpled in the mud. On the other end of the spectrum of ladies for him were those who were too high and too important to be attached to him. While he was a commander, his birth was less than impressive.
Hands finally moved to press against his chest with a doubtful look. ”Me?! Love?! Not even Aphrodite herself could convince me.” Philippos found it exciting to sleep with someone new any time there was a chance. There had yet to be a woman who would challenge him in the way that kept her around more than a week. Though he rarely dabbled with ladies who were even available for the proposition of marriage. It kept things simple. The rest of his ale was downed. ”I need another, anyone else?” The tall blonde soldier stood from his spot and rounded out the table they picked in the corner. There was only a short pause to wait for his companions, though this was more his recreational activity than theirs. ”Don’t talk about me while I’m gone.” He gave a light glare as he strayed to the barkeep for his refill.
His face twisted in a sort of confusion with his hands rising up in the air when Vangelis made a statement that made very little sense to him. Philippos had not seen the prince courting anyone lately - course Pos had been on a separate campaign and completely missed the visit from the Taengeans. ”Oh, do tell. I find it hard to believe that you spent my time away bedding all the maidens that were missing me.” He was a tad egotistical as the laughter accompanied his words. It wasn’t like it was the first time they had heard him speak in this way. Philippos prided himself on his experience and the pleasure he could offer women.
”A perfect match.” He sighed and put his hands under his chin with a batting of eyes. Philippos did think that Vangelis was foolish, but he also knew full well that Vangelis didnt’ have a choice. He did not want to be Prince. It looked boring and he was sure that he would be terrible at it. He’d have a dozen or more bastards running around and never hear the end of it. It was much easier just to be a simple commander to impress and then leave. So, while he joked, it was just that. He admired Vangelis on many things and definitely was happy not to be in the man’s shoes.
His head shifted still atop his hands, attempting his best adorable look when Nike spoke out. ”I’ll have you know I do a very good job looking. Looking for those who would be the last to attempt to make a match.” It was the reason he had a habit for married women. They were the ones that already had a spouse and would never fall madly in love and obsess with letters of his return. While some came and went that were just that needy, Pos never wrote them back. The missives always ended up crumpled in the mud. On the other end of the spectrum of ladies for him were those who were too high and too important to be attached to him. While he was a commander, his birth was less than impressive.
Hands finally moved to press against his chest with a doubtful look. ”Me?! Love?! Not even Aphrodite herself could convince me.” Philippos found it exciting to sleep with someone new any time there was a chance. There had yet to be a woman who would challenge him in the way that kept her around more than a week. Though he rarely dabbled with ladies who were even available for the proposition of marriage. It kept things simple. The rest of his ale was downed. ”I need another, anyone else?” The tall blonde soldier stood from his spot and rounded out the table they picked in the corner. There was only a short pause to wait for his companions, though this was more his recreational activity than theirs. ”Don’t talk about me while I’m gone.” He gave a light glare as he strayed to the barkeep for his refill.
Vangelis said nothing upon Pos' comments regarding courting any women. It was true that, while he claimed to be open to the perfect woman to be his bride - should she come along - it was unlikely such a thing would happen at this rate. He was away from home and on battlefields too much for him to come into the company of any young woman of reputable lineage and appropriate temperament. He was rarely in his own kingdoms, let alone the Court it held. Despite the love he felt for his homeland there was a physical distance he would not be shortening any time soon. Much to his mother's dismay.
Perhaps when he reached his forties he would start to settled down and actively hunt for a wife. He would still be perfectly able to complete his duties as a husband and a king by then, but his usefulness on Ares' dance floor might have waned a little to the point where he could not risk the neck of Colchis' next king by joining the fight of younger men.
When Philippos got up to replace the ale in his mug and instructed that they kept the topic of conversation away from him and his dalliances, Vangelis snorted softly, his boot twisting slightly on the bench to have his knee shift and his free hand moving to his hood to make sure it was secure in place. He glanced at Nike.
"That man will be the first of us to die." He prophesised, lifting a finger from the body of his mug to gesture after their friend. "And it won't be on a battlefield."
Taking a gulp from his cup, he shook his head to himself and then frowned for a second, a moment of curious honesty stealing his mind for a moment.
"Do you think it odd that I have yet to marry, Nike?" He asked her - not because she was a woman, but because she was his friend and he valued her opinion. "You think I should give up my military pursuits and settle down?"
His raised brow indicated that he was half joking but his gaze was serious. He was genuinely curious as to her perspective on the subject, for he had not considered it himself. He always seemed to have placed it to the back of his mind to be considered when Colchis was at peace in the North or there were no battles to be waged. A foolish notion as there were always battles to be had - whether he led them or was a part of them or not... Perhaps he had been near-sighted in that regard? Perhaps another ten years or so was too long to wait to retire from his work in the military? Even if there was no physical reason for him to hang up his armour...?
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May 18, 2019 16:27:58 GMT
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Vangelis said nothing upon Pos' comments regarding courting any women. It was true that, while he claimed to be open to the perfect woman to be his bride - should she come along - it was unlikely such a thing would happen at this rate. He was away from home and on battlefields too much for him to come into the company of any young woman of reputable lineage and appropriate temperament. He was rarely in his own kingdoms, let alone the Court it held. Despite the love he felt for his homeland there was a physical distance he would not be shortening any time soon. Much to his mother's dismay.
Perhaps when he reached his forties he would start to settled down and actively hunt for a wife. He would still be perfectly able to complete his duties as a husband and a king by then, but his usefulness on Ares' dance floor might have waned a little to the point where he could not risk the neck of Colchis' next king by joining the fight of younger men.
When Philippos got up to replace the ale in his mug and instructed that they kept the topic of conversation away from him and his dalliances, Vangelis snorted softly, his boot twisting slightly on the bench to have his knee shift and his free hand moving to his hood to make sure it was secure in place. He glanced at Nike.
"That man will be the first of us to die." He prophesised, lifting a finger from the body of his mug to gesture after their friend. "And it won't be on a battlefield."
Taking a gulp from his cup, he shook his head to himself and then frowned for a second, a moment of curious honesty stealing his mind for a moment.
"Do you think it odd that I have yet to marry, Nike?" He asked her - not because she was a woman, but because she was his friend and he valued her opinion. "You think I should give up my military pursuits and settle down?"
His raised brow indicated that he was half joking but his gaze was serious. He was genuinely curious as to her perspective on the subject, for he had not considered it himself. He always seemed to have placed it to the back of his mind to be considered when Colchis was at peace in the North or there were no battles to be waged. A foolish notion as there were always battles to be had - whether he led them or was a part of them or not... Perhaps he had been near-sighted in that regard? Perhaps another ten years or so was too long to wait to retire from his work in the military? Even if there was no physical reason for him to hang up his armour...?
Vangelis said nothing upon Pos' comments regarding courting any women. It was true that, while he claimed to be open to the perfect woman to be his bride - should she come along - it was unlikely such a thing would happen at this rate. He was away from home and on battlefields too much for him to come into the company of any young woman of reputable lineage and appropriate temperament. He was rarely in his own kingdoms, let alone the Court it held. Despite the love he felt for his homeland there was a physical distance he would not be shortening any time soon. Much to his mother's dismay.
Perhaps when he reached his forties he would start to settled down and actively hunt for a wife. He would still be perfectly able to complete his duties as a husband and a king by then, but his usefulness on Ares' dance floor might have waned a little to the point where he could not risk the neck of Colchis' next king by joining the fight of younger men.
When Philippos got up to replace the ale in his mug and instructed that they kept the topic of conversation away from him and his dalliances, Vangelis snorted softly, his boot twisting slightly on the bench to have his knee shift and his free hand moving to his hood to make sure it was secure in place. He glanced at Nike.
"That man will be the first of us to die." He prophesised, lifting a finger from the body of his mug to gesture after their friend. "And it won't be on a battlefield."
Taking a gulp from his cup, he shook his head to himself and then frowned for a second, a moment of curious honesty stealing his mind for a moment.
"Do you think it odd that I have yet to marry, Nike?" He asked her - not because she was a woman, but because she was his friend and he valued her opinion. "You think I should give up my military pursuits and settle down?"
His raised brow indicated that he was half joking but his gaze was serious. He was genuinely curious as to her perspective on the subject, for he had not considered it himself. He always seemed to have placed it to the back of his mind to be considered when Colchis was at peace in the North or there were no battles to be waged. A foolish notion as there were always battles to be had - whether he led them or was a part of them or not... Perhaps he had been near-sighted in that regard? Perhaps another ten years or so was too long to wait to retire from his work in the military? Even if there was no physical reason for him to hang up his armour...?
Nike had to bite back a laugh when Philippos insinuated that she had been bedding maidens. Oh, sometimes Nike was quite eager to just let the ones closest to her know, to watch their reaction that a woman had been the one who had been giving them a hard time in sparring fields, sometimes even besting some of them in a one-on-one fight in the training fields. Would they be shocked? Outraged? Or would they praise her and see her for the someone she had been forced to become?
It was tempting, but Nike would never do so. To do that would mean putting herself at greater risk, a risk of death that she had no wish to entertain. Vangelis was right - this was a secret between the two of them until the day came when either of their hands was pushed. Rolling her eyes as the playboy Commander left their table to search for more drinks, she scoffed at Vangelis's comment directed at his parting back. "He'll die by an angry husband, that's what he'll get." she muttered in reply, in full agreement with her general's comment. Nike's already had to save his hide from many an angry suitor or husband, she was half a mind to just throw him to the wolves the next time.
The silence that momentarily passed between the two friends was a comfortable one, one which Nike used to drain her mug, but unlike Philippos, did not seek a second one. Like Vangelis, she enjoyed keeping her wits around her.
Addressed by the one next to her, however, the face that turned to Vangelis had surprise and amusement written all over it, brows raised. For a moment, she paused, as if considering his words, before chortling. "It is not odd. Perhaps a little unorthodox - but it isn't as if you lead a very normal life, Vangelis." she pointed out, grinning at him. Her tone was very much one that had tease in it, but as she spoke her next words, it mellowed to one that was more thoughtful.
Nike doubted she would ever see the day Vangelis would settle down his military pursuits, not entirely anyway. The woman suspected that even if he one day laid his twin blades down, his mind would still work behind the scenes, much like the father he had learned from. But there would come a day that he would no longer be allowed the freedom to risk his neck on a battlefield when Colchis needed a King more then they needed a General. And she had made a promise to herself and to the Gods that she would see him to that throne.
After that... well, who knows?
From a corner of her eye, she considered his visage, the very same visage she had always kept in a part of her gaze. She would give his life for his safety, for way more then just a misplaced loyalty to the Kingdom she had eventually became a part of, for reasons far beyond just the call of duty. To think of him one-day marrying was bittersweet. Yet Nike was no fool. He was one who had more responsibility to his people, his siblings, his parents, and his kingdom, then he had a responsibility to his heart. His marriage would be one of political stability and for the benefit of his Kingdom. What was bittersweet, was that Nike hoped he would find a spot to store his heart in between his fight for responsibility. Because at the end of the day, that was not a call for her to make. Nike of Acaris had been born on the wrong side of the ocean, with all the tides against her.
For now though, just for that short, brief moment, he was still her general.
"You still have much to do. But when the day comes... the day will come. I'm assured you have the sound of mind to know when you should lay down your blades and sit your comfy tush on that throne of yours." Her tone was entirely in jest, and Nike gave a short laugh as she flashed him a wink. "Besides, we're due to sail to Taengea in a few weeks. Isn't that Kingdom rumored to have the most gorgeous of ladies? Who knows what may happen." The smile that accompanied her last words were wry, as she casted her gaze back to her empty mug, before flashing it up to ensure that Philippos was not causing too much trouble in the tavern. Knowing her friend, he would probably drain two mugs at the counter and then come back doddering on his feet - the exact situation that had landed him in trouble the few months ago.
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Nike had to bite back a laugh when Philippos insinuated that she had been bedding maidens. Oh, sometimes Nike was quite eager to just let the ones closest to her know, to watch their reaction that a woman had been the one who had been giving them a hard time in sparring fields, sometimes even besting some of them in a one-on-one fight in the training fields. Would they be shocked? Outraged? Or would they praise her and see her for the someone she had been forced to become?
It was tempting, but Nike would never do so. To do that would mean putting herself at greater risk, a risk of death that she had no wish to entertain. Vangelis was right - this was a secret between the two of them until the day came when either of their hands was pushed. Rolling her eyes as the playboy Commander left their table to search for more drinks, she scoffed at Vangelis's comment directed at his parting back. "He'll die by an angry husband, that's what he'll get." she muttered in reply, in full agreement with her general's comment. Nike's already had to save his hide from many an angry suitor or husband, she was half a mind to just throw him to the wolves the next time.
The silence that momentarily passed between the two friends was a comfortable one, one which Nike used to drain her mug, but unlike Philippos, did not seek a second one. Like Vangelis, she enjoyed keeping her wits around her.
Addressed by the one next to her, however, the face that turned to Vangelis had surprise and amusement written all over it, brows raised. For a moment, she paused, as if considering his words, before chortling. "It is not odd. Perhaps a little unorthodox - but it isn't as if you lead a very normal life, Vangelis." she pointed out, grinning at him. Her tone was very much one that had tease in it, but as she spoke her next words, it mellowed to one that was more thoughtful.
Nike doubted she would ever see the day Vangelis would settle down his military pursuits, not entirely anyway. The woman suspected that even if he one day laid his twin blades down, his mind would still work behind the scenes, much like the father he had learned from. But there would come a day that he would no longer be allowed the freedom to risk his neck on a battlefield when Colchis needed a King more then they needed a General. And she had made a promise to herself and to the Gods that she would see him to that throne.
After that... well, who knows?
From a corner of her eye, she considered his visage, the very same visage she had always kept in a part of her gaze. She would give his life for his safety, for way more then just a misplaced loyalty to the Kingdom she had eventually became a part of, for reasons far beyond just the call of duty. To think of him one-day marrying was bittersweet. Yet Nike was no fool. He was one who had more responsibility to his people, his siblings, his parents, and his kingdom, then he had a responsibility to his heart. His marriage would be one of political stability and for the benefit of his Kingdom. What was bittersweet, was that Nike hoped he would find a spot to store his heart in between his fight for responsibility. Because at the end of the day, that was not a call for her to make. Nike of Acaris had been born on the wrong side of the ocean, with all the tides against her.
For now though, just for that short, brief moment, he was still her general.
"You still have much to do. But when the day comes... the day will come. I'm assured you have the sound of mind to know when you should lay down your blades and sit your comfy tush on that throne of yours." Her tone was entirely in jest, and Nike gave a short laugh as she flashed him a wink. "Besides, we're due to sail to Taengea in a few weeks. Isn't that Kingdom rumored to have the most gorgeous of ladies? Who knows what may happen." The smile that accompanied her last words were wry, as she casted her gaze back to her empty mug, before flashing it up to ensure that Philippos was not causing too much trouble in the tavern. Knowing her friend, he would probably drain two mugs at the counter and then come back doddering on his feet - the exact situation that had landed him in trouble the few months ago.
Nike had to bite back a laugh when Philippos insinuated that she had been bedding maidens. Oh, sometimes Nike was quite eager to just let the ones closest to her know, to watch their reaction that a woman had been the one who had been giving them a hard time in sparring fields, sometimes even besting some of them in a one-on-one fight in the training fields. Would they be shocked? Outraged? Or would they praise her and see her for the someone she had been forced to become?
It was tempting, but Nike would never do so. To do that would mean putting herself at greater risk, a risk of death that she had no wish to entertain. Vangelis was right - this was a secret between the two of them until the day came when either of their hands was pushed. Rolling her eyes as the playboy Commander left their table to search for more drinks, she scoffed at Vangelis's comment directed at his parting back. "He'll die by an angry husband, that's what he'll get." she muttered in reply, in full agreement with her general's comment. Nike's already had to save his hide from many an angry suitor or husband, she was half a mind to just throw him to the wolves the next time.
The silence that momentarily passed between the two friends was a comfortable one, one which Nike used to drain her mug, but unlike Philippos, did not seek a second one. Like Vangelis, she enjoyed keeping her wits around her.
Addressed by the one next to her, however, the face that turned to Vangelis had surprise and amusement written all over it, brows raised. For a moment, she paused, as if considering his words, before chortling. "It is not odd. Perhaps a little unorthodox - but it isn't as if you lead a very normal life, Vangelis." she pointed out, grinning at him. Her tone was very much one that had tease in it, but as she spoke her next words, it mellowed to one that was more thoughtful.
Nike doubted she would ever see the day Vangelis would settle down his military pursuits, not entirely anyway. The woman suspected that even if he one day laid his twin blades down, his mind would still work behind the scenes, much like the father he had learned from. But there would come a day that he would no longer be allowed the freedom to risk his neck on a battlefield when Colchis needed a King more then they needed a General. And she had made a promise to herself and to the Gods that she would see him to that throne.
After that... well, who knows?
From a corner of her eye, she considered his visage, the very same visage she had always kept in a part of her gaze. She would give his life for his safety, for way more then just a misplaced loyalty to the Kingdom she had eventually became a part of, for reasons far beyond just the call of duty. To think of him one-day marrying was bittersweet. Yet Nike was no fool. He was one who had more responsibility to his people, his siblings, his parents, and his kingdom, then he had a responsibility to his heart. His marriage would be one of political stability and for the benefit of his Kingdom. What was bittersweet, was that Nike hoped he would find a spot to store his heart in between his fight for responsibility. Because at the end of the day, that was not a call for her to make. Nike of Acaris had been born on the wrong side of the ocean, with all the tides against her.
For now though, just for that short, brief moment, he was still her general.
"You still have much to do. But when the day comes... the day will come. I'm assured you have the sound of mind to know when you should lay down your blades and sit your comfy tush on that throne of yours." Her tone was entirely in jest, and Nike gave a short laugh as she flashed him a wink. "Besides, we're due to sail to Taengea in a few weeks. Isn't that Kingdom rumored to have the most gorgeous of ladies? Who knows what may happen." The smile that accompanied her last words were wry, as she casted her gaze back to her empty mug, before flashing it up to ensure that Philippos was not causing too much trouble in the tavern. Knowing her friend, he would probably drain two mugs at the counter and then come back doddering on his feet - the exact situation that had landed him in trouble the few months ago.
Telling them not to speak of them was likely an invitation to do just that. Philippos didn't bother giving a second look back as he had an ale on the mind. He promised to be good. Forcing their night to end prematurely because he was being selfish was the last thing he wanted to do. Vangelis was hidden in the darkness of the corner and veil of a hood for a reason. Philippos had mildly convinced himself that he wouldn't even need to woo a maiden while they were out. This was a boy's night.
A sip was taken of the refill on his way back to the table just in time to hear the last bit of what Nike said. "Taengea?" His thick brow quirked upward as he questioned the pair of them. As though they were keeping secrets from him. His spare hand pressed against his chest with a feigned hurt look on his face. "Gorgeous ladies?" As though he was hit with another sword when he plopped into the chair. "I know what should happen." He drummed his fingers against the wooden table. He knew exactly what he would do if he were released in Taengea.
However, Philippos was already slated to go back north the very next week. He was going to miss the entire trip to Taengea. He was a goof, but he was good at following orders and that was why he had only faked his hurt. He knew that he was needed to go up and take care of the men on that campaign rather than whatever kind of trip it was to another Kingdom. There was so much trouble that Pos could get into if he ever had the opportunity to go to another realm, especially one that matched his personality so well.
A large gulp of the ale was swallowed. There were much of the previous nights that he didn't repeat. However, it was like clockwork that he was giving a look over his shoulder to see if there were any less than valuable women working the tavern. They had changed the conversation to bring up beautiful Taengeans and here he was in Colchis where his options were limited, especially since he was leaving soon. "Well, I am going to go fight up North. And I know you are both jealous." There was a glint in his eye as he finished the second drink rather quickly. Nike was done. Vangelis would likely follow suit and then their fun for the evening would be done. They weren't like Pos. But, it would keep the blonde commander out of trouble.
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Telling them not to speak of them was likely an invitation to do just that. Philippos didn't bother giving a second look back as he had an ale on the mind. He promised to be good. Forcing their night to end prematurely because he was being selfish was the last thing he wanted to do. Vangelis was hidden in the darkness of the corner and veil of a hood for a reason. Philippos had mildly convinced himself that he wouldn't even need to woo a maiden while they were out. This was a boy's night.
A sip was taken of the refill on his way back to the table just in time to hear the last bit of what Nike said. "Taengea?" His thick brow quirked upward as he questioned the pair of them. As though they were keeping secrets from him. His spare hand pressed against his chest with a feigned hurt look on his face. "Gorgeous ladies?" As though he was hit with another sword when he plopped into the chair. "I know what should happen." He drummed his fingers against the wooden table. He knew exactly what he would do if he were released in Taengea.
However, Philippos was already slated to go back north the very next week. He was going to miss the entire trip to Taengea. He was a goof, but he was good at following orders and that was why he had only faked his hurt. He knew that he was needed to go up and take care of the men on that campaign rather than whatever kind of trip it was to another Kingdom. There was so much trouble that Pos could get into if he ever had the opportunity to go to another realm, especially one that matched his personality so well.
A large gulp of the ale was swallowed. There were much of the previous nights that he didn't repeat. However, it was like clockwork that he was giving a look over his shoulder to see if there were any less than valuable women working the tavern. They had changed the conversation to bring up beautiful Taengeans and here he was in Colchis where his options were limited, especially since he was leaving soon. "Well, I am going to go fight up North. And I know you are both jealous." There was a glint in his eye as he finished the second drink rather quickly. Nike was done. Vangelis would likely follow suit and then their fun for the evening would be done. They weren't like Pos. But, it would keep the blonde commander out of trouble.
Telling them not to speak of them was likely an invitation to do just that. Philippos didn't bother giving a second look back as he had an ale on the mind. He promised to be good. Forcing their night to end prematurely because he was being selfish was the last thing he wanted to do. Vangelis was hidden in the darkness of the corner and veil of a hood for a reason. Philippos had mildly convinced himself that he wouldn't even need to woo a maiden while they were out. This was a boy's night.
A sip was taken of the refill on his way back to the table just in time to hear the last bit of what Nike said. "Taengea?" His thick brow quirked upward as he questioned the pair of them. As though they were keeping secrets from him. His spare hand pressed against his chest with a feigned hurt look on his face. "Gorgeous ladies?" As though he was hit with another sword when he plopped into the chair. "I know what should happen." He drummed his fingers against the wooden table. He knew exactly what he would do if he were released in Taengea.
However, Philippos was already slated to go back north the very next week. He was going to miss the entire trip to Taengea. He was a goof, but he was good at following orders and that was why he had only faked his hurt. He knew that he was needed to go up and take care of the men on that campaign rather than whatever kind of trip it was to another Kingdom. There was so much trouble that Pos could get into if he ever had the opportunity to go to another realm, especially one that matched his personality so well.
A large gulp of the ale was swallowed. There were much of the previous nights that he didn't repeat. However, it was like clockwork that he was giving a look over his shoulder to see if there were any less than valuable women working the tavern. They had changed the conversation to bring up beautiful Taengeans and here he was in Colchis where his options were limited, especially since he was leaving soon. "Well, I am going to go fight up North. And I know you are both jealous." There was a glint in his eye as he finished the second drink rather quickly. Nike was done. Vangelis would likely follow suit and then their fun for the evening would be done. They weren't like Pos. But, it would keep the blonde commander out of trouble.
When Nike commented on it not yet being the time to settle down, get married and place "Crown Prince" at the top of his list of responsibilities, instead of it being overshadowed by "General", Vangelis offered a single raised shoulder and the twist of his lips in clear thought. He saw her logic. But at the same time, he wondered if there would ever be an end to that which he "needed to do" before he stepped back from the front lines. The lands to the north seemed to have an endless supply of men - unsurprising given that it was a land a thousand times larger than that of the Kirakles Isles... and there had been issues abroad for several years - a tension that might lead to something dangerous. Where and when was a General supposed to lay down his swords? There didn't appear to ever bed an appropriate or good time to retire from a never-ending series of battles and skirmishes.
The Queen Yanni had made an interesting observation to him upon returning home on his last trip. He had been lamenting the death of a man he had looked up to. A Captain that had been an important man to his people and a tutor to Vangelis in his youth. The man had died without family or offspring, his legacy lost and his memory retained only by those who made the effort to remember... He had been sorrowful that the man had not retired - had continued to fight until his body was so tired it had been a guarantee that he would find his death in that last battle.
His mother had made the interesting observation that no man of honour was able to step back from the battlefield without reasonable justification. That his father had done so for his crown and for his responsibilities as King; it was a reason with enough purpose behind it, for him to step back from the work of Ares with honour and pride intact. To step back in any other way was, in the minds of many fighters (whether conscious or sub-conscious), an act of disrespect to those who had fallen. The guilt of the survivor. The take that life and make something of it when others did not have the chance. When you had been saved and made a better fighter because of the experience. To then step away and leave others to battle in your place. It was not an easy notion to come by.
As the two before him continued to speak of Taengea, its women and the fact that Philippos would be taking the unit to the North while Nike performed her duties as head bodyguard to the crown prince, Vangelis was quiet, tapping the rim of his mug against his lower lip a few times before he set it aside and interrupted the conversation.
"I hope that you are both aware that you can leave whenever you want?" Vangelis spoke, his thoughts translating into words that produced looks of shock and confusion on the faces of his friends before her confirmed and explained. "The military." Vangelis confirmed. "You have each served Colchis, and me, beyond that of normal duty. You have paid your dues a thousand times over and there will never - from me, or otherwise - be any shame in you stepping back to enjoy your own lives." He told them, his tone half questioning as he wondered if they both knew such a truth. It might have seemed sentimental... but Vangelis wanted to ensure they both knew it. He did not relish having to deal with the passing of the two at this table later down the line because they never felt able to set their weapons aside and actually move forward with their lives.
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May 18, 2019 16:40:38 GMT
Posted In Kicking Back on May 18, 2019 16:40:38 GMT
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When Nike commented on it not yet being the time to settle down, get married and place "Crown Prince" at the top of his list of responsibilities, instead of it being overshadowed by "General", Vangelis offered a single raised shoulder and the twist of his lips in clear thought. He saw her logic. But at the same time, he wondered if there would ever be an end to that which he "needed to do" before he stepped back from the front lines. The lands to the north seemed to have an endless supply of men - unsurprising given that it was a land a thousand times larger than that of the Kirakles Isles... and there had been issues abroad for several years - a tension that might lead to something dangerous. Where and when was a General supposed to lay down his swords? There didn't appear to ever bed an appropriate or good time to retire from a never-ending series of battles and skirmishes.
The Queen Yanni had made an interesting observation to him upon returning home on his last trip. He had been lamenting the death of a man he had looked up to. A Captain that had been an important man to his people and a tutor to Vangelis in his youth. The man had died without family or offspring, his legacy lost and his memory retained only by those who made the effort to remember... He had been sorrowful that the man had not retired - had continued to fight until his body was so tired it had been a guarantee that he would find his death in that last battle.
His mother had made the interesting observation that no man of honour was able to step back from the battlefield without reasonable justification. That his father had done so for his crown and for his responsibilities as King; it was a reason with enough purpose behind it, for him to step back from the work of Ares with honour and pride intact. To step back in any other way was, in the minds of many fighters (whether conscious or sub-conscious), an act of disrespect to those who had fallen. The guilt of the survivor. The take that life and make something of it when others did not have the chance. When you had been saved and made a better fighter because of the experience. To then step away and leave others to battle in your place. It was not an easy notion to come by.
As the two before him continued to speak of Taengea, its women and the fact that Philippos would be taking the unit to the North while Nike performed her duties as head bodyguard to the crown prince, Vangelis was quiet, tapping the rim of his mug against his lower lip a few times before he set it aside and interrupted the conversation.
"I hope that you are both aware that you can leave whenever you want?" Vangelis spoke, his thoughts translating into words that produced looks of shock and confusion on the faces of his friends before her confirmed and explained. "The military." Vangelis confirmed. "You have each served Colchis, and me, beyond that of normal duty. You have paid your dues a thousand times over and there will never - from me, or otherwise - be any shame in you stepping back to enjoy your own lives." He told them, his tone half questioning as he wondered if they both knew such a truth. It might have seemed sentimental... but Vangelis wanted to ensure they both knew it. He did not relish having to deal with the passing of the two at this table later down the line because they never felt able to set their weapons aside and actually move forward with their lives.
When Nike commented on it not yet being the time to settle down, get married and place "Crown Prince" at the top of his list of responsibilities, instead of it being overshadowed by "General", Vangelis offered a single raised shoulder and the twist of his lips in clear thought. He saw her logic. But at the same time, he wondered if there would ever be an end to that which he "needed to do" before he stepped back from the front lines. The lands to the north seemed to have an endless supply of men - unsurprising given that it was a land a thousand times larger than that of the Kirakles Isles... and there had been issues abroad for several years - a tension that might lead to something dangerous. Where and when was a General supposed to lay down his swords? There didn't appear to ever bed an appropriate or good time to retire from a never-ending series of battles and skirmishes.
The Queen Yanni had made an interesting observation to him upon returning home on his last trip. He had been lamenting the death of a man he had looked up to. A Captain that had been an important man to his people and a tutor to Vangelis in his youth. The man had died without family or offspring, his legacy lost and his memory retained only by those who made the effort to remember... He had been sorrowful that the man had not retired - had continued to fight until his body was so tired it had been a guarantee that he would find his death in that last battle.
His mother had made the interesting observation that no man of honour was able to step back from the battlefield without reasonable justification. That his father had done so for his crown and for his responsibilities as King; it was a reason with enough purpose behind it, for him to step back from the work of Ares with honour and pride intact. To step back in any other way was, in the minds of many fighters (whether conscious or sub-conscious), an act of disrespect to those who had fallen. The guilt of the survivor. The take that life and make something of it when others did not have the chance. When you had been saved and made a better fighter because of the experience. To then step away and leave others to battle in your place. It was not an easy notion to come by.
As the two before him continued to speak of Taengea, its women and the fact that Philippos would be taking the unit to the North while Nike performed her duties as head bodyguard to the crown prince, Vangelis was quiet, tapping the rim of his mug against his lower lip a few times before he set it aside and interrupted the conversation.
"I hope that you are both aware that you can leave whenever you want?" Vangelis spoke, his thoughts translating into words that produced looks of shock and confusion on the faces of his friends before her confirmed and explained. "The military." Vangelis confirmed. "You have each served Colchis, and me, beyond that of normal duty. You have paid your dues a thousand times over and there will never - from me, or otherwise - be any shame in you stepping back to enjoy your own lives." He told them, his tone half questioning as he wondered if they both knew such a truth. It might have seemed sentimental... but Vangelis wanted to ensure they both knew it. He did not relish having to deal with the passing of the two at this table later down the line because they never felt able to set their weapons aside and actually move forward with their lives.
Trust Philippos to catch only that word in the entirety of what she had said. Hiding a chuckle as their friend returned and immediately made the connection between the kingdom and his favorite topic, and hid a groan at his not-so-subtle hint of what could be done. Of all people, Nike would be the one that was least interested in what he would do in Taengea, but considering the amount of time she had spent in the company of men and purely men, there was no prizes for guessing what, really.
"Oh so jealous, Philippos." Nike echoed, a hint of sarcasm in her tone. To be honest though, the woman would likely be happier joining him in the North. It wasn't as if she favored Taengea as much as he did. Her home Kingdom did not hold great memories for her, or much of them at all. Having left at a young age of twelve, Nike had never looked back since she came to Colchis and took the life she knew now, and neither did she want to return.
At Vangelis's sudden burst of chivalry and misplaced, Nike blinked in surprise at her general, as if trying to figure out just where this was coming from. Her wide-eyed look remained when Vangelis continued, and it wasn't till the general had fallen silent, and she had exchanged a raised brow look with Philippos, before she spoke in a slow and measured tone. "A soldier fights to protect what they love. Not for a payment or face value." she murmured in return, her smile a mix of satisfaction and pride. Soft as it were, her tone held meaning, but what meaning they held was left up to interpretation.
But in a way, Nike had come to love this rugged Kingdom which she fought to protect. She may not have been born there, but she had grown up there, and it is their tough values and way of life which she had adopted and now used to ensure that her death did not come anytime soon in the battlefield. Her life had been her career and her military army ever since she gave up her long locks, ever since that first day she had wrapped her chest and never looked back. "Shame is the least of my worries at this point." she rounded off with an amused chuckle, her eyes looking at her empty mug, although the distance in them was clear that she was thinking of anything but her drink.
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May 18, 2019 16:41:09 GMT
Posted In Kicking Back on May 18, 2019 16:41:09 GMT
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Trust Philippos to catch only that word in the entirety of what she had said. Hiding a chuckle as their friend returned and immediately made the connection between the kingdom and his favorite topic, and hid a groan at his not-so-subtle hint of what could be done. Of all people, Nike would be the one that was least interested in what he would do in Taengea, but considering the amount of time she had spent in the company of men and purely men, there was no prizes for guessing what, really.
"Oh so jealous, Philippos." Nike echoed, a hint of sarcasm in her tone. To be honest though, the woman would likely be happier joining him in the North. It wasn't as if she favored Taengea as much as he did. Her home Kingdom did not hold great memories for her, or much of them at all. Having left at a young age of twelve, Nike had never looked back since she came to Colchis and took the life she knew now, and neither did she want to return.
At Vangelis's sudden burst of chivalry and misplaced, Nike blinked in surprise at her general, as if trying to figure out just where this was coming from. Her wide-eyed look remained when Vangelis continued, and it wasn't till the general had fallen silent, and she had exchanged a raised brow look with Philippos, before she spoke in a slow and measured tone. "A soldier fights to protect what they love. Not for a payment or face value." she murmured in return, her smile a mix of satisfaction and pride. Soft as it were, her tone held meaning, but what meaning they held was left up to interpretation.
But in a way, Nike had come to love this rugged Kingdom which she fought to protect. She may not have been born there, but she had grown up there, and it is their tough values and way of life which she had adopted and now used to ensure that her death did not come anytime soon in the battlefield. Her life had been her career and her military army ever since she gave up her long locks, ever since that first day she had wrapped her chest and never looked back. "Shame is the least of my worries at this point." she rounded off with an amused chuckle, her eyes looking at her empty mug, although the distance in them was clear that she was thinking of anything but her drink.
Trust Philippos to catch only that word in the entirety of what she had said. Hiding a chuckle as their friend returned and immediately made the connection between the kingdom and his favorite topic, and hid a groan at his not-so-subtle hint of what could be done. Of all people, Nike would be the one that was least interested in what he would do in Taengea, but considering the amount of time she had spent in the company of men and purely men, there was no prizes for guessing what, really.
"Oh so jealous, Philippos." Nike echoed, a hint of sarcasm in her tone. To be honest though, the woman would likely be happier joining him in the North. It wasn't as if she favored Taengea as much as he did. Her home Kingdom did not hold great memories for her, or much of them at all. Having left at a young age of twelve, Nike had never looked back since she came to Colchis and took the life she knew now, and neither did she want to return.
At Vangelis's sudden burst of chivalry and misplaced, Nike blinked in surprise at her general, as if trying to figure out just where this was coming from. Her wide-eyed look remained when Vangelis continued, and it wasn't till the general had fallen silent, and she had exchanged a raised brow look with Philippos, before she spoke in a slow and measured tone. "A soldier fights to protect what they love. Not for a payment or face value." she murmured in return, her smile a mix of satisfaction and pride. Soft as it were, her tone held meaning, but what meaning they held was left up to interpretation.
But in a way, Nike had come to love this rugged Kingdom which she fought to protect. She may not have been born there, but she had grown up there, and it is their tough values and way of life which she had adopted and now used to ensure that her death did not come anytime soon in the battlefield. Her life had been her career and her military army ever since she gave up her long locks, ever since that first day she had wrapped her chest and never looked back. "Shame is the least of my worries at this point." she rounded off with an amused chuckle, her eyes looking at her empty mug, although the distance in them was clear that she was thinking of anything but her drink.
Leave? The look on Philippos face was promptly one as though Vangelis had spoken some sort of treason. Leaving the military had never crossed his mind. The young boy had taken up a fake stick at the ripe age of six to start fencing it around so that someday he would be good enough to fight for Colchis. It had always been his avenue away from the people he didn’t like and the family who didn’t care about their spare. Since he was speechless, Vangelis was afforded the time to elaborate on what he had said. Though, it didn’t make any of it better.
He shook his head as though the prince was speaking nonsense. It might have been a choice, but it wasn’t exactly one that Pos was interested in taking. The teasing was all it was. He felt at home when he was with his men. Most importantly, he felt important. Philippos wouldn’t have been any more than a farmer in Elimea. A boring job that offered the same tasks day in and day out. There was no challenge and there weren’t many ladies left he hadn’t slept with there - even at sixteen.
”Vang, what’s gotten into you?” He set the official titles aside as he looked at him. Hands went up in a questioning manner. ”Nike and I supposed ta find women, get married, have kids?” He laughed. ”Like I’m a paternal type.” Philippos with no good father to take after would make a terrible one. It was likely why he had jilted from that sort of responsibility. He was confident he was going to be terrible at it. It was much easier to fight the enemy and love the women around him. It was simple and it was always a new challenge to take.
”Need another, Nik?” He watched as she mentioned worries and stared into her empty cup. Philippos was oblivious to the truth. He never even suspected a thing and therefore wouldn’t know the true meaning of shame when it came to Nike’s life. ”Just one more? Then we toast to the trio.” He pointed a hand to each of them standing and ready to retrieve them each at least one last bit to end the night.
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Leave? The look on Philippos face was promptly one as though Vangelis had spoken some sort of treason. Leaving the military had never crossed his mind. The young boy had taken up a fake stick at the ripe age of six to start fencing it around so that someday he would be good enough to fight for Colchis. It had always been his avenue away from the people he didn’t like and the family who didn’t care about their spare. Since he was speechless, Vangelis was afforded the time to elaborate on what he had said. Though, it didn’t make any of it better.
He shook his head as though the prince was speaking nonsense. It might have been a choice, but it wasn’t exactly one that Pos was interested in taking. The teasing was all it was. He felt at home when he was with his men. Most importantly, he felt important. Philippos wouldn’t have been any more than a farmer in Elimea. A boring job that offered the same tasks day in and day out. There was no challenge and there weren’t many ladies left he hadn’t slept with there - even at sixteen.
”Vang, what’s gotten into you?” He set the official titles aside as he looked at him. Hands went up in a questioning manner. ”Nike and I supposed ta find women, get married, have kids?” He laughed. ”Like I’m a paternal type.” Philippos with no good father to take after would make a terrible one. It was likely why he had jilted from that sort of responsibility. He was confident he was going to be terrible at it. It was much easier to fight the enemy and love the women around him. It was simple and it was always a new challenge to take.
”Need another, Nik?” He watched as she mentioned worries and stared into her empty cup. Philippos was oblivious to the truth. He never even suspected a thing and therefore wouldn’t know the true meaning of shame when it came to Nike’s life. ”Just one more? Then we toast to the trio.” He pointed a hand to each of them standing and ready to retrieve them each at least one last bit to end the night.
Leave? The look on Philippos face was promptly one as though Vangelis had spoken some sort of treason. Leaving the military had never crossed his mind. The young boy had taken up a fake stick at the ripe age of six to start fencing it around so that someday he would be good enough to fight for Colchis. It had always been his avenue away from the people he didn’t like and the family who didn’t care about their spare. Since he was speechless, Vangelis was afforded the time to elaborate on what he had said. Though, it didn’t make any of it better.
He shook his head as though the prince was speaking nonsense. It might have been a choice, but it wasn’t exactly one that Pos was interested in taking. The teasing was all it was. He felt at home when he was with his men. Most importantly, he felt important. Philippos wouldn’t have been any more than a farmer in Elimea. A boring job that offered the same tasks day in and day out. There was no challenge and there weren’t many ladies left he hadn’t slept with there - even at sixteen.
”Vang, what’s gotten into you?” He set the official titles aside as he looked at him. Hands went up in a questioning manner. ”Nike and I supposed ta find women, get married, have kids?” He laughed. ”Like I’m a paternal type.” Philippos with no good father to take after would make a terrible one. It was likely why he had jilted from that sort of responsibility. He was confident he was going to be terrible at it. It was much easier to fight the enemy and love the women around him. It was simple and it was always a new challenge to take.
”Need another, Nik?” He watched as she mentioned worries and stared into her empty cup. Philippos was oblivious to the truth. He never even suspected a thing and therefore wouldn’t know the true meaning of shame when it came to Nike’s life. ”Just one more? Then we toast to the trio.” He pointed a hand to each of them standing and ready to retrieve them each at least one last bit to end the night.
