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It had been three days since he had received word that his request for an audience with Tythra of Drakos would be allowed, a remarkably short waiting period given how often these occasions took weeks in advance to be organized and scheduled in a proper fashion. Then again, his request had carried an imperative weight to its tone that suggested it was a necessary and essential meeting. Just seven nights past Colchis had been imparted the news that battle was just on the horizon, and that the drums of war would be banged furiously once more. Still, though this had not been the first time he had been instructed to help raise the armies of the Land of War and Honor, there was a vicious pit in his stomach, one that he could not ignore nor cast aside for as much as he slept, ate or rested.
This war did not feel right. The plans drawn up in Eubocris sat poorly with him, and he was less-than-satisfied with the whole situation as it was. The better part of wisdom told him that this was not to be a war to seek glory or golden laurels, but one to protect those of the homeland. The whole thing upset him, how others less experienced than him had been so callous in their strategies and tactics. To deploy those ships on those golden sands, desperate and crass, well it was less of a show of cunning and more a sign of desperation and, above all, inherent weakness. He feared for his people, for his countrymen and his compatriots. Egypt was not an enemy that could be just be moved to bend the kneel with merely the might of the sword and the weight of the spear. She was an old country, proud and fierce in her own way, barbarous and crude as it were, and the Pharoah that led them was, in all regards, an expert in the art of blood and carnage.
Then, there was his natural skepticism and cynical view of the whole thing. Yes, Taengea had answered the call for their own selfish war and courted Colchis for their own troubles by the terms and conditions of that ghastly treaty, deluded and misguided as it was. Yet, as it were word had not broke about Athenia's presence. Last time he had marched on the sands of the South, Greece had stood as one against the forces of Egypt. Alas, there had been few reports and words that reached his desk, and little had been said about the answer of General Lacides and the vast armies of his own motherland. Taengea might have lavished the deepest reserves of coins, and Colchis stood preeminent amongst its neighbors when it came to the most noble art of battle, but they meant nothing if the vast armies of their Sister kingdom did not rally their support and joined together. It was ludicrous to wage war without the complete confirmation of the three realms. And he could feel it. He could feel the changing winds and the poor shadows of oddness looming close to his chest, gripping his heart and twisting its strings to contortion.
Alas...
Matters of sycophantic pride, falsely invested heroism and unfounded honor guided the hearts and minds of the men of the fiery land of metals and stones, not logic or reason. Damned be the feeble egotism of the narcissistic Kotas and their misguided puppets! What matter was it that the realm had to drag its armies to form fast and quick over the madness of some ridiculous treaty that had been long for amending and re-negotiating. He had tried to guide his countrymen though cunning and prudence, but those mud-witted Bears and their toady cronies always pushed aside matters of wisdom and foresight away their insolent honor. He had tried to reason, to advice and give sage counsel, but stubbornness and unfounded, baseless entitlement fogged such words of effectiveness. Accursed be the names of those tyrants, those ruinous, motley-minded, miscreants, that put their own vanity over that of the well-being of the homeland. He would not spare easy forgiveness over the sight of a single soldier losing his life for the apathy of those bloody tyrants.
Yet, resistance at this time and hour would be poorly-construed and false in its pursuits. Patience would be his tool for now, and time would be the keeper of his ambitions. He had to act quickly and resourcefully if he wanted things to be put to proper fashion in the right way. He was not one to doubt the will of the Gods, but in his experience, they oftentimes favored those that had been most prepared. Arrangements of utmost importance had to be made, and resolutions that required both discretion and subtlety were carried out in accordance to the judgement that Damocles had gained by virtue of experience and more than a decade of shrewd leadership in both official and unofficial capacities amongst the senior commanders of the Drakos provinces.
It was in this spirited of calculated preparedness that he had written to the Lady of the Dynasteia, putting fanciful words of faux, sycophancy, but perceived loyalty unto the finely pounced parchment before setting his round-handed style of writing against the surface with ink and expressed commitment to the cause of war. He had been concise, but eloquent in his words, expressing his reasoning for demanding an audience with that woman, that detestable woman that always so demanded the pomp and circumstance of one that barely deserved but the grim and filth of dirt against his features, or so he thought.
Oh, he had used all the right words, and all the right gestures in the past, and simpered and bowed and bent the knee as far as was expected of an apparently loyal bannerman of years built and proven. Three decades on this earth had taught him much in the ways of masks and illusions, on the means to put on the most attuned charade that others could barely hope. At first, in his earliest days of successful schemes, it had been hard, laborious work, one that had demanded much fine-tuning and careful obfuscation of the self and his own worst instincts. Now however, he was a master of deception, and was was quick and reliable in his apparent chivalry and gallantry, superficially respectful of all the minutia of Court and those that cared for the pretentions of their rank.
For instance, after being the main lieutenant of his predecessor, dullard and uncouth as that old, miserable fool had been, Damocles had learned that much ado came about calling that arrogant woman by nothing short of princess. The mere momentary mention of Lady, rather than Princess had apparently caused so much shame in his former and always nominal superior that he had returned to Magnemea with his tail between his legs and a face as still and pallid as frozen waters on a cold winter's day. He had to admit, that the sight of his former commander be so thoroughly humiliated over his many, multiple blunders, gaffes and mistakes had made the then-relatively quiet militant smirk and grin behind the shadows of his helm and the convincing nature of his stony exterior. In another instance, he recalled how his official predecessor had once raised his voice in the presence of that vile woman. Honestly, it even embarrassedhim to be around such a man, who dared to elevate the sound of his own insignificance against one of those aristocrats. No, such matters would simply not do, not then, and most certainly not now.
When met with one who's only claim to superiority was built on foundations of claimed bloodlines and perceived heraldy, one had not to make public the fact that one was of such common, baseborn origins in both demeanor and appearance. Such tone of words was unceremoniously aggressive and of poor character, and had oftentimes resulted in little result and even less elegance. No, one had to be of a calm demeanor and an adaptable, agreeable character, if only on a veiled level. Likewise, in matters of convenience and social interaction, one had to be secondary to the gaudiness of those that had done little to earn their place but had so much through their fingers as power and cornerstone. For those climbing to the top, there could never be respite, yes, of course, that is true and should always be of a clear disposition, but never should one make the fatal error of allowing passions to trump over the facades and pulled strings of perceived faithfulness.
Granted, Damocles had not been the best in following such advice, primarily whence the time sprung when he was pressed and forced to interract with one specific Royal in mind in the form of his erroneously appointed General, and experience had taught him that in those instances of aggression, his calculations had failed him. Yet this is why patience and endurance were necessary traits for those that wished to grow forward and move onwards and upwards. He had suffered his losses for the last time, and he would not repeat the mistakes of the past in the presence of one whose' favor and esteem he had so carefully tendered to for years upon years.
Hence, why his armor for the day had been bright orichalchum not dark hepatizon, for there was little cause to wear that which he used for battle when he was only to cause a good impression on this day. Why the emblem on his suit had borne the emblem of Drakos, and none of any other. Why he had taken a bath to cleanse himself of the stench of iron and blood in favor of a more pleasant, agreeable air of respectful amity. Why his walk had been languid and careful, always done with confidence, not pomposity. Why he had trimmed the hairs of his beard and groomed himself so as to appear the suitable man before the supposed regal woman. Why he had learned how to listen and wait for others to speak before him when it was matters of importance and care. These details might very well would have been seen as trivial and insignificant for some, of which Damocles shared such natural inclination towards agreeing, but Court had taught him the value of appearances and images. Nor would he snarl, or scowl or growl or gutter in the presence of the woman, undeserving of such honors as she was. For that was the greatest lesson for those rising to the top, for those few, brave and bold that dared to challenge the morose conventions of the day: a true predator never bares it teeth to its prey until it is too late.
And so he walked, striding along the hallways of that palatial manse with steps of dignity and gravity of one that could count on nothing short of an enviably impressive record in the military like his. His posture was straightened and poised, with his shoulders pushed back and his head elevated just in that difficult position that stood between arrogance and submissiveness, the perfect angle that even some who bore the title of nobility had not perhaps fully learned to evoke in their lifetimes. He did not rush, or dart across the fine marbled floors, for that would have denoted urgency and naivete. There was no need to be of such demeanor today, even in the face of the Head of a Dynasteia. He was graceful, refined and elegant in his gestures, and projected himself with the levelheaded confidence of one that knew exactly what it was that he was doing that day. Naturally, his charismatic presence commanded an air of authority that came with the reputation of his name as a military veteran and respected hero of war, as was seen by the respect shown by the guards and soldiers that escorted him to the chamber where he would have his audience with Tythra. Perhaps, to an outsider that knew nothing of Colchis, his appearance would have caused some to brand him as one possessing noble blood, for that had been the disguise that he currently summoned. Alas, this was not the case, despite the gravity he exercised….yet.
In time, he came upon a bold, grand door, fit for receptions and discourse, no doubt leading to the room that the Lady of the House had chosen fit for this audience. With a nod of his head, Damocles gave assurance that he was ready to enter into that den of horrid ghastliness, but waited until it was properly opened so as to not give away the false impression that he was an amateur at interactions like these. Expectedly, an attending slave gave voice to the presence of the woman, hailing her and her many titles and positions before doing the same to the man in armor. As before, he moved with the refinement of a highborn, but did not forgive his lowborn origins between the languorous steps that echoed across the room. Once in place, the Silver-eyed man bent the kneel to the lady as he had done many times before whence in her presence. His head bent lowered, gently and in apparent reverence. In these affairs it was only by the expressed word of the royal that he was allowed to raise his head and prop himself up from his knelt figure.
“Good and Dignified Princess Tythra of Dynasteia Drakos, I, Sir Damocles of Magnemea, humble servant and loyal Captain of your Armed Forces, hail you today. Before Her Highness's presence I come to discuss matters of importance and weight concerning said forces under your Most Royal and Honorable House…” he announced as was part of the protocol for these situations. His voice was the usual deep, attention-demanding baritone that had oftentimes caused men to shiver in their boots as he barked orders and instructions. Yet, it was not harsh nor stressful, but was orotund, polished and authoritative, denoting a lack of nervousness that had marked his interactions with the upper echelons of the aristocracy before.
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It had been three days since he had received word that his request for an audience with Tythra of Drakos would be allowed, a remarkably short waiting period given how often these occasions took weeks in advance to be organized and scheduled in a proper fashion. Then again, his request had carried an imperative weight to its tone that suggested it was a necessary and essential meeting. Just seven nights past Colchis had been imparted the news that battle was just on the horizon, and that the drums of war would be banged furiously once more. Still, though this had not been the first time he had been instructed to help raise the armies of the Land of War and Honor, there was a vicious pit in his stomach, one that he could not ignore nor cast aside for as much as he slept, ate or rested.
This war did not feel right. The plans drawn up in Eubocris sat poorly with him, and he was less-than-satisfied with the whole situation as it was. The better part of wisdom told him that this was not to be a war to seek glory or golden laurels, but one to protect those of the homeland. The whole thing upset him, how others less experienced than him had been so callous in their strategies and tactics. To deploy those ships on those golden sands, desperate and crass, well it was less of a show of cunning and more a sign of desperation and, above all, inherent weakness. He feared for his people, for his countrymen and his compatriots. Egypt was not an enemy that could be just be moved to bend the kneel with merely the might of the sword and the weight of the spear. She was an old country, proud and fierce in her own way, barbarous and crude as it were, and the Pharoah that led them was, in all regards, an expert in the art of blood and carnage.
Then, there was his natural skepticism and cynical view of the whole thing. Yes, Taengea had answered the call for their own selfish war and courted Colchis for their own troubles by the terms and conditions of that ghastly treaty, deluded and misguided as it was. Yet, as it were word had not broke about Athenia's presence. Last time he had marched on the sands of the South, Greece had stood as one against the forces of Egypt. Alas, there had been few reports and words that reached his desk, and little had been said about the answer of General Lacides and the vast armies of his own motherland. Taengea might have lavished the deepest reserves of coins, and Colchis stood preeminent amongst its neighbors when it came to the most noble art of battle, but they meant nothing if the vast armies of their Sister kingdom did not rally their support and joined together. It was ludicrous to wage war without the complete confirmation of the three realms. And he could feel it. He could feel the changing winds and the poor shadows of oddness looming close to his chest, gripping his heart and twisting its strings to contortion.
Alas...
Matters of sycophantic pride, falsely invested heroism and unfounded honor guided the hearts and minds of the men of the fiery land of metals and stones, not logic or reason. Damned be the feeble egotism of the narcissistic Kotas and their misguided puppets! What matter was it that the realm had to drag its armies to form fast and quick over the madness of some ridiculous treaty that had been long for amending and re-negotiating. He had tried to guide his countrymen though cunning and prudence, but those mud-witted Bears and their toady cronies always pushed aside matters of wisdom and foresight away their insolent honor. He had tried to reason, to advice and give sage counsel, but stubbornness and unfounded, baseless entitlement fogged such words of effectiveness. Accursed be the names of those tyrants, those ruinous, motley-minded, miscreants, that put their own vanity over that of the well-being of the homeland. He would not spare easy forgiveness over the sight of a single soldier losing his life for the apathy of those bloody tyrants.
Yet, resistance at this time and hour would be poorly-construed and false in its pursuits. Patience would be his tool for now, and time would be the keeper of his ambitions. He had to act quickly and resourcefully if he wanted things to be put to proper fashion in the right way. He was not one to doubt the will of the Gods, but in his experience, they oftentimes favored those that had been most prepared. Arrangements of utmost importance had to be made, and resolutions that required both discretion and subtlety were carried out in accordance to the judgement that Damocles had gained by virtue of experience and more than a decade of shrewd leadership in both official and unofficial capacities amongst the senior commanders of the Drakos provinces.
It was in this spirited of calculated preparedness that he had written to the Lady of the Dynasteia, putting fanciful words of faux, sycophancy, but perceived loyalty unto the finely pounced parchment before setting his round-handed style of writing against the surface with ink and expressed commitment to the cause of war. He had been concise, but eloquent in his words, expressing his reasoning for demanding an audience with that woman, that detestable woman that always so demanded the pomp and circumstance of one that barely deserved but the grim and filth of dirt against his features, or so he thought.
Oh, he had used all the right words, and all the right gestures in the past, and simpered and bowed and bent the knee as far as was expected of an apparently loyal bannerman of years built and proven. Three decades on this earth had taught him much in the ways of masks and illusions, on the means to put on the most attuned charade that others could barely hope. At first, in his earliest days of successful schemes, it had been hard, laborious work, one that had demanded much fine-tuning and careful obfuscation of the self and his own worst instincts. Now however, he was a master of deception, and was was quick and reliable in his apparent chivalry and gallantry, superficially respectful of all the minutia of Court and those that cared for the pretentions of their rank.
For instance, after being the main lieutenant of his predecessor, dullard and uncouth as that old, miserable fool had been, Damocles had learned that much ado came about calling that arrogant woman by nothing short of princess. The mere momentary mention of Lady, rather than Princess had apparently caused so much shame in his former and always nominal superior that he had returned to Magnemea with his tail between his legs and a face as still and pallid as frozen waters on a cold winter's day. He had to admit, that the sight of his former commander be so thoroughly humiliated over his many, multiple blunders, gaffes and mistakes had made the then-relatively quiet militant smirk and grin behind the shadows of his helm and the convincing nature of his stony exterior. In another instance, he recalled how his official predecessor had once raised his voice in the presence of that vile woman. Honestly, it even embarrassedhim to be around such a man, who dared to elevate the sound of his own insignificance against one of those aristocrats. No, such matters would simply not do, not then, and most certainly not now.
When met with one who's only claim to superiority was built on foundations of claimed bloodlines and perceived heraldy, one had not to make public the fact that one was of such common, baseborn origins in both demeanor and appearance. Such tone of words was unceremoniously aggressive and of poor character, and had oftentimes resulted in little result and even less elegance. No, one had to be of a calm demeanor and an adaptable, agreeable character, if only on a veiled level. Likewise, in matters of convenience and social interaction, one had to be secondary to the gaudiness of those that had done little to earn their place but had so much through their fingers as power and cornerstone. For those climbing to the top, there could never be respite, yes, of course, that is true and should always be of a clear disposition, but never should one make the fatal error of allowing passions to trump over the facades and pulled strings of perceived faithfulness.
Granted, Damocles had not been the best in following such advice, primarily whence the time sprung when he was pressed and forced to interract with one specific Royal in mind in the form of his erroneously appointed General, and experience had taught him that in those instances of aggression, his calculations had failed him. Yet this is why patience and endurance were necessary traits for those that wished to grow forward and move onwards and upwards. He had suffered his losses for the last time, and he would not repeat the mistakes of the past in the presence of one whose' favor and esteem he had so carefully tendered to for years upon years.
Hence, why his armor for the day had been bright orichalchum not dark hepatizon, for there was little cause to wear that which he used for battle when he was only to cause a good impression on this day. Why the emblem on his suit had borne the emblem of Drakos, and none of any other. Why he had taken a bath to cleanse himself of the stench of iron and blood in favor of a more pleasant, agreeable air of respectful amity. Why his walk had been languid and careful, always done with confidence, not pomposity. Why he had trimmed the hairs of his beard and groomed himself so as to appear the suitable man before the supposed regal woman. Why he had learned how to listen and wait for others to speak before him when it was matters of importance and care. These details might very well would have been seen as trivial and insignificant for some, of which Damocles shared such natural inclination towards agreeing, but Court had taught him the value of appearances and images. Nor would he snarl, or scowl or growl or gutter in the presence of the woman, undeserving of such honors as she was. For that was the greatest lesson for those rising to the top, for those few, brave and bold that dared to challenge the morose conventions of the day: a true predator never bares it teeth to its prey until it is too late.
And so he walked, striding along the hallways of that palatial manse with steps of dignity and gravity of one that could count on nothing short of an enviably impressive record in the military like his. His posture was straightened and poised, with his shoulders pushed back and his head elevated just in that difficult position that stood between arrogance and submissiveness, the perfect angle that even some who bore the title of nobility had not perhaps fully learned to evoke in their lifetimes. He did not rush, or dart across the fine marbled floors, for that would have denoted urgency and naivete. There was no need to be of such demeanor today, even in the face of the Head of a Dynasteia. He was graceful, refined and elegant in his gestures, and projected himself with the levelheaded confidence of one that knew exactly what it was that he was doing that day. Naturally, his charismatic presence commanded an air of authority that came with the reputation of his name as a military veteran and respected hero of war, as was seen by the respect shown by the guards and soldiers that escorted him to the chamber where he would have his audience with Tythra. Perhaps, to an outsider that knew nothing of Colchis, his appearance would have caused some to brand him as one possessing noble blood, for that had been the disguise that he currently summoned. Alas, this was not the case, despite the gravity he exercised….yet.
In time, he came upon a bold, grand door, fit for receptions and discourse, no doubt leading to the room that the Lady of the House had chosen fit for this audience. With a nod of his head, Damocles gave assurance that he was ready to enter into that den of horrid ghastliness, but waited until it was properly opened so as to not give away the false impression that he was an amateur at interactions like these. Expectedly, an attending slave gave voice to the presence of the woman, hailing her and her many titles and positions before doing the same to the man in armor. As before, he moved with the refinement of a highborn, but did not forgive his lowborn origins between the languorous steps that echoed across the room. Once in place, the Silver-eyed man bent the kneel to the lady as he had done many times before whence in her presence. His head bent lowered, gently and in apparent reverence. In these affairs it was only by the expressed word of the royal that he was allowed to raise his head and prop himself up from his knelt figure.
“Good and Dignified Princess Tythra of Dynasteia Drakos, I, Sir Damocles of Magnemea, humble servant and loyal Captain of your Armed Forces, hail you today. Before Her Highness's presence I come to discuss matters of importance and weight concerning said forces under your Most Royal and Honorable House…” he announced as was part of the protocol for these situations. His voice was the usual deep, attention-demanding baritone that had oftentimes caused men to shiver in their boots as he barked orders and instructions. Yet, it was not harsh nor stressful, but was orotund, polished and authoritative, denoting a lack of nervousness that had marked his interactions with the upper echelons of the aristocracy before.
It had been three days since he had received word that his request for an audience with Tythra of Drakos would be allowed, a remarkably short waiting period given how often these occasions took weeks in advance to be organized and scheduled in a proper fashion. Then again, his request had carried an imperative weight to its tone that suggested it was a necessary and essential meeting. Just seven nights past Colchis had been imparted the news that battle was just on the horizon, and that the drums of war would be banged furiously once more. Still, though this had not been the first time he had been instructed to help raise the armies of the Land of War and Honor, there was a vicious pit in his stomach, one that he could not ignore nor cast aside for as much as he slept, ate or rested.
This war did not feel right. The plans drawn up in Eubocris sat poorly with him, and he was less-than-satisfied with the whole situation as it was. The better part of wisdom told him that this was not to be a war to seek glory or golden laurels, but one to protect those of the homeland. The whole thing upset him, how others less experienced than him had been so callous in their strategies and tactics. To deploy those ships on those golden sands, desperate and crass, well it was less of a show of cunning and more a sign of desperation and, above all, inherent weakness. He feared for his people, for his countrymen and his compatriots. Egypt was not an enemy that could be just be moved to bend the kneel with merely the might of the sword and the weight of the spear. She was an old country, proud and fierce in her own way, barbarous and crude as it were, and the Pharoah that led them was, in all regards, an expert in the art of blood and carnage.
Then, there was his natural skepticism and cynical view of the whole thing. Yes, Taengea had answered the call for their own selfish war and courted Colchis for their own troubles by the terms and conditions of that ghastly treaty, deluded and misguided as it was. Yet, as it were word had not broke about Athenia's presence. Last time he had marched on the sands of the South, Greece had stood as one against the forces of Egypt. Alas, there had been few reports and words that reached his desk, and little had been said about the answer of General Lacides and the vast armies of his own motherland. Taengea might have lavished the deepest reserves of coins, and Colchis stood preeminent amongst its neighbors when it came to the most noble art of battle, but they meant nothing if the vast armies of their Sister kingdom did not rally their support and joined together. It was ludicrous to wage war without the complete confirmation of the three realms. And he could feel it. He could feel the changing winds and the poor shadows of oddness looming close to his chest, gripping his heart and twisting its strings to contortion.
Alas...
Matters of sycophantic pride, falsely invested heroism and unfounded honor guided the hearts and minds of the men of the fiery land of metals and stones, not logic or reason. Damned be the feeble egotism of the narcissistic Kotas and their misguided puppets! What matter was it that the realm had to drag its armies to form fast and quick over the madness of some ridiculous treaty that had been long for amending and re-negotiating. He had tried to guide his countrymen though cunning and prudence, but those mud-witted Bears and their toady cronies always pushed aside matters of wisdom and foresight away their insolent honor. He had tried to reason, to advice and give sage counsel, but stubbornness and unfounded, baseless entitlement fogged such words of effectiveness. Accursed be the names of those tyrants, those ruinous, motley-minded, miscreants, that put their own vanity over that of the well-being of the homeland. He would not spare easy forgiveness over the sight of a single soldier losing his life for the apathy of those bloody tyrants.
Yet, resistance at this time and hour would be poorly-construed and false in its pursuits. Patience would be his tool for now, and time would be the keeper of his ambitions. He had to act quickly and resourcefully if he wanted things to be put to proper fashion in the right way. He was not one to doubt the will of the Gods, but in his experience, they oftentimes favored those that had been most prepared. Arrangements of utmost importance had to be made, and resolutions that required both discretion and subtlety were carried out in accordance to the judgement that Damocles had gained by virtue of experience and more than a decade of shrewd leadership in both official and unofficial capacities amongst the senior commanders of the Drakos provinces.
It was in this spirited of calculated preparedness that he had written to the Lady of the Dynasteia, putting fanciful words of faux, sycophancy, but perceived loyalty unto the finely pounced parchment before setting his round-handed style of writing against the surface with ink and expressed commitment to the cause of war. He had been concise, but eloquent in his words, expressing his reasoning for demanding an audience with that woman, that detestable woman that always so demanded the pomp and circumstance of one that barely deserved but the grim and filth of dirt against his features, or so he thought.
Oh, he had used all the right words, and all the right gestures in the past, and simpered and bowed and bent the knee as far as was expected of an apparently loyal bannerman of years built and proven. Three decades on this earth had taught him much in the ways of masks and illusions, on the means to put on the most attuned charade that others could barely hope. At first, in his earliest days of successful schemes, it had been hard, laborious work, one that had demanded much fine-tuning and careful obfuscation of the self and his own worst instincts. Now however, he was a master of deception, and was was quick and reliable in his apparent chivalry and gallantry, superficially respectful of all the minutia of Court and those that cared for the pretentions of their rank.
For instance, after being the main lieutenant of his predecessor, dullard and uncouth as that old, miserable fool had been, Damocles had learned that much ado came about calling that arrogant woman by nothing short of princess. The mere momentary mention of Lady, rather than Princess had apparently caused so much shame in his former and always nominal superior that he had returned to Magnemea with his tail between his legs and a face as still and pallid as frozen waters on a cold winter's day. He had to admit, that the sight of his former commander be so thoroughly humiliated over his many, multiple blunders, gaffes and mistakes had made the then-relatively quiet militant smirk and grin behind the shadows of his helm and the convincing nature of his stony exterior. In another instance, he recalled how his official predecessor had once raised his voice in the presence of that vile woman. Honestly, it even embarrassedhim to be around such a man, who dared to elevate the sound of his own insignificance against one of those aristocrats. No, such matters would simply not do, not then, and most certainly not now.
When met with one who's only claim to superiority was built on foundations of claimed bloodlines and perceived heraldy, one had not to make public the fact that one was of such common, baseborn origins in both demeanor and appearance. Such tone of words was unceremoniously aggressive and of poor character, and had oftentimes resulted in little result and even less elegance. No, one had to be of a calm demeanor and an adaptable, agreeable character, if only on a veiled level. Likewise, in matters of convenience and social interaction, one had to be secondary to the gaudiness of those that had done little to earn their place but had so much through their fingers as power and cornerstone. For those climbing to the top, there could never be respite, yes, of course, that is true and should always be of a clear disposition, but never should one make the fatal error of allowing passions to trump over the facades and pulled strings of perceived faithfulness.
Granted, Damocles had not been the best in following such advice, primarily whence the time sprung when he was pressed and forced to interract with one specific Royal in mind in the form of his erroneously appointed General, and experience had taught him that in those instances of aggression, his calculations had failed him. Yet this is why patience and endurance were necessary traits for those that wished to grow forward and move onwards and upwards. He had suffered his losses for the last time, and he would not repeat the mistakes of the past in the presence of one whose' favor and esteem he had so carefully tendered to for years upon years.
Hence, why his armor for the day had been bright orichalchum not dark hepatizon, for there was little cause to wear that which he used for battle when he was only to cause a good impression on this day. Why the emblem on his suit had borne the emblem of Drakos, and none of any other. Why he had taken a bath to cleanse himself of the stench of iron and blood in favor of a more pleasant, agreeable air of respectful amity. Why his walk had been languid and careful, always done with confidence, not pomposity. Why he had trimmed the hairs of his beard and groomed himself so as to appear the suitable man before the supposed regal woman. Why he had learned how to listen and wait for others to speak before him when it was matters of importance and care. These details might very well would have been seen as trivial and insignificant for some, of which Damocles shared such natural inclination towards agreeing, but Court had taught him the value of appearances and images. Nor would he snarl, or scowl or growl or gutter in the presence of the woman, undeserving of such honors as she was. For that was the greatest lesson for those rising to the top, for those few, brave and bold that dared to challenge the morose conventions of the day: a true predator never bares it teeth to its prey until it is too late.
And so he walked, striding along the hallways of that palatial manse with steps of dignity and gravity of one that could count on nothing short of an enviably impressive record in the military like his. His posture was straightened and poised, with his shoulders pushed back and his head elevated just in that difficult position that stood between arrogance and submissiveness, the perfect angle that even some who bore the title of nobility had not perhaps fully learned to evoke in their lifetimes. He did not rush, or dart across the fine marbled floors, for that would have denoted urgency and naivete. There was no need to be of such demeanor today, even in the face of the Head of a Dynasteia. He was graceful, refined and elegant in his gestures, and projected himself with the levelheaded confidence of one that knew exactly what it was that he was doing that day. Naturally, his charismatic presence commanded an air of authority that came with the reputation of his name as a military veteran and respected hero of war, as was seen by the respect shown by the guards and soldiers that escorted him to the chamber where he would have his audience with Tythra. Perhaps, to an outsider that knew nothing of Colchis, his appearance would have caused some to brand him as one possessing noble blood, for that had been the disguise that he currently summoned. Alas, this was not the case, despite the gravity he exercised….yet.
In time, he came upon a bold, grand door, fit for receptions and discourse, no doubt leading to the room that the Lady of the House had chosen fit for this audience. With a nod of his head, Damocles gave assurance that he was ready to enter into that den of horrid ghastliness, but waited until it was properly opened so as to not give away the false impression that he was an amateur at interactions like these. Expectedly, an attending slave gave voice to the presence of the woman, hailing her and her many titles and positions before doing the same to the man in armor. As before, he moved with the refinement of a highborn, but did not forgive his lowborn origins between the languorous steps that echoed across the room. Once in place, the Silver-eyed man bent the kneel to the lady as he had done many times before whence in her presence. His head bent lowered, gently and in apparent reverence. In these affairs it was only by the expressed word of the royal that he was allowed to raise his head and prop himself up from his knelt figure.
“Good and Dignified Princess Tythra of Dynasteia Drakos, I, Sir Damocles of Magnemea, humble servant and loyal Captain of your Armed Forces, hail you today. Before Her Highness's presence I come to discuss matters of importance and weight concerning said forces under your Most Royal and Honorable House…” he announced as was part of the protocol for these situations. His voice was the usual deep, attention-demanding baritone that had oftentimes caused men to shiver in their boots as he barked orders and instructions. Yet, it was not harsh nor stressful, but was orotund, polished and authoritative, denoting a lack of nervousness that had marked his interactions with the upper echelons of the aristocracy before.
This was the second war with Egypt Tythra had gone through as Head of House. As such, she had been ready for the sheer amount of work that would come with an official declaration of war. She had prepared ahead of time, seeing the writing on the wall. She had gone through the budgets of each of her provinces and checked the coffers for emergency funds, preparing proposals to bring to the Kotas as well. Tythra was an intelligent woman and incredibly hardworking. While whisperings of nepotism ran rampant when she first sat in the Senate, over the decades they have all but faded as Tythra proved time and time again that she was not a force to be reckoned with. She was not a quiet, meek voice, but a loud, powerful one that will be heard. She could offer guidance to the younger, newer senators, and stand toe to toe with any man in that room. Tythra of Drakos was strong.
And it was this strength that got Tythra through this long day. Since the official declaration had been made, Tythra was a flurry of activity. Meeting after meeting she had, talking with different Barons, Lieutenants, and Captains of the various provinces. All-day messengers were in and out of her home, requesting audiences to discuss budgets, logistics, infrastructure. Plans to meet with the different royal Heads of Houses, even Lord Dionysious who Tythra hated so much, were made. If she had the time to think, she would wonder how the other heads were faring. Or the new Barons who never saw a war and now suddenly had to figure out the logistics of keeping everything running while most of the men of Colchis emptied out to fight a war that had no indication as to when it would end… and who would make it to the end.
“Your Highness,” Once again her servant who had been running back and forth between the entrance to her office since dawn had returned. “Captain of the Damned, Damocles of Magnemea has arrived.”
Immediately a flash of numbers ran through Tythra’s mind. It was not thoughts of his face or any past interactions. Everything was strictly business. Tythra waved her hand to allow the servant to give him entrance, going through her paperwork to find her rectified budget of Magnemea. She didn’t glance up at first at his greeting. While being polite was always important, and Tythra still expected the proper address at all time, she was also a busy woman and thus a quick but proper greeting would do the trick.
But the sheer oddity of his had her lift her eyes.
He’s a commoner. Tythra had to remind herself. But she could not help but pick apart his address. “Rise, Captain Damocles.” Tythra said evenly.
“Now speak to me about Magnemea. I will be speaking with your baron shortly to go over infrastructure plans. But I wish to hear of the security of Magnemea and your plans on how you will compensate with the abundance of men who will be leaving now that war is upon us.”
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This was the second war with Egypt Tythra had gone through as Head of House. As such, she had been ready for the sheer amount of work that would come with an official declaration of war. She had prepared ahead of time, seeing the writing on the wall. She had gone through the budgets of each of her provinces and checked the coffers for emergency funds, preparing proposals to bring to the Kotas as well. Tythra was an intelligent woman and incredibly hardworking. While whisperings of nepotism ran rampant when she first sat in the Senate, over the decades they have all but faded as Tythra proved time and time again that she was not a force to be reckoned with. She was not a quiet, meek voice, but a loud, powerful one that will be heard. She could offer guidance to the younger, newer senators, and stand toe to toe with any man in that room. Tythra of Drakos was strong.
And it was this strength that got Tythra through this long day. Since the official declaration had been made, Tythra was a flurry of activity. Meeting after meeting she had, talking with different Barons, Lieutenants, and Captains of the various provinces. All-day messengers were in and out of her home, requesting audiences to discuss budgets, logistics, infrastructure. Plans to meet with the different royal Heads of Houses, even Lord Dionysious who Tythra hated so much, were made. If she had the time to think, she would wonder how the other heads were faring. Or the new Barons who never saw a war and now suddenly had to figure out the logistics of keeping everything running while most of the men of Colchis emptied out to fight a war that had no indication as to when it would end… and who would make it to the end.
“Your Highness,” Once again her servant who had been running back and forth between the entrance to her office since dawn had returned. “Captain of the Damned, Damocles of Magnemea has arrived.”
Immediately a flash of numbers ran through Tythra’s mind. It was not thoughts of his face or any past interactions. Everything was strictly business. Tythra waved her hand to allow the servant to give him entrance, going through her paperwork to find her rectified budget of Magnemea. She didn’t glance up at first at his greeting. While being polite was always important, and Tythra still expected the proper address at all time, she was also a busy woman and thus a quick but proper greeting would do the trick.
But the sheer oddity of his had her lift her eyes.
He’s a commoner. Tythra had to remind herself. But she could not help but pick apart his address. “Rise, Captain Damocles.” Tythra said evenly.
“Now speak to me about Magnemea. I will be speaking with your baron shortly to go over infrastructure plans. But I wish to hear of the security of Magnemea and your plans on how you will compensate with the abundance of men who will be leaving now that war is upon us.”
This was the second war with Egypt Tythra had gone through as Head of House. As such, she had been ready for the sheer amount of work that would come with an official declaration of war. She had prepared ahead of time, seeing the writing on the wall. She had gone through the budgets of each of her provinces and checked the coffers for emergency funds, preparing proposals to bring to the Kotas as well. Tythra was an intelligent woman and incredibly hardworking. While whisperings of nepotism ran rampant when she first sat in the Senate, over the decades they have all but faded as Tythra proved time and time again that she was not a force to be reckoned with. She was not a quiet, meek voice, but a loud, powerful one that will be heard. She could offer guidance to the younger, newer senators, and stand toe to toe with any man in that room. Tythra of Drakos was strong.
And it was this strength that got Tythra through this long day. Since the official declaration had been made, Tythra was a flurry of activity. Meeting after meeting she had, talking with different Barons, Lieutenants, and Captains of the various provinces. All-day messengers were in and out of her home, requesting audiences to discuss budgets, logistics, infrastructure. Plans to meet with the different royal Heads of Houses, even Lord Dionysious who Tythra hated so much, were made. If she had the time to think, she would wonder how the other heads were faring. Or the new Barons who never saw a war and now suddenly had to figure out the logistics of keeping everything running while most of the men of Colchis emptied out to fight a war that had no indication as to when it would end… and who would make it to the end.
“Your Highness,” Once again her servant who had been running back and forth between the entrance to her office since dawn had returned. “Captain of the Damned, Damocles of Magnemea has arrived.”
Immediately a flash of numbers ran through Tythra’s mind. It was not thoughts of his face or any past interactions. Everything was strictly business. Tythra waved her hand to allow the servant to give him entrance, going through her paperwork to find her rectified budget of Magnemea. She didn’t glance up at first at his greeting. While being polite was always important, and Tythra still expected the proper address at all time, she was also a busy woman and thus a quick but proper greeting would do the trick.
But the sheer oddity of his had her lift her eyes.
He’s a commoner. Tythra had to remind herself. But she could not help but pick apart his address. “Rise, Captain Damocles.” Tythra said evenly.
“Now speak to me about Magnemea. I will be speaking with your baron shortly to go over infrastructure plans. But I wish to hear of the security of Magnemea and your plans on how you will compensate with the abundance of men who will be leaving now that war is upon us.”
Damocles was not often around the presence of the so-called Mother of Dragons, but that did not stop him from behaving as proud and dignified as any man above his status would. There were a myriad thoughts that swarmed in his head about the golden-haired Head of House Drakos, but he was experienced enough in courtly relations to rather let his deeply-ingrained opposition to everything that she stood for be spared for another time, away from her presence and the gaze of her scanning eyes. Thus, for now, he behaved in accordance to his position, and when asked to stand from the ground after his acknowledgement, the towering militant rose up and removed his helm, placing it at his side as a sign of respect to the apparently-superior woman.
"Yes, Your Highness," he addressed in perfect etiquette, nodding gracefully at the fierce-tongued woman as he prepared his opening remarks. "As I trust you are aware, your province of Magnemea boasts the largest and most concentrated population of slaves in Colchis. By their industry, and your leadership, House Drakos has prospered magnificently in terms of its economic resources. Nevertheless, prior to my tenure as the military leader of the barony, I fear there was a total lack of structure and organization regarding the management of the slaves inasmuch as the provincial army was concerned. It was therefore not surprising, that upon my first tour in Egypt, the slaves of Magnemea were unchecked and disobedient. Thus, in an effort to prevent a repetition of such actions, I have taken the liberty of appointing one of my own lieutenants as acting-captain of a small, but well-trained, loyal and, above all else, experienced division of soldiers, so as to maintain proper order and control within your barony's borders." explained Damocles, who had in fact instructed one of his myriad of officers to leave in charge of such a task, but not before making sure that the man he had chosen was not one that was utterly bound to his own will and desire, not the Baron and certainly not of Tythra. There was no way he was going to allow someone else to take advantage of his abscence and try and undermine his position as the puppermaster of the barony. He had worked too hard for too long to let his strings be pulled right from his fingertips.
"Moreover, I have considered negotiating with several mercenary companies of proven reputation and ample resources to aid in the protection of the barony. Their increased numbers would surely be a boon in the maintenance of the province. With over five thousand people in the island, of which about two-thirds are slaves, I believe it wise and prudent to recruit all the necessary help we can get. Many of these men that I have considered are former Colchian soldiers and fought in the war against the Egyptians alongside the main army many years ago. As such, I can vouch for their commitment and abilities, in exchange for the promise of ample coin and due payment." Continued to inform Damocles, who well-believed that this method of shoring-up the defenses of the incredibly profitable barony would please the royal woman, since doing so would mean a stronger security of her own purse and coin.
"Additionally, as a way to make-sure that the Baron and his family are safe at all times, I have doubled the guards in the baronial archontiko and seen fit to instruct tighter, more intense schedules so that the local nobles have naught to worry about in terms of their security." He explained providing Tythra with a copy of the rounds that the guards would take in order to defend the incredibly wealthy aristocrats. "As for the defense of the merchants and freed-populations, I trust that my temporary-captain's forces will be enough." he said, never forgetting about any detail concerning the defense of the province he knew just as much as the back of his hand. "Yet, as Your Highness can see, all these measures require a substantial increase in our budgetary funds, especially if you wish for me to continue forward and commission the aid of sell-swords and hired mercenaries. Of course, none of this takes into account the multiple resources that are still needed for the forces of the Damned to be full-prepared for battle." he conditioned, further giving Tythra an estimate cost sheet of just how much money the entire venture would be.
"According to the reports of my lieutenants and quartermasters, for our hoplites, which make the blunt of the provincial army's numbers, we require an additional fifty swords, forty spears and thirty shields. Likewise, in as far as our secondary archer divisions, a calculated two hundred arrows are needed. Naturally, given the giant size of this unit, these numbers are not too concerning and are, in fact, less than both the Baron and I predicted. Nevertheless, they are an additional cost that I believe must be properly considered if the men of the Damned are to fight as fiercely and decisively as we have in the past." Reaffirmed Damocles presenting the golden-haired Head of House Drakos with, yet another written account of the additional expenses that the unit would require if it was to go to war properly. If anything, Damocles was a meticulously organized man, and though his reports and accounts were plentiful, they had been methodical in their presentation.
"Princess Tythra, given all these expenses and measures, I must confess that we are underfunded. I can assure you that it is not an enormous amount of money that would be required, but still, it is such that merits attention, especially given the urgency of the time. To that end, I have consulted with my friends in the Royal Treasury, and advise that you could pass a supplemental appropriations bill before your assembly of Drakos lords for the express purpose of increasing your Dynasteia's military budget, and shift the balance of your annual budget towards a more favorable direction for the military. This action could very much raise the additional funds, without necessarily having to rely on increased taxation. Hence, it is my professional opinion that this is one of the least disruptive pathways you could take. Nevertheless, your wisdom in these affairs far exceeds mine, and so this is only that, a humble suggestion." Counseled the silver-eyed militant, using expert political language that, to most people, would be quite shocking, especially from a commoner. Of course, given his inclination towards administration and leadership abilities, this use of heavy political jargon should not have surprised the royal lady, given that, for all intents and purposes, Damocles had led one of the biggest units in Colchis with mastery and brilliance for years now. Enough had been his talents in the arts of management that he had, at one point, been considered worthy of being promoted to Commander, a prestigious appointment that sadly had been robbed from him.
"For now, these are my main findings, Princess Tythra. I have other matters that require your attention, but I believe these make up the most important and immediate ones. If you so wish, we can discuss these now and then continue with the secondary, more minor affairs of state and defense later at a later time." he finished briefing, bowing respectfully to the golden-haired woman as he carefully awaited her answer, maintaining a poise and grace that obfuscated his lower-class origins and instead made Damocles look every bit a calm and collected politician, rather than a bellicose, rowdy warrior.
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Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
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Damocles was not often around the presence of the so-called Mother of Dragons, but that did not stop him from behaving as proud and dignified as any man above his status would. There were a myriad thoughts that swarmed in his head about the golden-haired Head of House Drakos, but he was experienced enough in courtly relations to rather let his deeply-ingrained opposition to everything that she stood for be spared for another time, away from her presence and the gaze of her scanning eyes. Thus, for now, he behaved in accordance to his position, and when asked to stand from the ground after his acknowledgement, the towering militant rose up and removed his helm, placing it at his side as a sign of respect to the apparently-superior woman.
"Yes, Your Highness," he addressed in perfect etiquette, nodding gracefully at the fierce-tongued woman as he prepared his opening remarks. "As I trust you are aware, your province of Magnemea boasts the largest and most concentrated population of slaves in Colchis. By their industry, and your leadership, House Drakos has prospered magnificently in terms of its economic resources. Nevertheless, prior to my tenure as the military leader of the barony, I fear there was a total lack of structure and organization regarding the management of the slaves inasmuch as the provincial army was concerned. It was therefore not surprising, that upon my first tour in Egypt, the slaves of Magnemea were unchecked and disobedient. Thus, in an effort to prevent a repetition of such actions, I have taken the liberty of appointing one of my own lieutenants as acting-captain of a small, but well-trained, loyal and, above all else, experienced division of soldiers, so as to maintain proper order and control within your barony's borders." explained Damocles, who had in fact instructed one of his myriad of officers to leave in charge of such a task, but not before making sure that the man he had chosen was not one that was utterly bound to his own will and desire, not the Baron and certainly not of Tythra. There was no way he was going to allow someone else to take advantage of his abscence and try and undermine his position as the puppermaster of the barony. He had worked too hard for too long to let his strings be pulled right from his fingertips.
"Moreover, I have considered negotiating with several mercenary companies of proven reputation and ample resources to aid in the protection of the barony. Their increased numbers would surely be a boon in the maintenance of the province. With over five thousand people in the island, of which about two-thirds are slaves, I believe it wise and prudent to recruit all the necessary help we can get. Many of these men that I have considered are former Colchian soldiers and fought in the war against the Egyptians alongside the main army many years ago. As such, I can vouch for their commitment and abilities, in exchange for the promise of ample coin and due payment." Continued to inform Damocles, who well-believed that this method of shoring-up the defenses of the incredibly profitable barony would please the royal woman, since doing so would mean a stronger security of her own purse and coin.
"Additionally, as a way to make-sure that the Baron and his family are safe at all times, I have doubled the guards in the baronial archontiko and seen fit to instruct tighter, more intense schedules so that the local nobles have naught to worry about in terms of their security." He explained providing Tythra with a copy of the rounds that the guards would take in order to defend the incredibly wealthy aristocrats. "As for the defense of the merchants and freed-populations, I trust that my temporary-captain's forces will be enough." he said, never forgetting about any detail concerning the defense of the province he knew just as much as the back of his hand. "Yet, as Your Highness can see, all these measures require a substantial increase in our budgetary funds, especially if you wish for me to continue forward and commission the aid of sell-swords and hired mercenaries. Of course, none of this takes into account the multiple resources that are still needed for the forces of the Damned to be full-prepared for battle." he conditioned, further giving Tythra an estimate cost sheet of just how much money the entire venture would be.
"According to the reports of my lieutenants and quartermasters, for our hoplites, which make the blunt of the provincial army's numbers, we require an additional fifty swords, forty spears and thirty shields. Likewise, in as far as our secondary archer divisions, a calculated two hundred arrows are needed. Naturally, given the giant size of this unit, these numbers are not too concerning and are, in fact, less than both the Baron and I predicted. Nevertheless, they are an additional cost that I believe must be properly considered if the men of the Damned are to fight as fiercely and decisively as we have in the past." Reaffirmed Damocles presenting the golden-haired Head of House Drakos with, yet another written account of the additional expenses that the unit would require if it was to go to war properly. If anything, Damocles was a meticulously organized man, and though his reports and accounts were plentiful, they had been methodical in their presentation.
"Princess Tythra, given all these expenses and measures, I must confess that we are underfunded. I can assure you that it is not an enormous amount of money that would be required, but still, it is such that merits attention, especially given the urgency of the time. To that end, I have consulted with my friends in the Royal Treasury, and advise that you could pass a supplemental appropriations bill before your assembly of Drakos lords for the express purpose of increasing your Dynasteia's military budget, and shift the balance of your annual budget towards a more favorable direction for the military. This action could very much raise the additional funds, without necessarily having to rely on increased taxation. Hence, it is my professional opinion that this is one of the least disruptive pathways you could take. Nevertheless, your wisdom in these affairs far exceeds mine, and so this is only that, a humble suggestion." Counseled the silver-eyed militant, using expert political language that, to most people, would be quite shocking, especially from a commoner. Of course, given his inclination towards administration and leadership abilities, this use of heavy political jargon should not have surprised the royal lady, given that, for all intents and purposes, Damocles had led one of the biggest units in Colchis with mastery and brilliance for years now. Enough had been his talents in the arts of management that he had, at one point, been considered worthy of being promoted to Commander, a prestigious appointment that sadly had been robbed from him.
"For now, these are my main findings, Princess Tythra. I have other matters that require your attention, but I believe these make up the most important and immediate ones. If you so wish, we can discuss these now and then continue with the secondary, more minor affairs of state and defense later at a later time." he finished briefing, bowing respectfully to the golden-haired woman as he carefully awaited her answer, maintaining a poise and grace that obfuscated his lower-class origins and instead made Damocles look every bit a calm and collected politician, rather than a bellicose, rowdy warrior.
Damocles was not often around the presence of the so-called Mother of Dragons, but that did not stop him from behaving as proud and dignified as any man above his status would. There were a myriad thoughts that swarmed in his head about the golden-haired Head of House Drakos, but he was experienced enough in courtly relations to rather let his deeply-ingrained opposition to everything that she stood for be spared for another time, away from her presence and the gaze of her scanning eyes. Thus, for now, he behaved in accordance to his position, and when asked to stand from the ground after his acknowledgement, the towering militant rose up and removed his helm, placing it at his side as a sign of respect to the apparently-superior woman.
"Yes, Your Highness," he addressed in perfect etiquette, nodding gracefully at the fierce-tongued woman as he prepared his opening remarks. "As I trust you are aware, your province of Magnemea boasts the largest and most concentrated population of slaves in Colchis. By their industry, and your leadership, House Drakos has prospered magnificently in terms of its economic resources. Nevertheless, prior to my tenure as the military leader of the barony, I fear there was a total lack of structure and organization regarding the management of the slaves inasmuch as the provincial army was concerned. It was therefore not surprising, that upon my first tour in Egypt, the slaves of Magnemea were unchecked and disobedient. Thus, in an effort to prevent a repetition of such actions, I have taken the liberty of appointing one of my own lieutenants as acting-captain of a small, but well-trained, loyal and, above all else, experienced division of soldiers, so as to maintain proper order and control within your barony's borders." explained Damocles, who had in fact instructed one of his myriad of officers to leave in charge of such a task, but not before making sure that the man he had chosen was not one that was utterly bound to his own will and desire, not the Baron and certainly not of Tythra. There was no way he was going to allow someone else to take advantage of his abscence and try and undermine his position as the puppermaster of the barony. He had worked too hard for too long to let his strings be pulled right from his fingertips.
"Moreover, I have considered negotiating with several mercenary companies of proven reputation and ample resources to aid in the protection of the barony. Their increased numbers would surely be a boon in the maintenance of the province. With over five thousand people in the island, of which about two-thirds are slaves, I believe it wise and prudent to recruit all the necessary help we can get. Many of these men that I have considered are former Colchian soldiers and fought in the war against the Egyptians alongside the main army many years ago. As such, I can vouch for their commitment and abilities, in exchange for the promise of ample coin and due payment." Continued to inform Damocles, who well-believed that this method of shoring-up the defenses of the incredibly profitable barony would please the royal woman, since doing so would mean a stronger security of her own purse and coin.
"Additionally, as a way to make-sure that the Baron and his family are safe at all times, I have doubled the guards in the baronial archontiko and seen fit to instruct tighter, more intense schedules so that the local nobles have naught to worry about in terms of their security." He explained providing Tythra with a copy of the rounds that the guards would take in order to defend the incredibly wealthy aristocrats. "As for the defense of the merchants and freed-populations, I trust that my temporary-captain's forces will be enough." he said, never forgetting about any detail concerning the defense of the province he knew just as much as the back of his hand. "Yet, as Your Highness can see, all these measures require a substantial increase in our budgetary funds, especially if you wish for me to continue forward and commission the aid of sell-swords and hired mercenaries. Of course, none of this takes into account the multiple resources that are still needed for the forces of the Damned to be full-prepared for battle." he conditioned, further giving Tythra an estimate cost sheet of just how much money the entire venture would be.
"According to the reports of my lieutenants and quartermasters, for our hoplites, which make the blunt of the provincial army's numbers, we require an additional fifty swords, forty spears and thirty shields. Likewise, in as far as our secondary archer divisions, a calculated two hundred arrows are needed. Naturally, given the giant size of this unit, these numbers are not too concerning and are, in fact, less than both the Baron and I predicted. Nevertheless, they are an additional cost that I believe must be properly considered if the men of the Damned are to fight as fiercely and decisively as we have in the past." Reaffirmed Damocles presenting the golden-haired Head of House Drakos with, yet another written account of the additional expenses that the unit would require if it was to go to war properly. If anything, Damocles was a meticulously organized man, and though his reports and accounts were plentiful, they had been methodical in their presentation.
"Princess Tythra, given all these expenses and measures, I must confess that we are underfunded. I can assure you that it is not an enormous amount of money that would be required, but still, it is such that merits attention, especially given the urgency of the time. To that end, I have consulted with my friends in the Royal Treasury, and advise that you could pass a supplemental appropriations bill before your assembly of Drakos lords for the express purpose of increasing your Dynasteia's military budget, and shift the balance of your annual budget towards a more favorable direction for the military. This action could very much raise the additional funds, without necessarily having to rely on increased taxation. Hence, it is my professional opinion that this is one of the least disruptive pathways you could take. Nevertheless, your wisdom in these affairs far exceeds mine, and so this is only that, a humble suggestion." Counseled the silver-eyed militant, using expert political language that, to most people, would be quite shocking, especially from a commoner. Of course, given his inclination towards administration and leadership abilities, this use of heavy political jargon should not have surprised the royal lady, given that, for all intents and purposes, Damocles had led one of the biggest units in Colchis with mastery and brilliance for years now. Enough had been his talents in the arts of management that he had, at one point, been considered worthy of being promoted to Commander, a prestigious appointment that sadly had been robbed from him.
"For now, these are my main findings, Princess Tythra. I have other matters that require your attention, but I believe these make up the most important and immediate ones. If you so wish, we can discuss these now and then continue with the secondary, more minor affairs of state and defense later at a later time." he finished briefing, bowing respectfully to the golden-haired woman as he carefully awaited her answer, maintaining a poise and grace that obfuscated his lower-class origins and instead made Damocles look every bit a calm and collected politician, rather than a bellicose, rowdy warrior.
While Tythra gave the appearance of not paying attention, she was in fact listening to every word as she went through different reports. A difficult portion of being Head of House was balancing the needs of every single one of her provinces. Each was calling for more weapons, more armor, more supplies, but even beyond that, there were underlying problems.
First: There was heavy competition in both Kingdoms for that very same resource. Not just for the protection of their own provinces, but for the men (and women) sailing to Egypt. Tythra did begin cautious ordering having learned from her experience of the last war ten years ago. But there was no true way to predict what the provinces would need until the time happens.
Second: The resources to make these items also are in high demand. Now, this is a good and bad thing. For the Drakos owning most of the mines in Colchis, it was a very good thing. The mining industry was booming, and the need for iron was plenty. But this did cause a shift in priorities for Tythra. Not only for economic reasons did she need to make sure that her mines continued to work at full efficiency, but now for the safety of the kingdoms.
To add to that point, due to the sudden fire in Aetaea in Panamos, which provided a good portion of the lumber in the Greek Kingdoms, there was now a shortage of wood. This added to the importance of Dolomesa and Molossia who were the sole exports of timber in Colchis. Despite this, Colchis is mostly mountains, and the two were only sub-exports and not enough to replace the hole in Greek trade that was left when Aetaea suddenly stopped lumber production.
Third: As a result of the scarcity of resources, and the high demand from two kingdoms and seven dynesteias the price of weapons, armor, and arrows have shot sky-high. But it did not stop there. Food and provisions would be needed on the boats, which in turn could impact her provinces. There were fewer bodies in Colchis, but that did not mean there were fewer jobs. Tythra had many things to consider that went beyond the military.
But it did not mean she would neglect them. The budget would need to be raised, to that there was no doubt. Tythra had already authorized access to the managerial funds, ensuring that certain projects continued to work uninterrupted. But to give all that the Captain was requiring would simply not be possible. Perhaps in normal times, if prices had not fluctuated as much as they have, Tythra could consider the request more thoughtfully. However, given current resources, to fulfill that order would mean to mean to pull more money from other areas that already are seeing cuts. She had to be careful balancing security, infrastructure, and the basic needs of her people.
“Two hundred arrows I can do. However, you must make do with forty swords, 20 spears, and 20 shields. See to it before you disembark that industry remains uninterrupted. There should be no threat of mines being shut down or slave revolt while the men are away at war. Carts carrying iron between the provinces are to be protected. Rearrange what you must so that mining can continue no matter the circumstance.” Tythra said as she held her documents away from her eyes a bit so that they could focus in. The older she got, the harder it was to read.
“Now what was it you wished to discuss, Captain?”
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While Tythra gave the appearance of not paying attention, she was in fact listening to every word as she went through different reports. A difficult portion of being Head of House was balancing the needs of every single one of her provinces. Each was calling for more weapons, more armor, more supplies, but even beyond that, there were underlying problems.
First: There was heavy competition in both Kingdoms for that very same resource. Not just for the protection of their own provinces, but for the men (and women) sailing to Egypt. Tythra did begin cautious ordering having learned from her experience of the last war ten years ago. But there was no true way to predict what the provinces would need until the time happens.
Second: The resources to make these items also are in high demand. Now, this is a good and bad thing. For the Drakos owning most of the mines in Colchis, it was a very good thing. The mining industry was booming, and the need for iron was plenty. But this did cause a shift in priorities for Tythra. Not only for economic reasons did she need to make sure that her mines continued to work at full efficiency, but now for the safety of the kingdoms.
To add to that point, due to the sudden fire in Aetaea in Panamos, which provided a good portion of the lumber in the Greek Kingdoms, there was now a shortage of wood. This added to the importance of Dolomesa and Molossia who were the sole exports of timber in Colchis. Despite this, Colchis is mostly mountains, and the two were only sub-exports and not enough to replace the hole in Greek trade that was left when Aetaea suddenly stopped lumber production.
Third: As a result of the scarcity of resources, and the high demand from two kingdoms and seven dynesteias the price of weapons, armor, and arrows have shot sky-high. But it did not stop there. Food and provisions would be needed on the boats, which in turn could impact her provinces. There were fewer bodies in Colchis, but that did not mean there were fewer jobs. Tythra had many things to consider that went beyond the military.
But it did not mean she would neglect them. The budget would need to be raised, to that there was no doubt. Tythra had already authorized access to the managerial funds, ensuring that certain projects continued to work uninterrupted. But to give all that the Captain was requiring would simply not be possible. Perhaps in normal times, if prices had not fluctuated as much as they have, Tythra could consider the request more thoughtfully. However, given current resources, to fulfill that order would mean to mean to pull more money from other areas that already are seeing cuts. She had to be careful balancing security, infrastructure, and the basic needs of her people.
“Two hundred arrows I can do. However, you must make do with forty swords, 20 spears, and 20 shields. See to it before you disembark that industry remains uninterrupted. There should be no threat of mines being shut down or slave revolt while the men are away at war. Carts carrying iron between the provinces are to be protected. Rearrange what you must so that mining can continue no matter the circumstance.” Tythra said as she held her documents away from her eyes a bit so that they could focus in. The older she got, the harder it was to read.
“Now what was it you wished to discuss, Captain?”
While Tythra gave the appearance of not paying attention, she was in fact listening to every word as she went through different reports. A difficult portion of being Head of House was balancing the needs of every single one of her provinces. Each was calling for more weapons, more armor, more supplies, but even beyond that, there were underlying problems.
First: There was heavy competition in both Kingdoms for that very same resource. Not just for the protection of their own provinces, but for the men (and women) sailing to Egypt. Tythra did begin cautious ordering having learned from her experience of the last war ten years ago. But there was no true way to predict what the provinces would need until the time happens.
Second: The resources to make these items also are in high demand. Now, this is a good and bad thing. For the Drakos owning most of the mines in Colchis, it was a very good thing. The mining industry was booming, and the need for iron was plenty. But this did cause a shift in priorities for Tythra. Not only for economic reasons did she need to make sure that her mines continued to work at full efficiency, but now for the safety of the kingdoms.
To add to that point, due to the sudden fire in Aetaea in Panamos, which provided a good portion of the lumber in the Greek Kingdoms, there was now a shortage of wood. This added to the importance of Dolomesa and Molossia who were the sole exports of timber in Colchis. Despite this, Colchis is mostly mountains, and the two were only sub-exports and not enough to replace the hole in Greek trade that was left when Aetaea suddenly stopped lumber production.
Third: As a result of the scarcity of resources, and the high demand from two kingdoms and seven dynesteias the price of weapons, armor, and arrows have shot sky-high. But it did not stop there. Food and provisions would be needed on the boats, which in turn could impact her provinces. There were fewer bodies in Colchis, but that did not mean there were fewer jobs. Tythra had many things to consider that went beyond the military.
But it did not mean she would neglect them. The budget would need to be raised, to that there was no doubt. Tythra had already authorized access to the managerial funds, ensuring that certain projects continued to work uninterrupted. But to give all that the Captain was requiring would simply not be possible. Perhaps in normal times, if prices had not fluctuated as much as they have, Tythra could consider the request more thoughtfully. However, given current resources, to fulfill that order would mean to mean to pull more money from other areas that already are seeing cuts. She had to be careful balancing security, infrastructure, and the basic needs of her people.
“Two hundred arrows I can do. However, you must make do with forty swords, 20 spears, and 20 shields. See to it before you disembark that industry remains uninterrupted. There should be no threat of mines being shut down or slave revolt while the men are away at war. Carts carrying iron between the provinces are to be protected. Rearrange what you must so that mining can continue no matter the circumstance.” Tythra said as she held her documents away from her eyes a bit so that they could focus in. The older she got, the harder it was to read.
“Now what was it you wished to discuss, Captain?”
The currency of war was not lost to Damocles at all. In his years as a professional soldier and administrator he had come to behold the powerful effect that battle could produce on the economy of a kingdom. In fact, he had borne witness to the inefficiencies of the system beforehand, quickly recalling the though of his buried brothers, sister and parents after metal productions had been forced to extremely dangerous levels so many long years ago. But such a thought was neither here nor there. He was not about to get sentimental in front of someone as politically relevant as the head of the dynasteia that had been patron to the foolish baron that he had dug his claws on deep already.
Still, Damocles had profited greatly from the industry of war in the past, and had made many convincing cases over the use of it as a means to increase the coffers of those who wished to increase their wealth and make an opportunity out of the circumstances of battle. Dolomesa and Magnemea in particular accounted for much of the metals needed to feed the forges of smiths in Chaossis and Arcanaes. If it had been his judgement, he would have advised to increase the price of metal due to the increased demand for iron and ore, thus making for a far more lucrative instance than the usual manner of trade. It was a coldhearted, but undeniable truth that war did make people wealthy, if one was calculating enough to see to it that production be increased so as to keep up with the heightened demands of the markets.
Of course, this had been the very logic he had applied in the past to those that asked for his advice. Damocles might not have cared much for money, but he understood people, and was acutely interested in deciphering the inner drives that motivated people to act, learning of their behavior and traits so as to learn how to make use of them in his constantly-shifting game of thrones. Besides, war was good for him personally, for it meant a possible acquisition of possible glory and affluence, thus aligning his hawkish disposition and bellicose attitude with those of those more financially motivated. It was a balanced alliance after all: Damocles would get the fame and glory that he had made a career out of, and his nominal superiors could line their pockets with a plethora of coins, if they so wished to listen to his advocacy.
“I will instruct the remaining division of men to prioritize the integrity of the tunnels then. Fortunately, my men and agents in Magnemea have reported that we have not been cursed with unstable mines this season, thus I do not predict any major inconveniences concerning cave-ins or collapses.” Considered the militant as he kept his logical, but respectful tone, eschewing honeyed words in favor of straightforward facts and data. “I will go ahead and commission for the mercenaries then. Their numbers will intimidate the slaves, keep them in line through fear and deter them from any insurrectionist ambitions.” He argued, knowing fully well that the groups of men he had laid out in his reports were of reputable standing and honorable esteem, well, as honorable as soldiers-for-hire could get.
“If I may, Princess Tythra, could I suggest altering your judgement for twenty swords and forty spears instead? Swords, unlike spears, tend to not break, and therefore make for a much sound long-term investment than spears, which oftentimes need replacing when they inevitable give in and shatter.” Pointed out Damocles with the same deference that he had shown throughout the entire conversation, mindfully keeping track of his words so as to not come off as condescending or patronizing. He was a captain of the Drakos yes, but unlike other men who tended to simply follow along and never question the decisions of their superiors, like the sycophants that they were, Damocles had always been careful to balance his superficial, but publicly unquestioned loyalty, with his distinct brand of realistic pragmatism. “Besides, it is far cheaper to make more spears than swords, Your Highness, thus helping both your coffers and your men.” He smiled, bowing his head reverentially as he finished his constructive criticism.
It was at that moment that the conversation changed to a matter that more interested him than the defense of the province, which he had mostly thought of in advance before. “Very well…” he began, shifting his weight so as to address his seriousness. “As you are no doubt aware of, Magnemea has seen increased pirate activity in the last couple of months. Now, my efforts have seen to it that their acts of thievery have been kept in check and reduced to an appropriate null. Nevertheless, I do believe that further legislative actions are required. The number of pirates that have attempted to pass off their trade as that of sailors under our official dock registry has seen a dramatic increase, and it is becoming increasingly difficult to tell apart the truths from the lies due to the outdated list of names that we have in the first place. Simply put, the laws that me and my men are executing appear to be outdated and in need of further adjustments, starting with the sailor registry. The pirates are getting smarter, and if we do not get smarter too, then it will not matter how many men and women I assign to safeguard the province."
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Check out their information page here.
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The currency of war was not lost to Damocles at all. In his years as a professional soldier and administrator he had come to behold the powerful effect that battle could produce on the economy of a kingdom. In fact, he had borne witness to the inefficiencies of the system beforehand, quickly recalling the though of his buried brothers, sister and parents after metal productions had been forced to extremely dangerous levels so many long years ago. But such a thought was neither here nor there. He was not about to get sentimental in front of someone as politically relevant as the head of the dynasteia that had been patron to the foolish baron that he had dug his claws on deep already.
Still, Damocles had profited greatly from the industry of war in the past, and had made many convincing cases over the use of it as a means to increase the coffers of those who wished to increase their wealth and make an opportunity out of the circumstances of battle. Dolomesa and Magnemea in particular accounted for much of the metals needed to feed the forges of smiths in Chaossis and Arcanaes. If it had been his judgement, he would have advised to increase the price of metal due to the increased demand for iron and ore, thus making for a far more lucrative instance than the usual manner of trade. It was a coldhearted, but undeniable truth that war did make people wealthy, if one was calculating enough to see to it that production be increased so as to keep up with the heightened demands of the markets.
Of course, this had been the very logic he had applied in the past to those that asked for his advice. Damocles might not have cared much for money, but he understood people, and was acutely interested in deciphering the inner drives that motivated people to act, learning of their behavior and traits so as to learn how to make use of them in his constantly-shifting game of thrones. Besides, war was good for him personally, for it meant a possible acquisition of possible glory and affluence, thus aligning his hawkish disposition and bellicose attitude with those of those more financially motivated. It was a balanced alliance after all: Damocles would get the fame and glory that he had made a career out of, and his nominal superiors could line their pockets with a plethora of coins, if they so wished to listen to his advocacy.
“I will instruct the remaining division of men to prioritize the integrity of the tunnels then. Fortunately, my men and agents in Magnemea have reported that we have not been cursed with unstable mines this season, thus I do not predict any major inconveniences concerning cave-ins or collapses.” Considered the militant as he kept his logical, but respectful tone, eschewing honeyed words in favor of straightforward facts and data. “I will go ahead and commission for the mercenaries then. Their numbers will intimidate the slaves, keep them in line through fear and deter them from any insurrectionist ambitions.” He argued, knowing fully well that the groups of men he had laid out in his reports were of reputable standing and honorable esteem, well, as honorable as soldiers-for-hire could get.
“If I may, Princess Tythra, could I suggest altering your judgement for twenty swords and forty spears instead? Swords, unlike spears, tend to not break, and therefore make for a much sound long-term investment than spears, which oftentimes need replacing when they inevitable give in and shatter.” Pointed out Damocles with the same deference that he had shown throughout the entire conversation, mindfully keeping track of his words so as to not come off as condescending or patronizing. He was a captain of the Drakos yes, but unlike other men who tended to simply follow along and never question the decisions of their superiors, like the sycophants that they were, Damocles had always been careful to balance his superficial, but publicly unquestioned loyalty, with his distinct brand of realistic pragmatism. “Besides, it is far cheaper to make more spears than swords, Your Highness, thus helping both your coffers and your men.” He smiled, bowing his head reverentially as he finished his constructive criticism.
It was at that moment that the conversation changed to a matter that more interested him than the defense of the province, which he had mostly thought of in advance before. “Very well…” he began, shifting his weight so as to address his seriousness. “As you are no doubt aware of, Magnemea has seen increased pirate activity in the last couple of months. Now, my efforts have seen to it that their acts of thievery have been kept in check and reduced to an appropriate null. Nevertheless, I do believe that further legislative actions are required. The number of pirates that have attempted to pass off their trade as that of sailors under our official dock registry has seen a dramatic increase, and it is becoming increasingly difficult to tell apart the truths from the lies due to the outdated list of names that we have in the first place. Simply put, the laws that me and my men are executing appear to be outdated and in need of further adjustments, starting with the sailor registry. The pirates are getting smarter, and if we do not get smarter too, then it will not matter how many men and women I assign to safeguard the province."
The currency of war was not lost to Damocles at all. In his years as a professional soldier and administrator he had come to behold the powerful effect that battle could produce on the economy of a kingdom. In fact, he had borne witness to the inefficiencies of the system beforehand, quickly recalling the though of his buried brothers, sister and parents after metal productions had been forced to extremely dangerous levels so many long years ago. But such a thought was neither here nor there. He was not about to get sentimental in front of someone as politically relevant as the head of the dynasteia that had been patron to the foolish baron that he had dug his claws on deep already.
Still, Damocles had profited greatly from the industry of war in the past, and had made many convincing cases over the use of it as a means to increase the coffers of those who wished to increase their wealth and make an opportunity out of the circumstances of battle. Dolomesa and Magnemea in particular accounted for much of the metals needed to feed the forges of smiths in Chaossis and Arcanaes. If it had been his judgement, he would have advised to increase the price of metal due to the increased demand for iron and ore, thus making for a far more lucrative instance than the usual manner of trade. It was a coldhearted, but undeniable truth that war did make people wealthy, if one was calculating enough to see to it that production be increased so as to keep up with the heightened demands of the markets.
Of course, this had been the very logic he had applied in the past to those that asked for his advice. Damocles might not have cared much for money, but he understood people, and was acutely interested in deciphering the inner drives that motivated people to act, learning of their behavior and traits so as to learn how to make use of them in his constantly-shifting game of thrones. Besides, war was good for him personally, for it meant a possible acquisition of possible glory and affluence, thus aligning his hawkish disposition and bellicose attitude with those of those more financially motivated. It was a balanced alliance after all: Damocles would get the fame and glory that he had made a career out of, and his nominal superiors could line their pockets with a plethora of coins, if they so wished to listen to his advocacy.
“I will instruct the remaining division of men to prioritize the integrity of the tunnels then. Fortunately, my men and agents in Magnemea have reported that we have not been cursed with unstable mines this season, thus I do not predict any major inconveniences concerning cave-ins or collapses.” Considered the militant as he kept his logical, but respectful tone, eschewing honeyed words in favor of straightforward facts and data. “I will go ahead and commission for the mercenaries then. Their numbers will intimidate the slaves, keep them in line through fear and deter them from any insurrectionist ambitions.” He argued, knowing fully well that the groups of men he had laid out in his reports were of reputable standing and honorable esteem, well, as honorable as soldiers-for-hire could get.
“If I may, Princess Tythra, could I suggest altering your judgement for twenty swords and forty spears instead? Swords, unlike spears, tend to not break, and therefore make for a much sound long-term investment than spears, which oftentimes need replacing when they inevitable give in and shatter.” Pointed out Damocles with the same deference that he had shown throughout the entire conversation, mindfully keeping track of his words so as to not come off as condescending or patronizing. He was a captain of the Drakos yes, but unlike other men who tended to simply follow along and never question the decisions of their superiors, like the sycophants that they were, Damocles had always been careful to balance his superficial, but publicly unquestioned loyalty, with his distinct brand of realistic pragmatism. “Besides, it is far cheaper to make more spears than swords, Your Highness, thus helping both your coffers and your men.” He smiled, bowing his head reverentially as he finished his constructive criticism.
It was at that moment that the conversation changed to a matter that more interested him than the defense of the province, which he had mostly thought of in advance before. “Very well…” he began, shifting his weight so as to address his seriousness. “As you are no doubt aware of, Magnemea has seen increased pirate activity in the last couple of months. Now, my efforts have seen to it that their acts of thievery have been kept in check and reduced to an appropriate null. Nevertheless, I do believe that further legislative actions are required. The number of pirates that have attempted to pass off their trade as that of sailors under our official dock registry has seen a dramatic increase, and it is becoming increasingly difficult to tell apart the truths from the lies due to the outdated list of names that we have in the first place. Simply put, the laws that me and my men are executing appear to be outdated and in need of further adjustments, starting with the sailor registry. The pirates are getting smarter, and if we do not get smarter too, then it will not matter how many men and women I assign to safeguard the province."
Tythra once more glanced at her budget before giving a wave of approval, scratching out the original number with her stylus and instead putting the updated provisions allocated to the Magnemea soldiers. That much was a nominal enough change that Tythra would allow with no fuss. She often deferred to men in her console in matters such as the military and kept an eye on the budget to make sure what they requested was feasible. Tythra knew what she needed to know in order to be a successful Head of House, but this was the one place in which she could not break through the gender roles. Perhaps Tythra could have if she was younger and skilled, but never did she have the desire to.
That mattered not, for Captain Damocles continued on with the other matter at hand. He spoke of pirates and… dock registries. Tythra knew nothing of dock registries, that was for the Master of Sea to look after. Pirates, however, wasn’t something necessarily new. Tythra was very aware that pirates existed, hearing of thefts and attacks on occasion. But the solution wasn’t something so simple. It required nuance and finesse, something Tythra did not expect a simple captain to possess.
She allowed him to finish. Instead of just answering him as she continued her work, as she had been doing this entire time, she finally put down the stylus. Her lips curled into a well-practiced smile. It was courtly, it was polite, and it did not reach her eyes. “Have you ever committed a crime, Captain?” Tythra began. “Have you murdered someone? Perhaps you assaulted a maiden?”
This was not to accuse him of anything. She only said this to make a point. “No matter if you did or didn’t, the answer would be no. Let’s pretend you did. I would have no reason to not believe you. You look like a soldier, you talk like a soldier, you act like a soldier. So why in the gods would a pirate announce who they are?”
They wouldn’t unless they were stupid. It’s not the stupid pirates that people have to worry about. The ones that paraded as if they were merchants were the men to watch. The problem was, in many ways pirates were merchants. They sold goods in Colchis. They sold people to the slavers. They procured foreign treasures and brought them to Colchis lands.
The problem with pirates was simple: It was taxes.
“I will acknowledge you in saying that there is an increase in pirate activity. However, I will remind you, Captain, that they, themselves, are not illegally here in Colchis. It is not the occupation that is the problem, it is what they personally do. And, as you have said, you have seen to it that their thievery has been decreased to an appropriate null. That would suggest that the laws we have in thievery, tax evasion, murder are working.” Whether it be pirate or citizen, none of the three listed is allowed in Colchis. Should there be an increase, that was certainly something that Tythra would look into- not the pirate but the crime itself.
Tythra’s smile faded. The politeness disappeared and settled back into a stern, unamused face. “I’ll remind you that you are charged with Magnemea, Captain. If there is no increase in their crimes, then I have no data to suggest that pirates are an issue. While I certainly do not agree in the killing, stealing, or tax evaded on Colchis soil, and fully endorse the deployment of our armed forces to fight back on such barbarism, there is a benefit in making business with their kind.” In particular, while they might evade Colchis tax, they also sell under market by having evaded other kingdom’s taxes. While Tythra herself would never lower herself into interacting with a sea rat, her provinces had seen some benefit to black-market trading. Tythra was willing to turn the blind eye for profit- to a point, of course.
“Now, should you see deficiencies in Magnemea itself, and have the data with you, I welcome you to bring it to your Baron so that I can properly examine the situation. Though I would expect with you departing to Egypt in the coming weeks would make that impossible. Though, with more warships in the ocean, I would expect pirate activity to reach a crawl. The fortunate side effect of war,” Tythra’s smile returned, once more never reaching her eyes. “Was this all, captain?” She asked once more sharply. Her fingers drummed on the desk, awaiting his response.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Tythra once more glanced at her budget before giving a wave of approval, scratching out the original number with her stylus and instead putting the updated provisions allocated to the Magnemea soldiers. That much was a nominal enough change that Tythra would allow with no fuss. She often deferred to men in her console in matters such as the military and kept an eye on the budget to make sure what they requested was feasible. Tythra knew what she needed to know in order to be a successful Head of House, but this was the one place in which she could not break through the gender roles. Perhaps Tythra could have if she was younger and skilled, but never did she have the desire to.
That mattered not, for Captain Damocles continued on with the other matter at hand. He spoke of pirates and… dock registries. Tythra knew nothing of dock registries, that was for the Master of Sea to look after. Pirates, however, wasn’t something necessarily new. Tythra was very aware that pirates existed, hearing of thefts and attacks on occasion. But the solution wasn’t something so simple. It required nuance and finesse, something Tythra did not expect a simple captain to possess.
She allowed him to finish. Instead of just answering him as she continued her work, as she had been doing this entire time, she finally put down the stylus. Her lips curled into a well-practiced smile. It was courtly, it was polite, and it did not reach her eyes. “Have you ever committed a crime, Captain?” Tythra began. “Have you murdered someone? Perhaps you assaulted a maiden?”
This was not to accuse him of anything. She only said this to make a point. “No matter if you did or didn’t, the answer would be no. Let’s pretend you did. I would have no reason to not believe you. You look like a soldier, you talk like a soldier, you act like a soldier. So why in the gods would a pirate announce who they are?”
They wouldn’t unless they were stupid. It’s not the stupid pirates that people have to worry about. The ones that paraded as if they were merchants were the men to watch. The problem was, in many ways pirates were merchants. They sold goods in Colchis. They sold people to the slavers. They procured foreign treasures and brought them to Colchis lands.
The problem with pirates was simple: It was taxes.
“I will acknowledge you in saying that there is an increase in pirate activity. However, I will remind you, Captain, that they, themselves, are not illegally here in Colchis. It is not the occupation that is the problem, it is what they personally do. And, as you have said, you have seen to it that their thievery has been decreased to an appropriate null. That would suggest that the laws we have in thievery, tax evasion, murder are working.” Whether it be pirate or citizen, none of the three listed is allowed in Colchis. Should there be an increase, that was certainly something that Tythra would look into- not the pirate but the crime itself.
Tythra’s smile faded. The politeness disappeared and settled back into a stern, unamused face. “I’ll remind you that you are charged with Magnemea, Captain. If there is no increase in their crimes, then I have no data to suggest that pirates are an issue. While I certainly do not agree in the killing, stealing, or tax evaded on Colchis soil, and fully endorse the deployment of our armed forces to fight back on such barbarism, there is a benefit in making business with their kind.” In particular, while they might evade Colchis tax, they also sell under market by having evaded other kingdom’s taxes. While Tythra herself would never lower herself into interacting with a sea rat, her provinces had seen some benefit to black-market trading. Tythra was willing to turn the blind eye for profit- to a point, of course.
“Now, should you see deficiencies in Magnemea itself, and have the data with you, I welcome you to bring it to your Baron so that I can properly examine the situation. Though I would expect with you departing to Egypt in the coming weeks would make that impossible. Though, with more warships in the ocean, I would expect pirate activity to reach a crawl. The fortunate side effect of war,” Tythra’s smile returned, once more never reaching her eyes. “Was this all, captain?” She asked once more sharply. Her fingers drummed on the desk, awaiting his response.
Tythra once more glanced at her budget before giving a wave of approval, scratching out the original number with her stylus and instead putting the updated provisions allocated to the Magnemea soldiers. That much was a nominal enough change that Tythra would allow with no fuss. She often deferred to men in her console in matters such as the military and kept an eye on the budget to make sure what they requested was feasible. Tythra knew what she needed to know in order to be a successful Head of House, but this was the one place in which she could not break through the gender roles. Perhaps Tythra could have if she was younger and skilled, but never did she have the desire to.
That mattered not, for Captain Damocles continued on with the other matter at hand. He spoke of pirates and… dock registries. Tythra knew nothing of dock registries, that was for the Master of Sea to look after. Pirates, however, wasn’t something necessarily new. Tythra was very aware that pirates existed, hearing of thefts and attacks on occasion. But the solution wasn’t something so simple. It required nuance and finesse, something Tythra did not expect a simple captain to possess.
She allowed him to finish. Instead of just answering him as she continued her work, as she had been doing this entire time, she finally put down the stylus. Her lips curled into a well-practiced smile. It was courtly, it was polite, and it did not reach her eyes. “Have you ever committed a crime, Captain?” Tythra began. “Have you murdered someone? Perhaps you assaulted a maiden?”
This was not to accuse him of anything. She only said this to make a point. “No matter if you did or didn’t, the answer would be no. Let’s pretend you did. I would have no reason to not believe you. You look like a soldier, you talk like a soldier, you act like a soldier. So why in the gods would a pirate announce who they are?”
They wouldn’t unless they were stupid. It’s not the stupid pirates that people have to worry about. The ones that paraded as if they were merchants were the men to watch. The problem was, in many ways pirates were merchants. They sold goods in Colchis. They sold people to the slavers. They procured foreign treasures and brought them to Colchis lands.
The problem with pirates was simple: It was taxes.
“I will acknowledge you in saying that there is an increase in pirate activity. However, I will remind you, Captain, that they, themselves, are not illegally here in Colchis. It is not the occupation that is the problem, it is what they personally do. And, as you have said, you have seen to it that their thievery has been decreased to an appropriate null. That would suggest that the laws we have in thievery, tax evasion, murder are working.” Whether it be pirate or citizen, none of the three listed is allowed in Colchis. Should there be an increase, that was certainly something that Tythra would look into- not the pirate but the crime itself.
Tythra’s smile faded. The politeness disappeared and settled back into a stern, unamused face. “I’ll remind you that you are charged with Magnemea, Captain. If there is no increase in their crimes, then I have no data to suggest that pirates are an issue. While I certainly do not agree in the killing, stealing, or tax evaded on Colchis soil, and fully endorse the deployment of our armed forces to fight back on such barbarism, there is a benefit in making business with their kind.” In particular, while they might evade Colchis tax, they also sell under market by having evaded other kingdom’s taxes. While Tythra herself would never lower herself into interacting with a sea rat, her provinces had seen some benefit to black-market trading. Tythra was willing to turn the blind eye for profit- to a point, of course.
“Now, should you see deficiencies in Magnemea itself, and have the data with you, I welcome you to bring it to your Baron so that I can properly examine the situation. Though I would expect with you departing to Egypt in the coming weeks would make that impossible. Though, with more warships in the ocean, I would expect pirate activity to reach a crawl. The fortunate side effect of war,” Tythra’s smile returned, once more never reaching her eyes. “Was this all, captain?” She asked once more sharply. Her fingers drummed on the desk, awaiting his response.
In many ways, Damocles could understand the tragedy that was Tythra. In her was half of the embodiment that he hated, her Kotas bloodline, which he knew had done nothing but stand in the way of what he considered to be the progresses needed for proper change to happen. That part of her he detested and loathed, and neither men nor gods would convince him otherwise of her crime of being born part of that family.
Yet there was another side to her that that even Damocles would not deny. She was cunning, pragmatic and determined, traits that the silver-eyed militant very much respected, if not admired in others. In her was an oddness that made her stand different from her cousins who sat the thrones. Perhaps, had she been the ruler instead, the Magnemean might not have detested that arrogant bloodline and cursed their very existence with misery and failure. Yet, that was just wishful thinking and nothing more. It was pointless to think about alternative pathways in life. Only a fool would waste time pondering the what ifs, of time and fate.
Upon hearing his words were well received and approved, Damocles acknowledged her decision with an apparently grateful bow of his head. It might have been a false act on his behalf, but he knew that anything asked of a Dynasteia head that was consented to was a victory earned, no matter how small or big it might be. Besides, it did signify a win for his own forces, seeing as he did take his role as a commander quite seriously, even if he had far greater ambitions still than serving as a glorified warrior.
And yet when she approached his second topic of inquiry, he acknowledged feeling a small degree of surprise, a rare thing that almost nobody ever did. Damocles prided himself in his foresight and affinity for knowing how ot manipulate and control others to satisfy his own goals. In fact, if he was not being too bold, he had cleverly learned that the best plans always guaranteed successful in some way, even if the greater objective itself had failed. Thus, when she broke her own words and provided a rather thorough analysis of the greater-scope situation, the captain could not help but smirk softly to himself, a tiny, small gesture that indicated that, perhaps, he had underestimated her.
“Forgive my candor Princess Tythra, but it is moments like these that remind me just how clever you are. I am glad to lead your troops, Your Highness.” He said, offering a modicum of honesty to his words. It was true that he was proud of leading one of the largest and fiercest armies in Colchis. And he would not deny it. Tythra of Drakos was an extraordinary woman. He might have hated her vehemently, but there was also a certain sense of respect that he did not usually give to others. As far as he could tell, intelligence had not been equally distributed amongst her and her brother, the king. Tython may have had the crown, but as far as brains went, she had the lion’s share, and that was important to keep in mind when dealing with the Head of the Drakos.
“Ah!!” said Damocles gently, but with a confidence of motion that betrayed his cunning. “Yes, I thought we might have stumbled upon this little snag.” His eyes bright with confidence, mostly not due to the fact that he may have outwitted the Lady of Drakos, for that had not entirely been his reasoning, but rather because his prudence had proven him correct in thinking ahead. “Seeing as I predicted this possible scenario, I took the liberty of already compiling our most recent spikes in deficiencies, as you said.” He illustrated, revealing yet another document, this one far more extensive, wide and considerably heavy than the ones before. It was more of a book really, but it was exactly the information that Tythra had requested. “I pride myself in my work ethic, and since starting my tenure as captain, have kept track of all instances of law breaking, no matter how small.” He elaborated, believing that this meticulous study would have at least impressed the woman a bit, even if it was just a little.
“Of course, seeing as I am but a militant, I broached the subject with my baron before, and used his financial genius to give a much more precise picture of what exactly is happening. Based on his calculations and my reports, Magnemea has been losing between seven to nine percent of its total tax revenue since the start of Karneios up to now in Panamos. This represents a dramatic increase since last year’s loss of taxes, which, the Master of Coin reported to be a far more tolerable two to three percent. And the source of this loss of money is primarily attributed to illegal trading and theft of jewels, iron ore and, most concerning, slaves.” He authoritatively expressed in a his cursory summary of his work.
“To be perfectly honest with you, Your Highness, I must respectfully disagree. There is a reason why I have argued for the use of mercenaries in addition to the remaining forces I have segregated apart. Yes, there will be more ships in the water, as you have said, but those ships will be heading South to Taengea, away from the Northern isles of Naxos, and thereby Magnemea and Dolomesa. Moreover, though we may strength our position with mercenaries and hired swords, the fact of the matter is that most of the Colchian armed forces will be away, depriving much of the kingdom’s waters of their watchful eyes.” Grimly analyzed the Magnemean as he turned to the princess’s desk and focused his eyes at her.
“To use your very own analogy, if I were a criminal, I would think the coming weeks would be the perfect time to strike.”
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In many ways, Damocles could understand the tragedy that was Tythra. In her was half of the embodiment that he hated, her Kotas bloodline, which he knew had done nothing but stand in the way of what he considered to be the progresses needed for proper change to happen. That part of her he detested and loathed, and neither men nor gods would convince him otherwise of her crime of being born part of that family.
Yet there was another side to her that that even Damocles would not deny. She was cunning, pragmatic and determined, traits that the silver-eyed militant very much respected, if not admired in others. In her was an oddness that made her stand different from her cousins who sat the thrones. Perhaps, had she been the ruler instead, the Magnemean might not have detested that arrogant bloodline and cursed their very existence with misery and failure. Yet, that was just wishful thinking and nothing more. It was pointless to think about alternative pathways in life. Only a fool would waste time pondering the what ifs, of time and fate.
Upon hearing his words were well received and approved, Damocles acknowledged her decision with an apparently grateful bow of his head. It might have been a false act on his behalf, but he knew that anything asked of a Dynasteia head that was consented to was a victory earned, no matter how small or big it might be. Besides, it did signify a win for his own forces, seeing as he did take his role as a commander quite seriously, even if he had far greater ambitions still than serving as a glorified warrior.
And yet when she approached his second topic of inquiry, he acknowledged feeling a small degree of surprise, a rare thing that almost nobody ever did. Damocles prided himself in his foresight and affinity for knowing how ot manipulate and control others to satisfy his own goals. In fact, if he was not being too bold, he had cleverly learned that the best plans always guaranteed successful in some way, even if the greater objective itself had failed. Thus, when she broke her own words and provided a rather thorough analysis of the greater-scope situation, the captain could not help but smirk softly to himself, a tiny, small gesture that indicated that, perhaps, he had underestimated her.
“Forgive my candor Princess Tythra, but it is moments like these that remind me just how clever you are. I am glad to lead your troops, Your Highness.” He said, offering a modicum of honesty to his words. It was true that he was proud of leading one of the largest and fiercest armies in Colchis. And he would not deny it. Tythra of Drakos was an extraordinary woman. He might have hated her vehemently, but there was also a certain sense of respect that he did not usually give to others. As far as he could tell, intelligence had not been equally distributed amongst her and her brother, the king. Tython may have had the crown, but as far as brains went, she had the lion’s share, and that was important to keep in mind when dealing with the Head of the Drakos.
“Ah!!” said Damocles gently, but with a confidence of motion that betrayed his cunning. “Yes, I thought we might have stumbled upon this little snag.” His eyes bright with confidence, mostly not due to the fact that he may have outwitted the Lady of Drakos, for that had not entirely been his reasoning, but rather because his prudence had proven him correct in thinking ahead. “Seeing as I predicted this possible scenario, I took the liberty of already compiling our most recent spikes in deficiencies, as you said.” He illustrated, revealing yet another document, this one far more extensive, wide and considerably heavy than the ones before. It was more of a book really, but it was exactly the information that Tythra had requested. “I pride myself in my work ethic, and since starting my tenure as captain, have kept track of all instances of law breaking, no matter how small.” He elaborated, believing that this meticulous study would have at least impressed the woman a bit, even if it was just a little.
“Of course, seeing as I am but a militant, I broached the subject with my baron before, and used his financial genius to give a much more precise picture of what exactly is happening. Based on his calculations and my reports, Magnemea has been losing between seven to nine percent of its total tax revenue since the start of Karneios up to now in Panamos. This represents a dramatic increase since last year’s loss of taxes, which, the Master of Coin reported to be a far more tolerable two to three percent. And the source of this loss of money is primarily attributed to illegal trading and theft of jewels, iron ore and, most concerning, slaves.” He authoritatively expressed in a his cursory summary of his work.
“To be perfectly honest with you, Your Highness, I must respectfully disagree. There is a reason why I have argued for the use of mercenaries in addition to the remaining forces I have segregated apart. Yes, there will be more ships in the water, as you have said, but those ships will be heading South to Taengea, away from the Northern isles of Naxos, and thereby Magnemea and Dolomesa. Moreover, though we may strength our position with mercenaries and hired swords, the fact of the matter is that most of the Colchian armed forces will be away, depriving much of the kingdom’s waters of their watchful eyes.” Grimly analyzed the Magnemean as he turned to the princess’s desk and focused his eyes at her.
“To use your very own analogy, if I were a criminal, I would think the coming weeks would be the perfect time to strike.”
In many ways, Damocles could understand the tragedy that was Tythra. In her was half of the embodiment that he hated, her Kotas bloodline, which he knew had done nothing but stand in the way of what he considered to be the progresses needed for proper change to happen. That part of her he detested and loathed, and neither men nor gods would convince him otherwise of her crime of being born part of that family.
Yet there was another side to her that that even Damocles would not deny. She was cunning, pragmatic and determined, traits that the silver-eyed militant very much respected, if not admired in others. In her was an oddness that made her stand different from her cousins who sat the thrones. Perhaps, had she been the ruler instead, the Magnemean might not have detested that arrogant bloodline and cursed their very existence with misery and failure. Yet, that was just wishful thinking and nothing more. It was pointless to think about alternative pathways in life. Only a fool would waste time pondering the what ifs, of time and fate.
Upon hearing his words were well received and approved, Damocles acknowledged her decision with an apparently grateful bow of his head. It might have been a false act on his behalf, but he knew that anything asked of a Dynasteia head that was consented to was a victory earned, no matter how small or big it might be. Besides, it did signify a win for his own forces, seeing as he did take his role as a commander quite seriously, even if he had far greater ambitions still than serving as a glorified warrior.
And yet when she approached his second topic of inquiry, he acknowledged feeling a small degree of surprise, a rare thing that almost nobody ever did. Damocles prided himself in his foresight and affinity for knowing how ot manipulate and control others to satisfy his own goals. In fact, if he was not being too bold, he had cleverly learned that the best plans always guaranteed successful in some way, even if the greater objective itself had failed. Thus, when she broke her own words and provided a rather thorough analysis of the greater-scope situation, the captain could not help but smirk softly to himself, a tiny, small gesture that indicated that, perhaps, he had underestimated her.
“Forgive my candor Princess Tythra, but it is moments like these that remind me just how clever you are. I am glad to lead your troops, Your Highness.” He said, offering a modicum of honesty to his words. It was true that he was proud of leading one of the largest and fiercest armies in Colchis. And he would not deny it. Tythra of Drakos was an extraordinary woman. He might have hated her vehemently, but there was also a certain sense of respect that he did not usually give to others. As far as he could tell, intelligence had not been equally distributed amongst her and her brother, the king. Tython may have had the crown, but as far as brains went, she had the lion’s share, and that was important to keep in mind when dealing with the Head of the Drakos.
“Ah!!” said Damocles gently, but with a confidence of motion that betrayed his cunning. “Yes, I thought we might have stumbled upon this little snag.” His eyes bright with confidence, mostly not due to the fact that he may have outwitted the Lady of Drakos, for that had not entirely been his reasoning, but rather because his prudence had proven him correct in thinking ahead. “Seeing as I predicted this possible scenario, I took the liberty of already compiling our most recent spikes in deficiencies, as you said.” He illustrated, revealing yet another document, this one far more extensive, wide and considerably heavy than the ones before. It was more of a book really, but it was exactly the information that Tythra had requested. “I pride myself in my work ethic, and since starting my tenure as captain, have kept track of all instances of law breaking, no matter how small.” He elaborated, believing that this meticulous study would have at least impressed the woman a bit, even if it was just a little.
“Of course, seeing as I am but a militant, I broached the subject with my baron before, and used his financial genius to give a much more precise picture of what exactly is happening. Based on his calculations and my reports, Magnemea has been losing between seven to nine percent of its total tax revenue since the start of Karneios up to now in Panamos. This represents a dramatic increase since last year’s loss of taxes, which, the Master of Coin reported to be a far more tolerable two to three percent. And the source of this loss of money is primarily attributed to illegal trading and theft of jewels, iron ore and, most concerning, slaves.” He authoritatively expressed in a his cursory summary of his work.
“To be perfectly honest with you, Your Highness, I must respectfully disagree. There is a reason why I have argued for the use of mercenaries in addition to the remaining forces I have segregated apart. Yes, there will be more ships in the water, as you have said, but those ships will be heading South to Taengea, away from the Northern isles of Naxos, and thereby Magnemea and Dolomesa. Moreover, though we may strength our position with mercenaries and hired swords, the fact of the matter is that most of the Colchian armed forces will be away, depriving much of the kingdom’s waters of their watchful eyes.” Grimly analyzed the Magnemean as he turned to the princess’s desk and focused his eyes at her.
“To use your very own analogy, if I were a criminal, I would think the coming weeks would be the perfect time to strike.”
When the captain produced the report Tythra, for a brief moment, thought why he didn’t lead with the numbers. That moment lasted barely a second as she chalked it up to rarely interacting with the man on a political basis. She instead glanced through it, holding it a bit farther away so her eyes could better focus on the words. As she aged, it got harder and harder to see what was right in front of her face.
Historically, as far as Tythra’s records have shown, the lowest the estimated loss to the black market of Colchis was 13%. On average, however, Colchis lost about 20% of its revenue to the black market. The senate did not typically discuss this matter, though Tythra did remember a time when Thesus was alive that it had gone as high as 36% and the senate met to discuss that very matter. Thesus was a man who very much valued coin. In fact, during the short years, they were married, he had taught Tythra so much about economics. He had the goal to become Master of Coin and leave Head of House to his brother if it was not for his premature death.
Anyhow, this was not the time to be thinking of her late husband. She considered the captain’s words carefully. 7-9% of loss taxes was not necessarily a cause of alarm… however, this was at an overall Colchian level. An individual province was a different story. As well, such a dramatic increase up 5-6% was something that was, in fact, worth investigating.
“While I can agree the matter is worth investigating, presenting this to the senate is an entirely different matter. Firstly, senate is for the good of all of Cochis,” More specifically, it was for the good of the Drakos provinces, at least as far as Tythra and her barons should vote. Anyone else that benefited was just a bonus. “Secondly, we do not vote on problems. We vote on solutions. What you presented to me, Captain, was not a solution.”
For it to rise to the point that the senate needed to be involved, Tythra would have to see how it affected the whole of her provinces. But not only that, for such a dramatic rise to occur Tythra could not believe that sea rats were the only cause. Yes, they easily could be a factor. And the theft of slaves, particularly those that worked her mines, was no matter to scoff at, but everything else just appeared… off. It was not something Tythra would voice, but she had to research the entire process to find the root problem. To assume it was all on piracy would be foolhardy. Where were the soldiers to stop the thieving? The guards to patrol the slaves? Was there corruption? Bribery? All things Tythra must consider.
Of course, if it extended past Magnamea, then there was even more to observe. Tythra found that finding the cause began with five simple questions: Why? She would ask that five times. All of this took time. It would not be resolved in this simple conversation.
Tythra placed the papers down. She looked at the man standing before her once again as she leaned back in her chair. Damocles, Captain of the Damned was just that: A Captain. He was a soldier, one who was getting ready for war. Yet he spoke to her as if he was a politician, or at the very least an aspiring politician. Which begged the question:
“Are you unsatisfied with your position?” Tythra asked him, one brow delicately rising upward. “You speak outside your station in suggesting policy. To me, it suggests a lack of understanding of the role that a captain has or dissatisfaction with that position. Which is it, hm?”
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When the captain produced the report Tythra, for a brief moment, thought why he didn’t lead with the numbers. That moment lasted barely a second as she chalked it up to rarely interacting with the man on a political basis. She instead glanced through it, holding it a bit farther away so her eyes could better focus on the words. As she aged, it got harder and harder to see what was right in front of her face.
Historically, as far as Tythra’s records have shown, the lowest the estimated loss to the black market of Colchis was 13%. On average, however, Colchis lost about 20% of its revenue to the black market. The senate did not typically discuss this matter, though Tythra did remember a time when Thesus was alive that it had gone as high as 36% and the senate met to discuss that very matter. Thesus was a man who very much valued coin. In fact, during the short years, they were married, he had taught Tythra so much about economics. He had the goal to become Master of Coin and leave Head of House to his brother if it was not for his premature death.
Anyhow, this was not the time to be thinking of her late husband. She considered the captain’s words carefully. 7-9% of loss taxes was not necessarily a cause of alarm… however, this was at an overall Colchian level. An individual province was a different story. As well, such a dramatic increase up 5-6% was something that was, in fact, worth investigating.
“While I can agree the matter is worth investigating, presenting this to the senate is an entirely different matter. Firstly, senate is for the good of all of Cochis,” More specifically, it was for the good of the Drakos provinces, at least as far as Tythra and her barons should vote. Anyone else that benefited was just a bonus. “Secondly, we do not vote on problems. We vote on solutions. What you presented to me, Captain, was not a solution.”
For it to rise to the point that the senate needed to be involved, Tythra would have to see how it affected the whole of her provinces. But not only that, for such a dramatic rise to occur Tythra could not believe that sea rats were the only cause. Yes, they easily could be a factor. And the theft of slaves, particularly those that worked her mines, was no matter to scoff at, but everything else just appeared… off. It was not something Tythra would voice, but she had to research the entire process to find the root problem. To assume it was all on piracy would be foolhardy. Where were the soldiers to stop the thieving? The guards to patrol the slaves? Was there corruption? Bribery? All things Tythra must consider.
Of course, if it extended past Magnamea, then there was even more to observe. Tythra found that finding the cause began with five simple questions: Why? She would ask that five times. All of this took time. It would not be resolved in this simple conversation.
Tythra placed the papers down. She looked at the man standing before her once again as she leaned back in her chair. Damocles, Captain of the Damned was just that: A Captain. He was a soldier, one who was getting ready for war. Yet he spoke to her as if he was a politician, or at the very least an aspiring politician. Which begged the question:
“Are you unsatisfied with your position?” Tythra asked him, one brow delicately rising upward. “You speak outside your station in suggesting policy. To me, it suggests a lack of understanding of the role that a captain has or dissatisfaction with that position. Which is it, hm?”
When the captain produced the report Tythra, for a brief moment, thought why he didn’t lead with the numbers. That moment lasted barely a second as she chalked it up to rarely interacting with the man on a political basis. She instead glanced through it, holding it a bit farther away so her eyes could better focus on the words. As she aged, it got harder and harder to see what was right in front of her face.
Historically, as far as Tythra’s records have shown, the lowest the estimated loss to the black market of Colchis was 13%. On average, however, Colchis lost about 20% of its revenue to the black market. The senate did not typically discuss this matter, though Tythra did remember a time when Thesus was alive that it had gone as high as 36% and the senate met to discuss that very matter. Thesus was a man who very much valued coin. In fact, during the short years, they were married, he had taught Tythra so much about economics. He had the goal to become Master of Coin and leave Head of House to his brother if it was not for his premature death.
Anyhow, this was not the time to be thinking of her late husband. She considered the captain’s words carefully. 7-9% of loss taxes was not necessarily a cause of alarm… however, this was at an overall Colchian level. An individual province was a different story. As well, such a dramatic increase up 5-6% was something that was, in fact, worth investigating.
“While I can agree the matter is worth investigating, presenting this to the senate is an entirely different matter. Firstly, senate is for the good of all of Cochis,” More specifically, it was for the good of the Drakos provinces, at least as far as Tythra and her barons should vote. Anyone else that benefited was just a bonus. “Secondly, we do not vote on problems. We vote on solutions. What you presented to me, Captain, was not a solution.”
For it to rise to the point that the senate needed to be involved, Tythra would have to see how it affected the whole of her provinces. But not only that, for such a dramatic rise to occur Tythra could not believe that sea rats were the only cause. Yes, they easily could be a factor. And the theft of slaves, particularly those that worked her mines, was no matter to scoff at, but everything else just appeared… off. It was not something Tythra would voice, but she had to research the entire process to find the root problem. To assume it was all on piracy would be foolhardy. Where were the soldiers to stop the thieving? The guards to patrol the slaves? Was there corruption? Bribery? All things Tythra must consider.
Of course, if it extended past Magnamea, then there was even more to observe. Tythra found that finding the cause began with five simple questions: Why? She would ask that five times. All of this took time. It would not be resolved in this simple conversation.
Tythra placed the papers down. She looked at the man standing before her once again as she leaned back in her chair. Damocles, Captain of the Damned was just that: A Captain. He was a soldier, one who was getting ready for war. Yet he spoke to her as if he was a politician, or at the very least an aspiring politician. Which begged the question:
“Are you unsatisfied with your position?” Tythra asked him, one brow delicately rising upward. “You speak outside your station in suggesting policy. To me, it suggests a lack of understanding of the role that a captain has or dissatisfaction with that position. Which is it, hm?”
Once again, the Lady of Drakos gave Damocles a reason to pause in his steadfast aggressions and ponder the circumstances he had been brought forward to. Was he unsatisfied with his position? Incredibly so. He had been unsatisfied with his rank since three years past since Vangelis snubbed him of his rightful promotion as a Commander, a covetous and rare position that only but a select very few would ever seat. Yet his ambitions ran further than a life of martial banality. Swords and bloodshed had been his career yes, but it was not his passion. Administration, governance and management, those had bene his true callings, not the blade or the shield. He was a man of logic, words and numbers, far more sophisticated than the intrusions of base strategy and combat, both which he had mastered years past. And yet he had been denied. He had always been denied!
But, perhaps, therein lied an opportunity to start to mend the error of the past….
His mouth opened at an instinct, but words did not flow out, and for the first time in his long tenure as a militant, Damocles took a step back and collected his thoughts, dissipating his pride and letting his most eloquent side take over. He calmed himself and pondered over, showing a fire in his eyes that burned much hotter than the mythical flames that was the eponymous origin of the name of the House that Tythra ruled over. He knew what he wanted, but there were certain things he would omit in their entirety. He realized that he had a pathway and course, and it was logical and strategic, but one that most would scoff at. Alas, Tythra was not like the rest of the people of Colchis. He might have despised her on a spiritual level, but even he could not deny that she was a fair and prudent woman.
“Humor me, Princess Tythra…” he began, his tone far more serious and clear than before. “You love your daughters, correct? As a mother, they are your most prized treasures and greatest pride, yes?” It was a reasonable question, one that did not demand a length response, a mere yes or no would have sufficed. “Well, I too love my family, small as it may be. I am not a father, but I long for children. My rank as captain has brought me glory and prestige, and through it I have been able to adjust my true calling in life. You yourself have witnessed my own passion for management, how in the span of just five years I have re-organized the Damned from a corrupt, disorganized and backwater band of ruffians to a true army, unyielding, methodical and renowned for the skill of its hoplites, worthy of the pride and dignity of both your House and of Colchis.” He offered up as irrefutable evidence as an administrator, and yet without once breaking the seriousness and genuine clarity of his words. He spoke with conviction, poetry and precision, the likes of which some rarely managed. And though he remained in place and kept his body dignified and stately, his gestures were calculated and immaculate, betraying an ease of speech-craft that came naturally to him.
“So to answer your question, yes, Princess Tythra, I am dissatisfied with my position, immensely so. For despite having fought in no less than two wars, I have remained in my place as a Captain, regardless of the fact that just three years ago, both rank and file, and officers of mark all understood me to be willing and ready for the coveted rank of Commander. And yet here I remain, wasted and sullied in a position that I have already mastered and yet feel nothing but shackled to. One that leaves my descedants with nothing, and forces me to deny the fullness of my abilities. ” He continued, exuding a forceful conviction that could have rallied armies to battle, despite the fact that, not once, did he raise his voice at all, keeping the same eloquence that he had kept before. “I have devoted myself, heart, body and soul to the art of war, and been a passionate student of the trade, but I have no satisfaction in it. Others may enjoy the path of glory, but I do not. I do not seek fame, though it has satisfied me well. Nor do I seek riches, for I am not motivated by greed. I am motivated by my family, my passion to lead those that cannot lead themselves and my desire to leave a legacy of plenty, not of little.” He said, channeling the spirit of a charismatic orator, like those great men of the Senate who oftentimes discussed between themselves matters that truly interested him and filled him with real passion, unlike his call to arms. He firmly pointed to, extending a hand outwardly so as to project the intensity of his words, but always mindful of never raising his voice at all. There was a very fine line between theatricality and impressiveness, and throughout his years as a speaker, Damocles had learned to toe that line carefully, perhaps all leading up to this moment right here.
"I am willing to sacrifice, my rank and my title, and change course for a career in politics. My affinity for management, my leadership and my strategic mindset has been the key to my success in the Damned, not my bladework, or footwork or the strength of my muscles. And yet, as you can see, I am not conceited enough to say that I am entirely ready for such a pathway. I know war, and I know soldiers, for that has been my life’s work, and even though I declare, here and now that I dream of baronies, I am not ready for one yet. Those who wish to be great people of the state need to know how to handle the state in the first place. I am not so bold as to say that I am ready to be a baron, for I am still untrained in the details that are oftentimes denied to those of lower birth, yet I am hungry for learning and know that, despite my aspirations and the unforgiving nature of statecraft, I am ready to mix my passions for governance and my life’s work as a militant in the position of Master of War, and for that I would be more than happy to trade my hard-fought title. I am aware that this is a great gambit, and that to give away a military commission is a risk that almost no man is willing to take, but as the philosopher Parmenides once wrote, nothing comes from nothing, and that those who are not willing to sacrifice never achieve greatness. You yourself know this to be true. In you stands the only woman in the history of Colchis who not only rules as the Head of a Dynasteia, but also who holds a seat in the Senate, a feat all thought impossible, and yet here you are, the Princess Tythra of Drakos, the great politician, the famous Mother of Dragons, a personal inspiration to me..." Flourished Damocles in what he believed was an articulate point of conviction.
"What I ask, I ask plainly, unlike those spineless many who simper and cower with poisonous words of deceit and lies. I know that what I say is above my station, greatly so. But I also know that I can achieve greatness if provided access long-denied to the tools necessary to forge on ahead. And so here I stand, bold and exposed, with my dreams laid bare in the hopes that, perhaps, one day, I may be able to rise from the ashes of my lowliness and soar high and proud, like a phoenix risen from flames." And with that, he finished his improvised speech, evidently showing an elegance with words that did not come to some, no matter how hard they studied rhetoric and oratory.
He knew that what he had said had been bold, and it had been great, but he could no longer hold back the fire that shone in his bright, shimmering eyes. He knew that what he had asked was not entirely out of reach, and that his cause had been strangely genuine and, if he may say so, noble. Of course, he had omitted a great deal of what he wished for, but let it be known that Damocles was nothing if but a charismatic and persuasive man. It was true that he lacked the years of grooming that came with the nobility, but he had seen other nobles like the Valaoritis boys and what he knew was an endless stupor of unimpressive sycophancy. He had known of the sycophancy of the men of the Court, who had used every honeyed word available to court favor. Damocles was not going to waste Tythra’s time with empty promises and a sweetened tone that betrayed him as obsequious. He had proven his loyalty to the Drakos for nearly two decades, and he had achieved a great many things that some highborn men never succeeded in doing, even with all the training and education that he had never obtained.
Damocles had forged his life in the fires of industry and labor, and he had suffered a great many failures too, burning him in the process whenever his hand had dealt too unsteadily. And yet, like a golden phoenix of yore, in the end, he had always risen from the ashes of his defeat. He had been burned three years ago, and now, he was ready to soar above it all once more unto that glorious future that he so craved.
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Once again, the Lady of Drakos gave Damocles a reason to pause in his steadfast aggressions and ponder the circumstances he had been brought forward to. Was he unsatisfied with his position? Incredibly so. He had been unsatisfied with his rank since three years past since Vangelis snubbed him of his rightful promotion as a Commander, a covetous and rare position that only but a select very few would ever seat. Yet his ambitions ran further than a life of martial banality. Swords and bloodshed had been his career yes, but it was not his passion. Administration, governance and management, those had bene his true callings, not the blade or the shield. He was a man of logic, words and numbers, far more sophisticated than the intrusions of base strategy and combat, both which he had mastered years past. And yet he had been denied. He had always been denied!
But, perhaps, therein lied an opportunity to start to mend the error of the past….
His mouth opened at an instinct, but words did not flow out, and for the first time in his long tenure as a militant, Damocles took a step back and collected his thoughts, dissipating his pride and letting his most eloquent side take over. He calmed himself and pondered over, showing a fire in his eyes that burned much hotter than the mythical flames that was the eponymous origin of the name of the House that Tythra ruled over. He knew what he wanted, but there were certain things he would omit in their entirety. He realized that he had a pathway and course, and it was logical and strategic, but one that most would scoff at. Alas, Tythra was not like the rest of the people of Colchis. He might have despised her on a spiritual level, but even he could not deny that she was a fair and prudent woman.
“Humor me, Princess Tythra…” he began, his tone far more serious and clear than before. “You love your daughters, correct? As a mother, they are your most prized treasures and greatest pride, yes?” It was a reasonable question, one that did not demand a length response, a mere yes or no would have sufficed. “Well, I too love my family, small as it may be. I am not a father, but I long for children. My rank as captain has brought me glory and prestige, and through it I have been able to adjust my true calling in life. You yourself have witnessed my own passion for management, how in the span of just five years I have re-organized the Damned from a corrupt, disorganized and backwater band of ruffians to a true army, unyielding, methodical and renowned for the skill of its hoplites, worthy of the pride and dignity of both your House and of Colchis.” He offered up as irrefutable evidence as an administrator, and yet without once breaking the seriousness and genuine clarity of his words. He spoke with conviction, poetry and precision, the likes of which some rarely managed. And though he remained in place and kept his body dignified and stately, his gestures were calculated and immaculate, betraying an ease of speech-craft that came naturally to him.
“So to answer your question, yes, Princess Tythra, I am dissatisfied with my position, immensely so. For despite having fought in no less than two wars, I have remained in my place as a Captain, regardless of the fact that just three years ago, both rank and file, and officers of mark all understood me to be willing and ready for the coveted rank of Commander. And yet here I remain, wasted and sullied in a position that I have already mastered and yet feel nothing but shackled to. One that leaves my descedants with nothing, and forces me to deny the fullness of my abilities. ” He continued, exuding a forceful conviction that could have rallied armies to battle, despite the fact that, not once, did he raise his voice at all, keeping the same eloquence that he had kept before. “I have devoted myself, heart, body and soul to the art of war, and been a passionate student of the trade, but I have no satisfaction in it. Others may enjoy the path of glory, but I do not. I do not seek fame, though it has satisfied me well. Nor do I seek riches, for I am not motivated by greed. I am motivated by my family, my passion to lead those that cannot lead themselves and my desire to leave a legacy of plenty, not of little.” He said, channeling the spirit of a charismatic orator, like those great men of the Senate who oftentimes discussed between themselves matters that truly interested him and filled him with real passion, unlike his call to arms. He firmly pointed to, extending a hand outwardly so as to project the intensity of his words, but always mindful of never raising his voice at all. There was a very fine line between theatricality and impressiveness, and throughout his years as a speaker, Damocles had learned to toe that line carefully, perhaps all leading up to this moment right here.
"I am willing to sacrifice, my rank and my title, and change course for a career in politics. My affinity for management, my leadership and my strategic mindset has been the key to my success in the Damned, not my bladework, or footwork or the strength of my muscles. And yet, as you can see, I am not conceited enough to say that I am entirely ready for such a pathway. I know war, and I know soldiers, for that has been my life’s work, and even though I declare, here and now that I dream of baronies, I am not ready for one yet. Those who wish to be great people of the state need to know how to handle the state in the first place. I am not so bold as to say that I am ready to be a baron, for I am still untrained in the details that are oftentimes denied to those of lower birth, yet I am hungry for learning and know that, despite my aspirations and the unforgiving nature of statecraft, I am ready to mix my passions for governance and my life’s work as a militant in the position of Master of War, and for that I would be more than happy to trade my hard-fought title. I am aware that this is a great gambit, and that to give away a military commission is a risk that almost no man is willing to take, but as the philosopher Parmenides once wrote, nothing comes from nothing, and that those who are not willing to sacrifice never achieve greatness. You yourself know this to be true. In you stands the only woman in the history of Colchis who not only rules as the Head of a Dynasteia, but also who holds a seat in the Senate, a feat all thought impossible, and yet here you are, the Princess Tythra of Drakos, the great politician, the famous Mother of Dragons, a personal inspiration to me..." Flourished Damocles in what he believed was an articulate point of conviction.
"What I ask, I ask plainly, unlike those spineless many who simper and cower with poisonous words of deceit and lies. I know that what I say is above my station, greatly so. But I also know that I can achieve greatness if provided access long-denied to the tools necessary to forge on ahead. And so here I stand, bold and exposed, with my dreams laid bare in the hopes that, perhaps, one day, I may be able to rise from the ashes of my lowliness and soar high and proud, like a phoenix risen from flames." And with that, he finished his improvised speech, evidently showing an elegance with words that did not come to some, no matter how hard they studied rhetoric and oratory.
He knew that what he had said had been bold, and it had been great, but he could no longer hold back the fire that shone in his bright, shimmering eyes. He knew that what he had asked was not entirely out of reach, and that his cause had been strangely genuine and, if he may say so, noble. Of course, he had omitted a great deal of what he wished for, but let it be known that Damocles was nothing if but a charismatic and persuasive man. It was true that he lacked the years of grooming that came with the nobility, but he had seen other nobles like the Valaoritis boys and what he knew was an endless stupor of unimpressive sycophancy. He had known of the sycophancy of the men of the Court, who had used every honeyed word available to court favor. Damocles was not going to waste Tythra’s time with empty promises and a sweetened tone that betrayed him as obsequious. He had proven his loyalty to the Drakos for nearly two decades, and he had achieved a great many things that some highborn men never succeeded in doing, even with all the training and education that he had never obtained.
Damocles had forged his life in the fires of industry and labor, and he had suffered a great many failures too, burning him in the process whenever his hand had dealt too unsteadily. And yet, like a golden phoenix of yore, in the end, he had always risen from the ashes of his defeat. He had been burned three years ago, and now, he was ready to soar above it all once more unto that glorious future that he so craved.
Once again, the Lady of Drakos gave Damocles a reason to pause in his steadfast aggressions and ponder the circumstances he had been brought forward to. Was he unsatisfied with his position? Incredibly so. He had been unsatisfied with his rank since three years past since Vangelis snubbed him of his rightful promotion as a Commander, a covetous and rare position that only but a select very few would ever seat. Yet his ambitions ran further than a life of martial banality. Swords and bloodshed had been his career yes, but it was not his passion. Administration, governance and management, those had bene his true callings, not the blade or the shield. He was a man of logic, words and numbers, far more sophisticated than the intrusions of base strategy and combat, both which he had mastered years past. And yet he had been denied. He had always been denied!
But, perhaps, therein lied an opportunity to start to mend the error of the past….
His mouth opened at an instinct, but words did not flow out, and for the first time in his long tenure as a militant, Damocles took a step back and collected his thoughts, dissipating his pride and letting his most eloquent side take over. He calmed himself and pondered over, showing a fire in his eyes that burned much hotter than the mythical flames that was the eponymous origin of the name of the House that Tythra ruled over. He knew what he wanted, but there were certain things he would omit in their entirety. He realized that he had a pathway and course, and it was logical and strategic, but one that most would scoff at. Alas, Tythra was not like the rest of the people of Colchis. He might have despised her on a spiritual level, but even he could not deny that she was a fair and prudent woman.
“Humor me, Princess Tythra…” he began, his tone far more serious and clear than before. “You love your daughters, correct? As a mother, they are your most prized treasures and greatest pride, yes?” It was a reasonable question, one that did not demand a length response, a mere yes or no would have sufficed. “Well, I too love my family, small as it may be. I am not a father, but I long for children. My rank as captain has brought me glory and prestige, and through it I have been able to adjust my true calling in life. You yourself have witnessed my own passion for management, how in the span of just five years I have re-organized the Damned from a corrupt, disorganized and backwater band of ruffians to a true army, unyielding, methodical and renowned for the skill of its hoplites, worthy of the pride and dignity of both your House and of Colchis.” He offered up as irrefutable evidence as an administrator, and yet without once breaking the seriousness and genuine clarity of his words. He spoke with conviction, poetry and precision, the likes of which some rarely managed. And though he remained in place and kept his body dignified and stately, his gestures were calculated and immaculate, betraying an ease of speech-craft that came naturally to him.
“So to answer your question, yes, Princess Tythra, I am dissatisfied with my position, immensely so. For despite having fought in no less than two wars, I have remained in my place as a Captain, regardless of the fact that just three years ago, both rank and file, and officers of mark all understood me to be willing and ready for the coveted rank of Commander. And yet here I remain, wasted and sullied in a position that I have already mastered and yet feel nothing but shackled to. One that leaves my descedants with nothing, and forces me to deny the fullness of my abilities. ” He continued, exuding a forceful conviction that could have rallied armies to battle, despite the fact that, not once, did he raise his voice at all, keeping the same eloquence that he had kept before. “I have devoted myself, heart, body and soul to the art of war, and been a passionate student of the trade, but I have no satisfaction in it. Others may enjoy the path of glory, but I do not. I do not seek fame, though it has satisfied me well. Nor do I seek riches, for I am not motivated by greed. I am motivated by my family, my passion to lead those that cannot lead themselves and my desire to leave a legacy of plenty, not of little.” He said, channeling the spirit of a charismatic orator, like those great men of the Senate who oftentimes discussed between themselves matters that truly interested him and filled him with real passion, unlike his call to arms. He firmly pointed to, extending a hand outwardly so as to project the intensity of his words, but always mindful of never raising his voice at all. There was a very fine line between theatricality and impressiveness, and throughout his years as a speaker, Damocles had learned to toe that line carefully, perhaps all leading up to this moment right here.
"I am willing to sacrifice, my rank and my title, and change course for a career in politics. My affinity for management, my leadership and my strategic mindset has been the key to my success in the Damned, not my bladework, or footwork or the strength of my muscles. And yet, as you can see, I am not conceited enough to say that I am entirely ready for such a pathway. I know war, and I know soldiers, for that has been my life’s work, and even though I declare, here and now that I dream of baronies, I am not ready for one yet. Those who wish to be great people of the state need to know how to handle the state in the first place. I am not so bold as to say that I am ready to be a baron, for I am still untrained in the details that are oftentimes denied to those of lower birth, yet I am hungry for learning and know that, despite my aspirations and the unforgiving nature of statecraft, I am ready to mix my passions for governance and my life’s work as a militant in the position of Master of War, and for that I would be more than happy to trade my hard-fought title. I am aware that this is a great gambit, and that to give away a military commission is a risk that almost no man is willing to take, but as the philosopher Parmenides once wrote, nothing comes from nothing, and that those who are not willing to sacrifice never achieve greatness. You yourself know this to be true. In you stands the only woman in the history of Colchis who not only rules as the Head of a Dynasteia, but also who holds a seat in the Senate, a feat all thought impossible, and yet here you are, the Princess Tythra of Drakos, the great politician, the famous Mother of Dragons, a personal inspiration to me..." Flourished Damocles in what he believed was an articulate point of conviction.
"What I ask, I ask plainly, unlike those spineless many who simper and cower with poisonous words of deceit and lies. I know that what I say is above my station, greatly so. But I also know that I can achieve greatness if provided access long-denied to the tools necessary to forge on ahead. And so here I stand, bold and exposed, with my dreams laid bare in the hopes that, perhaps, one day, I may be able to rise from the ashes of my lowliness and soar high and proud, like a phoenix risen from flames." And with that, he finished his improvised speech, evidently showing an elegance with words that did not come to some, no matter how hard they studied rhetoric and oratory.
He knew that what he had said had been bold, and it had been great, but he could no longer hold back the fire that shone in his bright, shimmering eyes. He knew that what he had asked was not entirely out of reach, and that his cause had been strangely genuine and, if he may say so, noble. Of course, he had omitted a great deal of what he wished for, but let it be known that Damocles was nothing if but a charismatic and persuasive man. It was true that he lacked the years of grooming that came with the nobility, but he had seen other nobles like the Valaoritis boys and what he knew was an endless stupor of unimpressive sycophancy. He had known of the sycophancy of the men of the Court, who had used every honeyed word available to court favor. Damocles was not going to waste Tythra’s time with empty promises and a sweetened tone that betrayed him as obsequious. He had proven his loyalty to the Drakos for nearly two decades, and he had achieved a great many things that some highborn men never succeeded in doing, even with all the training and education that he had never obtained.
Damocles had forged his life in the fires of industry and labor, and he had suffered a great many failures too, burning him in the process whenever his hand had dealt too unsteadily. And yet, like a golden phoenix of yore, in the end, he had always risen from the ashes of his defeat. He had been burned three years ago, and now, he was ready to soar above it all once more unto that glorious future that he so craved.
Tythra had asked a question, and what she got back was a speech. Throughout the entirety of it, her face never changed. She never tried to interrupt him. She didn’t even look away. She allowed the man to speak and get all that he had wanted to off his chest.
There was a lot to unpack. As he spoke Tythra made notes. He started with the comment on her children. Now in this Tythra did recognize she was unusual. To most, starting with a point that the speaker and audience have in common is a strong tactic. It is a way to grasp at someone’s emotions from the very start and would be a strong introduction. The problem Tythra had with it was twofold. The first was he failed to make it clear how that ties back to his speech, aside from the fact that he too cares about his family and it is a motivator to him. The second was that Tythra was very careful to leave emotion out of politics. Thus trying to strike at her maternal side was often met with annoyance, and always caught as a manipulation tactic. It wasn’t necessarily something that angered Tythra, after all, she too would pull on her children during speeches as a way to garner empathy and understanding, but it wasn’t anything that worked to her. Not that the captain had any way of knowing this, of course.
Then he spoke of baronies. Tythra did not raise an eyebrow, but she wanted to. Baronies were a lofty goal, especially for a commoner. It was rare that Tythra would award a barony, especially with her satisfaction with those that are currently in charge. Now of course things could change, Tythra wasn’t daft. But the man announced a goal that was incredibly large. It would be easier for him to marry into an established house, or even become a master at something than being awarded his own barony. Tythra didn’t want to say never, after all, people said a woman would never be a senator and look at her. But was his chances high? At this moment, no.
Listing her accomplishments was smart of him. Flattery did always help in politics. This was why Tythra was a stickler for manners. She mastered a smile when all she wanted to do was scowl. She mastered buttery words that veiled deeper meanings. Whether or not she was a true inspiration to him did not matter. He at least said correct things there, and Tythra should be an inspiration. If his goals are so lofty, than why not aspire to be like the one who shattered her own?
His closer tried to sell her. For an off the cuff persuasive speech, it was rather well put together. There were parts that were perhaps a little… overdone. Tythra may be a woman, but she was still a Colchian. Bold, passionate speeches meant to tug at heartstrings simply wasn’t their way. It was also fairly wordy, which with the life Tythra led meant that every second was precious and should not be wasted. With that being said, it wasn’t at all terrible, nor did it draw anger from the Princess. It was… passable.
When he finished, seemingly satisfied with what he said, Tythra merely picked her stylus back up. She wrote down the requisition order and sealed it with the Drakos seal. “Please deliver this to your lieutenant.” was all Tythra said. With the scroll rolled up, she handed it to the captain.
There was not much to say at his declaration. Tythra was in no position to offer him anything. She did not have any positions available, and even if she did she would need more than an emboldened speech for him to be awarded it. She did not feel as if Magnemea could afford to lose its captain. And the man before her would be sailing to Egypt shortly. This very well might be the last time she speaks to him, and she was not going to waste words on a man who might not live so long to remember them.
However, she knew not to leave him feeling deflated. Throw a dog a bone, as they say. “Should I hear great things about you during the war, I will be happy to continue this conversation afterward. I wish you luck, Captain. Do try to avoid a premature trip to Hades.” That would be far too inconvenient for Tythra to suddenly have to replace.
“Now, with that, all cleared up. In summation: Your requisition is in your hand. I will look at the issues you mentioned. Do make sure, as I said, that mining operations do not get interrupted. That, and the protection of the carts, should be your priority. Lastly, should I hear a good word from you during your endeavors in Egypt, I shall allow you the chance to speak with me again and perhaps I shall be able to help… point you in the right direction to fulfill your goals.” A barony? That was absolutely nothing that Tythra could promise. He would need to really impress her, and even then there were a lot of candidates for Tythra to consider. Gods, even Essa should she get married before Imeeya was a possibility. And, as the man said, Princess Tythra’s most prized treasures are her daughters. As the so-called Mother of Dragons, she’d protect her treasure hoard with her life. Making sure her children had power was of her utmost priority.
Now, however, with this meeting taking far longer than Tythra initially anticipated, it was time to wrap things up. She was farther behind schedule than she would like, and with the men departing from Colchis soon she still had many more things to get ready. From an overabundance of senate meetings to discuss the plan, to her meetings with barons, lieutenants, and captains, Tythra had absolutely no time to waste. With a smile and a pointed flourish towards the door, the Princess of Colchis said, “If that is all, Captain, you are dismissed.”
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Tythra had asked a question, and what she got back was a speech. Throughout the entirety of it, her face never changed. She never tried to interrupt him. She didn’t even look away. She allowed the man to speak and get all that he had wanted to off his chest.
There was a lot to unpack. As he spoke Tythra made notes. He started with the comment on her children. Now in this Tythra did recognize she was unusual. To most, starting with a point that the speaker and audience have in common is a strong tactic. It is a way to grasp at someone’s emotions from the very start and would be a strong introduction. The problem Tythra had with it was twofold. The first was he failed to make it clear how that ties back to his speech, aside from the fact that he too cares about his family and it is a motivator to him. The second was that Tythra was very careful to leave emotion out of politics. Thus trying to strike at her maternal side was often met with annoyance, and always caught as a manipulation tactic. It wasn’t necessarily something that angered Tythra, after all, she too would pull on her children during speeches as a way to garner empathy and understanding, but it wasn’t anything that worked to her. Not that the captain had any way of knowing this, of course.
Then he spoke of baronies. Tythra did not raise an eyebrow, but she wanted to. Baronies were a lofty goal, especially for a commoner. It was rare that Tythra would award a barony, especially with her satisfaction with those that are currently in charge. Now of course things could change, Tythra wasn’t daft. But the man announced a goal that was incredibly large. It would be easier for him to marry into an established house, or even become a master at something than being awarded his own barony. Tythra didn’t want to say never, after all, people said a woman would never be a senator and look at her. But was his chances high? At this moment, no.
Listing her accomplishments was smart of him. Flattery did always help in politics. This was why Tythra was a stickler for manners. She mastered a smile when all she wanted to do was scowl. She mastered buttery words that veiled deeper meanings. Whether or not she was a true inspiration to him did not matter. He at least said correct things there, and Tythra should be an inspiration. If his goals are so lofty, than why not aspire to be like the one who shattered her own?
His closer tried to sell her. For an off the cuff persuasive speech, it was rather well put together. There were parts that were perhaps a little… overdone. Tythra may be a woman, but she was still a Colchian. Bold, passionate speeches meant to tug at heartstrings simply wasn’t their way. It was also fairly wordy, which with the life Tythra led meant that every second was precious and should not be wasted. With that being said, it wasn’t at all terrible, nor did it draw anger from the Princess. It was… passable.
When he finished, seemingly satisfied with what he said, Tythra merely picked her stylus back up. She wrote down the requisition order and sealed it with the Drakos seal. “Please deliver this to your lieutenant.” was all Tythra said. With the scroll rolled up, she handed it to the captain.
There was not much to say at his declaration. Tythra was in no position to offer him anything. She did not have any positions available, and even if she did she would need more than an emboldened speech for him to be awarded it. She did not feel as if Magnemea could afford to lose its captain. And the man before her would be sailing to Egypt shortly. This very well might be the last time she speaks to him, and she was not going to waste words on a man who might not live so long to remember them.
However, she knew not to leave him feeling deflated. Throw a dog a bone, as they say. “Should I hear great things about you during the war, I will be happy to continue this conversation afterward. I wish you luck, Captain. Do try to avoid a premature trip to Hades.” That would be far too inconvenient for Tythra to suddenly have to replace.
“Now, with that, all cleared up. In summation: Your requisition is in your hand. I will look at the issues you mentioned. Do make sure, as I said, that mining operations do not get interrupted. That, and the protection of the carts, should be your priority. Lastly, should I hear a good word from you during your endeavors in Egypt, I shall allow you the chance to speak with me again and perhaps I shall be able to help… point you in the right direction to fulfill your goals.” A barony? That was absolutely nothing that Tythra could promise. He would need to really impress her, and even then there were a lot of candidates for Tythra to consider. Gods, even Essa should she get married before Imeeya was a possibility. And, as the man said, Princess Tythra’s most prized treasures are her daughters. As the so-called Mother of Dragons, she’d protect her treasure hoard with her life. Making sure her children had power was of her utmost priority.
Now, however, with this meeting taking far longer than Tythra initially anticipated, it was time to wrap things up. She was farther behind schedule than she would like, and with the men departing from Colchis soon she still had many more things to get ready. From an overabundance of senate meetings to discuss the plan, to her meetings with barons, lieutenants, and captains, Tythra had absolutely no time to waste. With a smile and a pointed flourish towards the door, the Princess of Colchis said, “If that is all, Captain, you are dismissed.”
Tythra had asked a question, and what she got back was a speech. Throughout the entirety of it, her face never changed. She never tried to interrupt him. She didn’t even look away. She allowed the man to speak and get all that he had wanted to off his chest.
There was a lot to unpack. As he spoke Tythra made notes. He started with the comment on her children. Now in this Tythra did recognize she was unusual. To most, starting with a point that the speaker and audience have in common is a strong tactic. It is a way to grasp at someone’s emotions from the very start and would be a strong introduction. The problem Tythra had with it was twofold. The first was he failed to make it clear how that ties back to his speech, aside from the fact that he too cares about his family and it is a motivator to him. The second was that Tythra was very careful to leave emotion out of politics. Thus trying to strike at her maternal side was often met with annoyance, and always caught as a manipulation tactic. It wasn’t necessarily something that angered Tythra, after all, she too would pull on her children during speeches as a way to garner empathy and understanding, but it wasn’t anything that worked to her. Not that the captain had any way of knowing this, of course.
Then he spoke of baronies. Tythra did not raise an eyebrow, but she wanted to. Baronies were a lofty goal, especially for a commoner. It was rare that Tythra would award a barony, especially with her satisfaction with those that are currently in charge. Now of course things could change, Tythra wasn’t daft. But the man announced a goal that was incredibly large. It would be easier for him to marry into an established house, or even become a master at something than being awarded his own barony. Tythra didn’t want to say never, after all, people said a woman would never be a senator and look at her. But was his chances high? At this moment, no.
Listing her accomplishments was smart of him. Flattery did always help in politics. This was why Tythra was a stickler for manners. She mastered a smile when all she wanted to do was scowl. She mastered buttery words that veiled deeper meanings. Whether or not she was a true inspiration to him did not matter. He at least said correct things there, and Tythra should be an inspiration. If his goals are so lofty, than why not aspire to be like the one who shattered her own?
His closer tried to sell her. For an off the cuff persuasive speech, it was rather well put together. There were parts that were perhaps a little… overdone. Tythra may be a woman, but she was still a Colchian. Bold, passionate speeches meant to tug at heartstrings simply wasn’t their way. It was also fairly wordy, which with the life Tythra led meant that every second was precious and should not be wasted. With that being said, it wasn’t at all terrible, nor did it draw anger from the Princess. It was… passable.
When he finished, seemingly satisfied with what he said, Tythra merely picked her stylus back up. She wrote down the requisition order and sealed it with the Drakos seal. “Please deliver this to your lieutenant.” was all Tythra said. With the scroll rolled up, she handed it to the captain.
There was not much to say at his declaration. Tythra was in no position to offer him anything. She did not have any positions available, and even if she did she would need more than an emboldened speech for him to be awarded it. She did not feel as if Magnemea could afford to lose its captain. And the man before her would be sailing to Egypt shortly. This very well might be the last time she speaks to him, and she was not going to waste words on a man who might not live so long to remember them.
However, she knew not to leave him feeling deflated. Throw a dog a bone, as they say. “Should I hear great things about you during the war, I will be happy to continue this conversation afterward. I wish you luck, Captain. Do try to avoid a premature trip to Hades.” That would be far too inconvenient for Tythra to suddenly have to replace.
“Now, with that, all cleared up. In summation: Your requisition is in your hand. I will look at the issues you mentioned. Do make sure, as I said, that mining operations do not get interrupted. That, and the protection of the carts, should be your priority. Lastly, should I hear a good word from you during your endeavors in Egypt, I shall allow you the chance to speak with me again and perhaps I shall be able to help… point you in the right direction to fulfill your goals.” A barony? That was absolutely nothing that Tythra could promise. He would need to really impress her, and even then there were a lot of candidates for Tythra to consider. Gods, even Essa should she get married before Imeeya was a possibility. And, as the man said, Princess Tythra’s most prized treasures are her daughters. As the so-called Mother of Dragons, she’d protect her treasure hoard with her life. Making sure her children had power was of her utmost priority.
Now, however, with this meeting taking far longer than Tythra initially anticipated, it was time to wrap things up. She was farther behind schedule than she would like, and with the men departing from Colchis soon she still had many more things to get ready. From an overabundance of senate meetings to discuss the plan, to her meetings with barons, lieutenants, and captains, Tythra had absolutely no time to waste. With a smile and a pointed flourish towards the door, the Princess of Colchis said, “If that is all, Captain, you are dismissed.”