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Well, busier then usual. While he had been up to his eyeballs in work ever since the death of his brother and nephew, where he has had to step in to assist Stephanos in the palati, the prince has now taken even more on his plate ever since the coronation. He had just finished sharing dinner with the Condos lords just a few days ago, and met a few barons from the furthest provinces of Taengea just the day before, and now he found himself on horseback on his way to the Dimitrou residences.
The Dimitrous were a family that, perhaps, Irakles had the least confidence in swaying their vote. Both father and heir to the house would have one vote each, but their values seemed firmly steeped in family and love - both values Irakles did not hold in high esteem within his own life. Yet he would be a fool if he did not try.
As such, the old prince had sent a missive to the lord of the House just a few days prior, and was glad to receive an affirmative reply in return. Leaving it to his steward to arrange a meeting of suitable time for both, reminding Ujarak that it should be at a location Gavriil would feel most comfortable in, somehow Irakles was not surprised when Ujarak told him said location would be at the Dimitrou Archontiko itself.
But he should not berate nor question. So dressed in a semi-fine chiton of purple with gold threads, he had mounted Aeneus and found his way across the capitol of Vasiliadon to the home to the Dimitrou's whenever they were within the capitol. Purposely eschewing his crown to reduce the disparity of rank between them, Irakles was all out in getting Gavriil, and hopefully Iason on his side, although he knew the eldest of the Dimitrou children was likely not within the capitol, with news of him being in Athenia.
Dismounting once he entered the courtyard of the manor, he smiled a congenial smile to the servants, following their lead to the foyer before he settled to wait as the master of the House was being called upon.
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May 23, 2019 11:56:49 GMT
Posted In Endless Game on May 23, 2019 11:56:49 GMT
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Irakles had been busy.
Well, busier then usual. While he had been up to his eyeballs in work ever since the death of his brother and nephew, where he has had to step in to assist Stephanos in the palati, the prince has now taken even more on his plate ever since the coronation. He had just finished sharing dinner with the Condos lords just a few days ago, and met a few barons from the furthest provinces of Taengea just the day before, and now he found himself on horseback on his way to the Dimitrou residences.
The Dimitrous were a family that, perhaps, Irakles had the least confidence in swaying their vote. Both father and heir to the house would have one vote each, but their values seemed firmly steeped in family and love - both values Irakles did not hold in high esteem within his own life. Yet he would be a fool if he did not try.
As such, the old prince had sent a missive to the lord of the House just a few days prior, and was glad to receive an affirmative reply in return. Leaving it to his steward to arrange a meeting of suitable time for both, reminding Ujarak that it should be at a location Gavriil would feel most comfortable in, somehow Irakles was not surprised when Ujarak told him said location would be at the Dimitrou Archontiko itself.
But he should not berate nor question. So dressed in a semi-fine chiton of purple with gold threads, he had mounted Aeneus and found his way across the capitol of Vasiliadon to the home to the Dimitrou's whenever they were within the capitol. Purposely eschewing his crown to reduce the disparity of rank between them, Irakles was all out in getting Gavriil, and hopefully Iason on his side, although he knew the eldest of the Dimitrou children was likely not within the capitol, with news of him being in Athenia.
Dismounting once he entered the courtyard of the manor, he smiled a congenial smile to the servants, following their lead to the foyer before he settled to wait as the master of the House was being called upon.
Irakles had been busy.
Well, busier then usual. While he had been up to his eyeballs in work ever since the death of his brother and nephew, where he has had to step in to assist Stephanos in the palati, the prince has now taken even more on his plate ever since the coronation. He had just finished sharing dinner with the Condos lords just a few days ago, and met a few barons from the furthest provinces of Taengea just the day before, and now he found himself on horseback on his way to the Dimitrou residences.
The Dimitrous were a family that, perhaps, Irakles had the least confidence in swaying their vote. Both father and heir to the house would have one vote each, but their values seemed firmly steeped in family and love - both values Irakles did not hold in high esteem within his own life. Yet he would be a fool if he did not try.
As such, the old prince had sent a missive to the lord of the House just a few days prior, and was glad to receive an affirmative reply in return. Leaving it to his steward to arrange a meeting of suitable time for both, reminding Ujarak that it should be at a location Gavriil would feel most comfortable in, somehow Irakles was not surprised when Ujarak told him said location would be at the Dimitrou Archontiko itself.
But he should not berate nor question. So dressed in a semi-fine chiton of purple with gold threads, he had mounted Aeneus and found his way across the capitol of Vasiliadon to the home to the Dimitrou's whenever they were within the capitol. Purposely eschewing his crown to reduce the disparity of rank between them, Irakles was all out in getting Gavriil, and hopefully Iason on his side, although he knew the eldest of the Dimitrou children was likely not within the capitol, with news of him being in Athenia.
Dismounting once he entered the courtyard of the manor, he smiled a congenial smile to the servants, following their lead to the foyer before he settled to wait as the master of the House was being called upon.
To say he’d been surprised to receive the prince’s missive was an understatement. After all, it was his aunt that the prince was actively spurning with every day he kept his mistress in public view. Gavriil did not look kindly on the idea of mistresses. When a man made the decision to wed, it was a serious step. A commitment. He felt that if Irakles had disliked Myrto so much, he should never have taken her to wife at all. And if in time the love faded, it was the man’s duty to deal with it, and fix it if he could.
The prince was of the Mikaelidas line, though, and that spoke volumes on his level of what ‘decency’ looked like. The Taengean people were rather blessed with their current line of monarchs and that they did oppress the people with heavy taxes nor were they bloodthirsty for war, using up Taengean’s sons unnecessarily. What the royals were not, however, was virtuous. King Zenon had not been known for his faithfulness but King Stephanos was an entity entirely unto himself in that regard.
Gavriil didn’t like to think about it. While he liked the king as a person, he did not in the remotest sense agree with anything the king did in his personal life. But that wasn’t for the baron to comment on. In his opinion, the joining of the power hungry Leventi house with the Mikaelidas one was asking for trouble.
“My Lord, the prince has arrived,” a servant bowed his way into the room, remained bowed through the whole of the speech, and withdrew once Gavriil had given a grunt in indication that he’d heard him. The Vasiliadon servants were always so much more formal than the ones in Meganea. He did not want to have this dinner with Irakles, but he couldn’t think of any good reason to refuse without causing undo offense.
With a self bolstering sigh, he left his study and managed something that could pass for a smile, but Gavriil’s expression was invariably grave most of the time. He wore a chiton of green that was as fine as the one Irakles wore but he did not notice that the prince had dressed down for him. He rarely noticed things like that, however he would have noticed the finery that the prince had forgone. As Irakles had intended, Gavriil was a bit more at ease since they were dressed similarly and not like they were attending a state function.
“Your highness,” he greeted, offering Irakles the bow that was due to his station as he entered the room. “Please. This way.” He gestured further into the house where there was a low table already set with food for them. There was a pitcher of watered down wine and two goblets waiting for them. Gavriil never did anything to excess and the wine was no exception. A bowl of grapes sat ready for them, along with a few rounds of bread and a small jar of honey, set out especially for the prince.
Did Gavriil think Irakles deserved such a luxury? No. Was he going to share it anyway? Of course. It would be rude not to do so.
“To what do I owe this honor?” he asked as he settled onto one of the cushions by the table, looking over at Irakles and trying to gage what this might be about. Gavriil was not skilled in politics and it did not occur to him that Irakles might be up to anything nefarious.
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May 23, 2019 11:58:19 GMT
Posted In Endless Game on May 23, 2019 11:58:19 GMT
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To say he’d been surprised to receive the prince’s missive was an understatement. After all, it was his aunt that the prince was actively spurning with every day he kept his mistress in public view. Gavriil did not look kindly on the idea of mistresses. When a man made the decision to wed, it was a serious step. A commitment. He felt that if Irakles had disliked Myrto so much, he should never have taken her to wife at all. And if in time the love faded, it was the man’s duty to deal with it, and fix it if he could.
The prince was of the Mikaelidas line, though, and that spoke volumes on his level of what ‘decency’ looked like. The Taengean people were rather blessed with their current line of monarchs and that they did oppress the people with heavy taxes nor were they bloodthirsty for war, using up Taengean’s sons unnecessarily. What the royals were not, however, was virtuous. King Zenon had not been known for his faithfulness but King Stephanos was an entity entirely unto himself in that regard.
Gavriil didn’t like to think about it. While he liked the king as a person, he did not in the remotest sense agree with anything the king did in his personal life. But that wasn’t for the baron to comment on. In his opinion, the joining of the power hungry Leventi house with the Mikaelidas one was asking for trouble.
“My Lord, the prince has arrived,” a servant bowed his way into the room, remained bowed through the whole of the speech, and withdrew once Gavriil had given a grunt in indication that he’d heard him. The Vasiliadon servants were always so much more formal than the ones in Meganea. He did not want to have this dinner with Irakles, but he couldn’t think of any good reason to refuse without causing undo offense.
With a self bolstering sigh, he left his study and managed something that could pass for a smile, but Gavriil’s expression was invariably grave most of the time. He wore a chiton of green that was as fine as the one Irakles wore but he did not notice that the prince had dressed down for him. He rarely noticed things like that, however he would have noticed the finery that the prince had forgone. As Irakles had intended, Gavriil was a bit more at ease since they were dressed similarly and not like they were attending a state function.
“Your highness,” he greeted, offering Irakles the bow that was due to his station as he entered the room. “Please. This way.” He gestured further into the house where there was a low table already set with food for them. There was a pitcher of watered down wine and two goblets waiting for them. Gavriil never did anything to excess and the wine was no exception. A bowl of grapes sat ready for them, along with a few rounds of bread and a small jar of honey, set out especially for the prince.
Did Gavriil think Irakles deserved such a luxury? No. Was he going to share it anyway? Of course. It would be rude not to do so.
“To what do I owe this honor?” he asked as he settled onto one of the cushions by the table, looking over at Irakles and trying to gage what this might be about. Gavriil was not skilled in politics and it did not occur to him that Irakles might be up to anything nefarious.
To say he’d been surprised to receive the prince’s missive was an understatement. After all, it was his aunt that the prince was actively spurning with every day he kept his mistress in public view. Gavriil did not look kindly on the idea of mistresses. When a man made the decision to wed, it was a serious step. A commitment. He felt that if Irakles had disliked Myrto so much, he should never have taken her to wife at all. And if in time the love faded, it was the man’s duty to deal with it, and fix it if he could.
The prince was of the Mikaelidas line, though, and that spoke volumes on his level of what ‘decency’ looked like. The Taengean people were rather blessed with their current line of monarchs and that they did oppress the people with heavy taxes nor were they bloodthirsty for war, using up Taengean’s sons unnecessarily. What the royals were not, however, was virtuous. King Zenon had not been known for his faithfulness but King Stephanos was an entity entirely unto himself in that regard.
Gavriil didn’t like to think about it. While he liked the king as a person, he did not in the remotest sense agree with anything the king did in his personal life. But that wasn’t for the baron to comment on. In his opinion, the joining of the power hungry Leventi house with the Mikaelidas one was asking for trouble.
“My Lord, the prince has arrived,” a servant bowed his way into the room, remained bowed through the whole of the speech, and withdrew once Gavriil had given a grunt in indication that he’d heard him. The Vasiliadon servants were always so much more formal than the ones in Meganea. He did not want to have this dinner with Irakles, but he couldn’t think of any good reason to refuse without causing undo offense.
With a self bolstering sigh, he left his study and managed something that could pass for a smile, but Gavriil’s expression was invariably grave most of the time. He wore a chiton of green that was as fine as the one Irakles wore but he did not notice that the prince had dressed down for him. He rarely noticed things like that, however he would have noticed the finery that the prince had forgone. As Irakles had intended, Gavriil was a bit more at ease since they were dressed similarly and not like they were attending a state function.
“Your highness,” he greeted, offering Irakles the bow that was due to his station as he entered the room. “Please. This way.” He gestured further into the house where there was a low table already set with food for them. There was a pitcher of watered down wine and two goblets waiting for them. Gavriil never did anything to excess and the wine was no exception. A bowl of grapes sat ready for them, along with a few rounds of bread and a small jar of honey, set out especially for the prince.
Did Gavriil think Irakles deserved such a luxury? No. Was he going to share it anyway? Of course. It would be rude not to do so.
“To what do I owe this honor?” he asked as he settled onto one of the cushions by the table, looking over at Irakles and trying to gage what this might be about. Gavriil was not skilled in politics and it did not occur to him that Irakles might be up to anything nefarious.
Lord Gavriil of Dimitrou was an anomaly in the ranks of nobility. Not concerned with status or rank, a fallen royal House by any means, yet he and his offspring seemed unconcerned by their fall in rank, and instead looked quite content in where life has dropped them in. And it was that part that Irakles did not understand. For a family as old and respected as the Dynasteia of Dimitrou, how could Gavriil merely sit back and watch as his nephew may or may not run the kingdom to the ground?
But then again, this was old man Gavriil they spoke of. Well known among men as someone whose opinion is firmly of his own, and not someone easily swayed by the chatter of others, Irakles knew he had a long game to play, and sought danger merely by inviting the man to dinner. The fact that he was married to Gavriil's aunt (and everyone knew of the unspoken secret of how Myrto was now staying with her eldest son while Irakles housed his very own mistress in the Mikaelidas mansion), simply did not help matters.
Yet the prince had to try. His plans hinged on many, and while the Dimitrou leader's vote should not sway the decision by much... he had to try.
Banking on the fact that Gavriil himself was a man virtuous and a believer of the sanctity of marriage, he had a gameplan as he was invited into the Dimitrou household. His smile was polite, friendly even, as he made his way in, and was greeted by the man in question himself. The prince was quick to give a casual wave of hands, chuckling as he followed Gavriil's lead into the area where food was set. "Do away with the formalities, really. We're not in court, Lord Gavriil." he murmured. Despite his status, and many who thought of him of royal-birth, Irakles was not... power hungry, per say. Whether he was addressed as 'Your Higness' mattered little to him.
What did matter, was the future of his kingdom, much more then anyone could imagine.
Settling into a cushion opposing Gavriil, the prince gave a polite smile to the servant who filled their chalices of the watered down wine, nodding and waiting till they left before turning is gaze back to Gavriil. Friendly as his smile was however, his posture showed that Irakles had serious matters as he cleared his throat, before speaking. "I'm sure you've heard, my Lord, that I have been speaking to others within our kingdom. I did not want to be remiss in not seeking your counsel." he paused, as if seeking out the proper words in uncertain terms, before continuing. "You see, I simply wondered if... ah, if you... had any opinions on the position of my nephew as King, for now? I am, of course, happy to answer any questions you would have regarding his actions. I am now residing in the palati under the request of the Queen Mother to assist him in his daily tasks." It was a subtle, intended insert of his duties - for how could a King, need help from his old uncle? That in itself, Irakles hoped, would instill the first senses of doubt in the Dimitrou lord.
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May 23, 2019 11:58:39 GMT
Posted In Endless Game on May 23, 2019 11:58:39 GMT
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Lord Gavriil of Dimitrou was an anomaly in the ranks of nobility. Not concerned with status or rank, a fallen royal House by any means, yet he and his offspring seemed unconcerned by their fall in rank, and instead looked quite content in where life has dropped them in. And it was that part that Irakles did not understand. For a family as old and respected as the Dynasteia of Dimitrou, how could Gavriil merely sit back and watch as his nephew may or may not run the kingdom to the ground?
But then again, this was old man Gavriil they spoke of. Well known among men as someone whose opinion is firmly of his own, and not someone easily swayed by the chatter of others, Irakles knew he had a long game to play, and sought danger merely by inviting the man to dinner. The fact that he was married to Gavriil's aunt (and everyone knew of the unspoken secret of how Myrto was now staying with her eldest son while Irakles housed his very own mistress in the Mikaelidas mansion), simply did not help matters.
Yet the prince had to try. His plans hinged on many, and while the Dimitrou leader's vote should not sway the decision by much... he had to try.
Banking on the fact that Gavriil himself was a man virtuous and a believer of the sanctity of marriage, he had a gameplan as he was invited into the Dimitrou household. His smile was polite, friendly even, as he made his way in, and was greeted by the man in question himself. The prince was quick to give a casual wave of hands, chuckling as he followed Gavriil's lead into the area where food was set. "Do away with the formalities, really. We're not in court, Lord Gavriil." he murmured. Despite his status, and many who thought of him of royal-birth, Irakles was not... power hungry, per say. Whether he was addressed as 'Your Higness' mattered little to him.
What did matter, was the future of his kingdom, much more then anyone could imagine.
Settling into a cushion opposing Gavriil, the prince gave a polite smile to the servant who filled their chalices of the watered down wine, nodding and waiting till they left before turning is gaze back to Gavriil. Friendly as his smile was however, his posture showed that Irakles had serious matters as he cleared his throat, before speaking. "I'm sure you've heard, my Lord, that I have been speaking to others within our kingdom. I did not want to be remiss in not seeking your counsel." he paused, as if seeking out the proper words in uncertain terms, before continuing. "You see, I simply wondered if... ah, if you... had any opinions on the position of my nephew as King, for now? I am, of course, happy to answer any questions you would have regarding his actions. I am now residing in the palati under the request of the Queen Mother to assist him in his daily tasks." It was a subtle, intended insert of his duties - for how could a King, need help from his old uncle? That in itself, Irakles hoped, would instill the first senses of doubt in the Dimitrou lord.
Lord Gavriil of Dimitrou was an anomaly in the ranks of nobility. Not concerned with status or rank, a fallen royal House by any means, yet he and his offspring seemed unconcerned by their fall in rank, and instead looked quite content in where life has dropped them in. And it was that part that Irakles did not understand. For a family as old and respected as the Dynasteia of Dimitrou, how could Gavriil merely sit back and watch as his nephew may or may not run the kingdom to the ground?
But then again, this was old man Gavriil they spoke of. Well known among men as someone whose opinion is firmly of his own, and not someone easily swayed by the chatter of others, Irakles knew he had a long game to play, and sought danger merely by inviting the man to dinner. The fact that he was married to Gavriil's aunt (and everyone knew of the unspoken secret of how Myrto was now staying with her eldest son while Irakles housed his very own mistress in the Mikaelidas mansion), simply did not help matters.
Yet the prince had to try. His plans hinged on many, and while the Dimitrou leader's vote should not sway the decision by much... he had to try.
Banking on the fact that Gavriil himself was a man virtuous and a believer of the sanctity of marriage, he had a gameplan as he was invited into the Dimitrou household. His smile was polite, friendly even, as he made his way in, and was greeted by the man in question himself. The prince was quick to give a casual wave of hands, chuckling as he followed Gavriil's lead into the area where food was set. "Do away with the formalities, really. We're not in court, Lord Gavriil." he murmured. Despite his status, and many who thought of him of royal-birth, Irakles was not... power hungry, per say. Whether he was addressed as 'Your Higness' mattered little to him.
What did matter, was the future of his kingdom, much more then anyone could imagine.
Settling into a cushion opposing Gavriil, the prince gave a polite smile to the servant who filled their chalices of the watered down wine, nodding and waiting till they left before turning is gaze back to Gavriil. Friendly as his smile was however, his posture showed that Irakles had serious matters as he cleared his throat, before speaking. "I'm sure you've heard, my Lord, that I have been speaking to others within our kingdom. I did not want to be remiss in not seeking your counsel." he paused, as if seeking out the proper words in uncertain terms, before continuing. "You see, I simply wondered if... ah, if you... had any opinions on the position of my nephew as King, for now? I am, of course, happy to answer any questions you would have regarding his actions. I am now residing in the palati under the request of the Queen Mother to assist him in his daily tasks." It was a subtle, intended insert of his duties - for how could a King, need help from his old uncle? That in itself, Irakles hoped, would instill the first senses of doubt in the Dimitrou lord.
Gavriil gave him a grave smile when the prince requested they do away with formalities but said nothing in response. As soon as he turned around, the smile vanished and his eyes wandered the table before them. The cushion he’d settled on was not the one he normally took. Though the house they were in was his, he’d left the head of the table open for his guest; a thing he would not have done for someone of equal or lower rank. But here, Irakles surprised him by ignoring the place and taking the one opposite, so that they were facing each other like equals.
Gavriil found himself a little out of sorts because the prince wasn’t doing anything he’d expected him to do. All of this was wholly out of character for the showy son of the Mikaelidas house. A servant came and filled their chalices, but still, neither man said anything of import until they were alone. Since it was Irakles who’d issued the invitation, the baron of Maganea was perfectly content to wait until the prince broached whatever subject he’d wanted to talk about.
Though Gavriil was not adept at courtly matters or ways, he wasn’t an idiot. He guessed that this was not a social call and was more of a business sort of proceeding. After all, he and Irakles were not friends and were not likely to be. There were a few things he respected about the retired general, but more that he did not.
He motioned without any of the fine grace of the man across from him to start eating. “Please,” he said a bit gruffer than he meant. Though Irakles had said to drop the formalities, Gavriil didn’t touch his food until Irakles had taken the first bite of his own. Only then did Gavriil feel that it was right that he should begin eating too. He took the opportunity to be more interested in his food than his guest and only flicked up his eyes when it was bordering on impolite not to do so.
At last, Irakles cleared his throat and began to speak. Gavriil kept up his passively polite routine of chewing and listening when all of a sudden he glanced up and then looked around as though Stephanos or maybe one of the spies for the royal house was in the room. He put down his bread, not liking at all where this was going.
He didn’t like conversations like this. The usual topics of conversation could easily swing into treasonous territory; a place he wanted very much to stay away from. “I have no questions at present, your highness,” he said in a slow, measured tone. Though, he was curious…
“If I may ask, why has the dowager queen asked for you to move in?”
The last time he’d laid eyes on the king, or Irakles for that matter, was on the day that they’d all gone into battle against the Creed. But he’d left the capital right after and had gone home. Now he was back and woefully out of the loop on what was happening with the royal palati and everything else.
It was very strange for Queen Elise to want Prince Irakles in the palati. Didn’t the prince have his own house? His own mistress to attend to? And his bastard daughters? Or were they there as well? It was all very strange...
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May 23, 2019 11:59:02 GMT
Posted In Endless Game on May 23, 2019 11:59:02 GMT
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Gavriil gave him a grave smile when the prince requested they do away with formalities but said nothing in response. As soon as he turned around, the smile vanished and his eyes wandered the table before them. The cushion he’d settled on was not the one he normally took. Though the house they were in was his, he’d left the head of the table open for his guest; a thing he would not have done for someone of equal or lower rank. But here, Irakles surprised him by ignoring the place and taking the one opposite, so that they were facing each other like equals.
Gavriil found himself a little out of sorts because the prince wasn’t doing anything he’d expected him to do. All of this was wholly out of character for the showy son of the Mikaelidas house. A servant came and filled their chalices, but still, neither man said anything of import until they were alone. Since it was Irakles who’d issued the invitation, the baron of Maganea was perfectly content to wait until the prince broached whatever subject he’d wanted to talk about.
Though Gavriil was not adept at courtly matters or ways, he wasn’t an idiot. He guessed that this was not a social call and was more of a business sort of proceeding. After all, he and Irakles were not friends and were not likely to be. There were a few things he respected about the retired general, but more that he did not.
He motioned without any of the fine grace of the man across from him to start eating. “Please,” he said a bit gruffer than he meant. Though Irakles had said to drop the formalities, Gavriil didn’t touch his food until Irakles had taken the first bite of his own. Only then did Gavriil feel that it was right that he should begin eating too. He took the opportunity to be more interested in his food than his guest and only flicked up his eyes when it was bordering on impolite not to do so.
At last, Irakles cleared his throat and began to speak. Gavriil kept up his passively polite routine of chewing and listening when all of a sudden he glanced up and then looked around as though Stephanos or maybe one of the spies for the royal house was in the room. He put down his bread, not liking at all where this was going.
He didn’t like conversations like this. The usual topics of conversation could easily swing into treasonous territory; a place he wanted very much to stay away from. “I have no questions at present, your highness,” he said in a slow, measured tone. Though, he was curious…
“If I may ask, why has the dowager queen asked for you to move in?”
The last time he’d laid eyes on the king, or Irakles for that matter, was on the day that they’d all gone into battle against the Creed. But he’d left the capital right after and had gone home. Now he was back and woefully out of the loop on what was happening with the royal palati and everything else.
It was very strange for Queen Elise to want Prince Irakles in the palati. Didn’t the prince have his own house? His own mistress to attend to? And his bastard daughters? Or were they there as well? It was all very strange...
Gavriil gave him a grave smile when the prince requested they do away with formalities but said nothing in response. As soon as he turned around, the smile vanished and his eyes wandered the table before them. The cushion he’d settled on was not the one he normally took. Though the house they were in was his, he’d left the head of the table open for his guest; a thing he would not have done for someone of equal or lower rank. But here, Irakles surprised him by ignoring the place and taking the one opposite, so that they were facing each other like equals.
Gavriil found himself a little out of sorts because the prince wasn’t doing anything he’d expected him to do. All of this was wholly out of character for the showy son of the Mikaelidas house. A servant came and filled their chalices, but still, neither man said anything of import until they were alone. Since it was Irakles who’d issued the invitation, the baron of Maganea was perfectly content to wait until the prince broached whatever subject he’d wanted to talk about.
Though Gavriil was not adept at courtly matters or ways, he wasn’t an idiot. He guessed that this was not a social call and was more of a business sort of proceeding. After all, he and Irakles were not friends and were not likely to be. There were a few things he respected about the retired general, but more that he did not.
He motioned without any of the fine grace of the man across from him to start eating. “Please,” he said a bit gruffer than he meant. Though Irakles had said to drop the formalities, Gavriil didn’t touch his food until Irakles had taken the first bite of his own. Only then did Gavriil feel that it was right that he should begin eating too. He took the opportunity to be more interested in his food than his guest and only flicked up his eyes when it was bordering on impolite not to do so.
At last, Irakles cleared his throat and began to speak. Gavriil kept up his passively polite routine of chewing and listening when all of a sudden he glanced up and then looked around as though Stephanos or maybe one of the spies for the royal house was in the room. He put down his bread, not liking at all where this was going.
He didn’t like conversations like this. The usual topics of conversation could easily swing into treasonous territory; a place he wanted very much to stay away from. “I have no questions at present, your highness,” he said in a slow, measured tone. Though, he was curious…
“If I may ask, why has the dowager queen asked for you to move in?”
The last time he’d laid eyes on the king, or Irakles for that matter, was on the day that they’d all gone into battle against the Creed. But he’d left the capital right after and had gone home. Now he was back and woefully out of the loop on what was happening with the royal palati and everything else.
It was very strange for Queen Elise to want Prince Irakles in the palati. Didn’t the prince have his own house? His own mistress to attend to? And his bastard daughters? Or were they there as well? It was all very strange...
The Dimitrou lord had never entirely been a 'friend', or even an ally really, to Irakles. Of that, the prince was not blind. But what he was betting on was, even if Lord Gavriil held little respect for Irakles as a person, that he would still have the best interests of Taengea at heart. If nothing at all, the Dimitrou line is one of the older Dynasteia's in the kingdom, and were one of those who he knew had loyal barons and lords to the crown and to the wellbeing of the kingdom. As such, every move of Irakles was calculated, all to ensure the lord was given a sense of ease, and not feel the difference in rank.
Sharp eyes watched the Dimitrou lord as they slowly started on the food, Irakles merely sipping on the watered down wine, his eyes peering over the edge of the chalice. Wincing as it went down his drier then usual throat (Meena would have his usual tonic for him when he returned),the man only spoke after an appropriate amount of time had passed for them to be politely enjoying the repast provided by Gavriil.
The man's slow, measured way of asking had Irakles thinking again - has he not gained his trust? But of course he hadn't, how long had he arrived here, barely close to half an hour, and he's got quite some ways to go, especially to someone who was a relative of his estranged wife.
To the lord, he paused in his act of picking up the wine chalice, and then retracted his hand in what would appear to Gavriil as a deeply thoughtful look, allowing the silence to stretch for a short period of time before he spoke up.
"My sister-in-law has been... ah, I shall say worried, over the state of my nephew." Irakles started, his words slow as if he was trying to think of a way to phrase it that would not paint the royal family in a bad light. "King Stephanos is young yet, and untrained in manners to run a kingdom. He had never been trained as his brother, the late Crown Prince has." It was a subtle reminder to Gavriil that unlike Zacharias, Stephanos had never had the training to run a barony, which most heirs and sons would get, before they took over as Head of a House, or leader of a Kingdom. Stephanos has technically been unceremoniously tossed into a role that he's had no background of - and a role where stakes are high, with many, many people's livelihood and lives in general at stake.
"I have since handed some of my duties over to my eldest while I assist our new King." he paused, and then averted his eyes as if he was avoiding something, a wry chuckle escaping his cracking lips. "Of course, the idea is easier said then done." Cryptic, not too revealing, but just enough to pique interest.
You can't say the man didn't try.
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The Dimitrou lord had never entirely been a 'friend', or even an ally really, to Irakles. Of that, the prince was not blind. But what he was betting on was, even if Lord Gavriil held little respect for Irakles as a person, that he would still have the best interests of Taengea at heart. If nothing at all, the Dimitrou line is one of the older Dynasteia's in the kingdom, and were one of those who he knew had loyal barons and lords to the crown and to the wellbeing of the kingdom. As such, every move of Irakles was calculated, all to ensure the lord was given a sense of ease, and not feel the difference in rank.
Sharp eyes watched the Dimitrou lord as they slowly started on the food, Irakles merely sipping on the watered down wine, his eyes peering over the edge of the chalice. Wincing as it went down his drier then usual throat (Meena would have his usual tonic for him when he returned),the man only spoke after an appropriate amount of time had passed for them to be politely enjoying the repast provided by Gavriil.
The man's slow, measured way of asking had Irakles thinking again - has he not gained his trust? But of course he hadn't, how long had he arrived here, barely close to half an hour, and he's got quite some ways to go, especially to someone who was a relative of his estranged wife.
To the lord, he paused in his act of picking up the wine chalice, and then retracted his hand in what would appear to Gavriil as a deeply thoughtful look, allowing the silence to stretch for a short period of time before he spoke up.
"My sister-in-law has been... ah, I shall say worried, over the state of my nephew." Irakles started, his words slow as if he was trying to think of a way to phrase it that would not paint the royal family in a bad light. "King Stephanos is young yet, and untrained in manners to run a kingdom. He had never been trained as his brother, the late Crown Prince has." It was a subtle reminder to Gavriil that unlike Zacharias, Stephanos had never had the training to run a barony, which most heirs and sons would get, before they took over as Head of a House, or leader of a Kingdom. Stephanos has technically been unceremoniously tossed into a role that he's had no background of - and a role where stakes are high, with many, many people's livelihood and lives in general at stake.
"I have since handed some of my duties over to my eldest while I assist our new King." he paused, and then averted his eyes as if he was avoiding something, a wry chuckle escaping his cracking lips. "Of course, the idea is easier said then done." Cryptic, not too revealing, but just enough to pique interest.
You can't say the man didn't try.
The Dimitrou lord had never entirely been a 'friend', or even an ally really, to Irakles. Of that, the prince was not blind. But what he was betting on was, even if Lord Gavriil held little respect for Irakles as a person, that he would still have the best interests of Taengea at heart. If nothing at all, the Dimitrou line is one of the older Dynasteia's in the kingdom, and were one of those who he knew had loyal barons and lords to the crown and to the wellbeing of the kingdom. As such, every move of Irakles was calculated, all to ensure the lord was given a sense of ease, and not feel the difference in rank.
Sharp eyes watched the Dimitrou lord as they slowly started on the food, Irakles merely sipping on the watered down wine, his eyes peering over the edge of the chalice. Wincing as it went down his drier then usual throat (Meena would have his usual tonic for him when he returned),the man only spoke after an appropriate amount of time had passed for them to be politely enjoying the repast provided by Gavriil.
The man's slow, measured way of asking had Irakles thinking again - has he not gained his trust? But of course he hadn't, how long had he arrived here, barely close to half an hour, and he's got quite some ways to go, especially to someone who was a relative of his estranged wife.
To the lord, he paused in his act of picking up the wine chalice, and then retracted his hand in what would appear to Gavriil as a deeply thoughtful look, allowing the silence to stretch for a short period of time before he spoke up.
"My sister-in-law has been... ah, I shall say worried, over the state of my nephew." Irakles started, his words slow as if he was trying to think of a way to phrase it that would not paint the royal family in a bad light. "King Stephanos is young yet, and untrained in manners to run a kingdom. He had never been trained as his brother, the late Crown Prince has." It was a subtle reminder to Gavriil that unlike Zacharias, Stephanos had never had the training to run a barony, which most heirs and sons would get, before they took over as Head of a House, or leader of a Kingdom. Stephanos has technically been unceremoniously tossed into a role that he's had no background of - and a role where stakes are high, with many, many people's livelihood and lives in general at stake.
"I have since handed some of my duties over to my eldest while I assist our new King." he paused, and then averted his eyes as if he was avoiding something, a wry chuckle escaping his cracking lips. "Of course, the idea is easier said then done." Cryptic, not too revealing, but just enough to pique interest.
You can't say the man didn't try.
Gavriil frowned at Irakles’s wince but said nothing. His mind didn’t immediately jump to illness. Perhaps the wine was not to the prince’s liking. Or perhaps the prince was simply making an odd facial tick. Who was to say? Rather than comment or conjecture out loud about it though, to get an answer, the baron remained completely silent. He’d have rathered to be dragged through the streets by horses than ask something invasive that might turn out to be nothing at all.
When Irakles appeared to be giving real thought to the question, Gavriil leaned back on the low couch, his hands resting on his knees. As Irakles mentioned that the dowager queen was worried over the king, Gavriil sat forward, frowning and interrupting with, “The king’s health isn’t failing, surely?” But he soon learned the king wasn’t sick. It was much worse if Irakles was to be believed.
Surely the king did not need as much help as Irakles was insinuating? The man was a general and thirty three years old besides. Iason was running his own barony and he had a year less or more on the king. Though, a kingdom was quite a bit different than a barony…
“I notice you said the dowager queen. What does the king think of your help?” He’d met Stephanos on many occasions. Mostly when he’d been a young man and had come hunting with his cousins. They often stayed at the Dimitrou estate for that purpose. The king had struck Gavriil as quite capable and easily able to learn. This kind of help from the prince suggested there was serious trouble and much more that Irakles wasn’t revealing.
“If he is not now, I’m sure the king will be grateful later for your help…and what idea is easier? The handing over the reigns to your son?” Not giving Irakles much time to answer back, Gavriil smiled for real and waved a hand at the man across from him. “It is a little hard to give up control to the young but it is better this way, really. I handed Iason his duty at the appropriate age and he’s done splendidly. Of course there were times I had to step it but it’s gotten less and less. I haven’t had to for a few years now.”
His smile faded a bit as he thought of what was going on at his barony. It wouldn’t do to reveal their visitor and not many people had even known that Iason had gone, let alone come back. His son wasn’t huge in the court and they hadn’t spread it around that he was to marry the queen of Athenia, in case something went wrong. That was now a very, very good thing.
“What you’re suggesting is troubling, your highness, I confess…”
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Gavriil frowned at Irakles’s wince but said nothing. His mind didn’t immediately jump to illness. Perhaps the wine was not to the prince’s liking. Or perhaps the prince was simply making an odd facial tick. Who was to say? Rather than comment or conjecture out loud about it though, to get an answer, the baron remained completely silent. He’d have rathered to be dragged through the streets by horses than ask something invasive that might turn out to be nothing at all.
When Irakles appeared to be giving real thought to the question, Gavriil leaned back on the low couch, his hands resting on his knees. As Irakles mentioned that the dowager queen was worried over the king, Gavriil sat forward, frowning and interrupting with, “The king’s health isn’t failing, surely?” But he soon learned the king wasn’t sick. It was much worse if Irakles was to be believed.
Surely the king did not need as much help as Irakles was insinuating? The man was a general and thirty three years old besides. Iason was running his own barony and he had a year less or more on the king. Though, a kingdom was quite a bit different than a barony…
“I notice you said the dowager queen. What does the king think of your help?” He’d met Stephanos on many occasions. Mostly when he’d been a young man and had come hunting with his cousins. They often stayed at the Dimitrou estate for that purpose. The king had struck Gavriil as quite capable and easily able to learn. This kind of help from the prince suggested there was serious trouble and much more that Irakles wasn’t revealing.
“If he is not now, I’m sure the king will be grateful later for your help…and what idea is easier? The handing over the reigns to your son?” Not giving Irakles much time to answer back, Gavriil smiled for real and waved a hand at the man across from him. “It is a little hard to give up control to the young but it is better this way, really. I handed Iason his duty at the appropriate age and he’s done splendidly. Of course there were times I had to step it but it’s gotten less and less. I haven’t had to for a few years now.”
His smile faded a bit as he thought of what was going on at his barony. It wouldn’t do to reveal their visitor and not many people had even known that Iason had gone, let alone come back. His son wasn’t huge in the court and they hadn’t spread it around that he was to marry the queen of Athenia, in case something went wrong. That was now a very, very good thing.
“What you’re suggesting is troubling, your highness, I confess…”
Gavriil frowned at Irakles’s wince but said nothing. His mind didn’t immediately jump to illness. Perhaps the wine was not to the prince’s liking. Or perhaps the prince was simply making an odd facial tick. Who was to say? Rather than comment or conjecture out loud about it though, to get an answer, the baron remained completely silent. He’d have rathered to be dragged through the streets by horses than ask something invasive that might turn out to be nothing at all.
When Irakles appeared to be giving real thought to the question, Gavriil leaned back on the low couch, his hands resting on his knees. As Irakles mentioned that the dowager queen was worried over the king, Gavriil sat forward, frowning and interrupting with, “The king’s health isn’t failing, surely?” But he soon learned the king wasn’t sick. It was much worse if Irakles was to be believed.
Surely the king did not need as much help as Irakles was insinuating? The man was a general and thirty three years old besides. Iason was running his own barony and he had a year less or more on the king. Though, a kingdom was quite a bit different than a barony…
“I notice you said the dowager queen. What does the king think of your help?” He’d met Stephanos on many occasions. Mostly when he’d been a young man and had come hunting with his cousins. They often stayed at the Dimitrou estate for that purpose. The king had struck Gavriil as quite capable and easily able to learn. This kind of help from the prince suggested there was serious trouble and much more that Irakles wasn’t revealing.
“If he is not now, I’m sure the king will be grateful later for your help…and what idea is easier? The handing over the reigns to your son?” Not giving Irakles much time to answer back, Gavriil smiled for real and waved a hand at the man across from him. “It is a little hard to give up control to the young but it is better this way, really. I handed Iason his duty at the appropriate age and he’s done splendidly. Of course there were times I had to step it but it’s gotten less and less. I haven’t had to for a few years now.”
His smile faded a bit as he thought of what was going on at his barony. It wouldn’t do to reveal their visitor and not many people had even known that Iason had gone, let alone come back. His son wasn’t huge in the court and they hadn’t spread it around that he was to marry the queen of Athenia, in case something went wrong. That was now a very, very good thing.
“What you’re suggesting is troubling, your highness, I confess…”
A flicker of surprise shone in his dark eyes at Gavriil's question - did it appear as if Stephanos had a failing health? Rudimentary as his plan was, his nephew had just devised and led a military attack on where the Creed had taken up residence in the gorge. Irakles hoped that would be a good indication of whether or not the young leader was ill - but to Gavriil, he merely shook his head, denying the statement with no words.
It was the following question however, that put Irakles in a difficult spot. Wearing a hesitant smile, he intentionally averted his eyes to put on what would appear to be an uncertain look, as if he didn't want to say, but had no other option in his next choice of words. "My nephew.... The King is less then pleased. I think my nephew simply needs time to adjust to change? I do not blame him, he has just lost his father and brother in one fell swoop." Irakles tacked on the last part in a hurried manner, as if trying to defend the young leader. "It does put me in a difficult position however, for I simply want to ensure nothing goes wrong at the start of his lead." At the very least, Irakles's loyalty to the wellbeing and greatness of Taengea was not to be questioned.
Whether that loyalty extended to Stephanos or not, Gavriil did not need to know. Their focus was for the benefit of their kingdom, and only the kingdom.
Nodding when the Dimitrou lord stated that Stephanos would be grateful at a late date, he gave the man a hopeful smile, sipping at the watered down wine again to soothe his parched throat. Shaking his head, the old general chuckled, before clarifying once the other was done, "Ah no. It is the assisting part that is easier said then done. As I've said, King Stephanos is.... I think he may just be having a hard time adjusting, and as such does not take my suggestions easily. I do agree that it is better, for they are to be the leaders of our future Kingdom, and us old men should just sit and allow them to learn... but occasionally, the costs does outweigh the benefit."
Sitting up straighter, he nodded again, in commiseration of what Gavriil had said - what Irakles wished he would say, of course. "It is, I agree. I hope that within now and the Senate meet to happen in a few weeks, my nephew would have found his middle ground in all his new duties. Of course, I hope to assist him as best as I can, but if such a manner cannot be solved by the time... I was thinking if I should consider a backup plan for the time being? There is much at stake." he reminded towards the end. And it as true, this much anyway. The whole kingdom was at stake, too much for it all to be sacrificed for one little king's learning curve.
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A flicker of surprise shone in his dark eyes at Gavriil's question - did it appear as if Stephanos had a failing health? Rudimentary as his plan was, his nephew had just devised and led a military attack on where the Creed had taken up residence in the gorge. Irakles hoped that would be a good indication of whether or not the young leader was ill - but to Gavriil, he merely shook his head, denying the statement with no words.
It was the following question however, that put Irakles in a difficult spot. Wearing a hesitant smile, he intentionally averted his eyes to put on what would appear to be an uncertain look, as if he didn't want to say, but had no other option in his next choice of words. "My nephew.... The King is less then pleased. I think my nephew simply needs time to adjust to change? I do not blame him, he has just lost his father and brother in one fell swoop." Irakles tacked on the last part in a hurried manner, as if trying to defend the young leader. "It does put me in a difficult position however, for I simply want to ensure nothing goes wrong at the start of his lead." At the very least, Irakles's loyalty to the wellbeing and greatness of Taengea was not to be questioned.
Whether that loyalty extended to Stephanos or not, Gavriil did not need to know. Their focus was for the benefit of their kingdom, and only the kingdom.
Nodding when the Dimitrou lord stated that Stephanos would be grateful at a late date, he gave the man a hopeful smile, sipping at the watered down wine again to soothe his parched throat. Shaking his head, the old general chuckled, before clarifying once the other was done, "Ah no. It is the assisting part that is easier said then done. As I've said, King Stephanos is.... I think he may just be having a hard time adjusting, and as such does not take my suggestions easily. I do agree that it is better, for they are to be the leaders of our future Kingdom, and us old men should just sit and allow them to learn... but occasionally, the costs does outweigh the benefit."
Sitting up straighter, he nodded again, in commiseration of what Gavriil had said - what Irakles wished he would say, of course. "It is, I agree. I hope that within now and the Senate meet to happen in a few weeks, my nephew would have found his middle ground in all his new duties. Of course, I hope to assist him as best as I can, but if such a manner cannot be solved by the time... I was thinking if I should consider a backup plan for the time being? There is much at stake." he reminded towards the end. And it as true, this much anyway. The whole kingdom was at stake, too much for it all to be sacrificed for one little king's learning curve.
A flicker of surprise shone in his dark eyes at Gavriil's question - did it appear as if Stephanos had a failing health? Rudimentary as his plan was, his nephew had just devised and led a military attack on where the Creed had taken up residence in the gorge. Irakles hoped that would be a good indication of whether or not the young leader was ill - but to Gavriil, he merely shook his head, denying the statement with no words.
It was the following question however, that put Irakles in a difficult spot. Wearing a hesitant smile, he intentionally averted his eyes to put on what would appear to be an uncertain look, as if he didn't want to say, but had no other option in his next choice of words. "My nephew.... The King is less then pleased. I think my nephew simply needs time to adjust to change? I do not blame him, he has just lost his father and brother in one fell swoop." Irakles tacked on the last part in a hurried manner, as if trying to defend the young leader. "It does put me in a difficult position however, for I simply want to ensure nothing goes wrong at the start of his lead." At the very least, Irakles's loyalty to the wellbeing and greatness of Taengea was not to be questioned.
Whether that loyalty extended to Stephanos or not, Gavriil did not need to know. Their focus was for the benefit of their kingdom, and only the kingdom.
Nodding when the Dimitrou lord stated that Stephanos would be grateful at a late date, he gave the man a hopeful smile, sipping at the watered down wine again to soothe his parched throat. Shaking his head, the old general chuckled, before clarifying once the other was done, "Ah no. It is the assisting part that is easier said then done. As I've said, King Stephanos is.... I think he may just be having a hard time adjusting, and as such does not take my suggestions easily. I do agree that it is better, for they are to be the leaders of our future Kingdom, and us old men should just sit and allow them to learn... but occasionally, the costs does outweigh the benefit."
Sitting up straighter, he nodded again, in commiseration of what Gavriil had said - what Irakles wished he would say, of course. "It is, I agree. I hope that within now and the Senate meet to happen in a few weeks, my nephew would have found his middle ground in all his new duties. Of course, I hope to assist him as best as I can, but if such a manner cannot be solved by the time... I was thinking if I should consider a backup plan for the time being? There is much at stake." he reminded towards the end. And it as true, this much anyway. The whole kingdom was at stake, too much for it all to be sacrificed for one little king's learning curve.
The food before them was of superior quality, though it was simple. Irakles drank a good deal of the watered down wine and spoke even more. But he did not touch the food. Gavriil found this a little odd but he didn’t have the same compunctions. He took onto his plate the grapes, a bit of cheese, a cut of meat, bread, and some dates. He listened with attentiveness, though he did not always keep his eyes on Irakles.
It was a bit of an affront to share a table with the man at all and he wondered if Myrto would be pained at his doing so, or if she was so well beyond Irakles’s constant insult that she didn’t care if her nephew and husband appeared to be friends or not. Though Irakles was technically his uncle, he felt more like an interloper cousin. Perhaps even less than that.
As Irakles smoothly replied to every question that had been raised, Gavriil finally looked up, keeping a steady eye on Irakles’s mouth as it moved. He knew not to believe everything out of the mouth of a man with such loose morals, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to believe that Irakles was wholly lying, either. Though he wouldn’t classify Stephanos as particularly young, certainly younger than themselves, he did not believe that the king was the child that Irakles seemed to think of him as. The man was a general. And thirty two years old. If he could be trusted to lead armies, then surely the kingdom shouldn’t be that difficult with a team of advisors to guide him.
Though why Irakles would lie about that he didn’t really know. That’s what made it all a little confusing. Gavriil did not immediately jump to every suspicious conclusion that could have arisen. Rather, he was left to digest the honeyed poisoned words that Irakles was attempting to feed him.
“Prince Irakles,” he said, reverting on habit back to the formal title that put a comfortable amount of distance between them. “I suppose…” he paused, trying to find the words because this sounded dangerously close to treason. “What the urgency of such a backup plan might be. And why it is necessary in the first place.”
He sat back on the couch, a little away from the table and looked at the prince. “To unseat a king…if necessary,” he stressed, putting both palms out and pointed towards the floor as though to press down the very idea. “It hasn’t been done for centuries. I cannot imagine the upset that this would cause.” Another long pause as he thought and then, “Not to mention the embarrassment of the entire Mikaelidas line.” He was shaking his head gravely against any of this.
“No, my prince. I cannot imagine that the king’s simple learning curve is enough to even entertain this idea.” He was actively trying not to think about the fact that the next person in line, the next ‘backup’ as it were, was Irakles. Gods help them all if that happened.
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The food before them was of superior quality, though it was simple. Irakles drank a good deal of the watered down wine and spoke even more. But he did not touch the food. Gavriil found this a little odd but he didn’t have the same compunctions. He took onto his plate the grapes, a bit of cheese, a cut of meat, bread, and some dates. He listened with attentiveness, though he did not always keep his eyes on Irakles.
It was a bit of an affront to share a table with the man at all and he wondered if Myrto would be pained at his doing so, or if she was so well beyond Irakles’s constant insult that she didn’t care if her nephew and husband appeared to be friends or not. Though Irakles was technically his uncle, he felt more like an interloper cousin. Perhaps even less than that.
As Irakles smoothly replied to every question that had been raised, Gavriil finally looked up, keeping a steady eye on Irakles’s mouth as it moved. He knew not to believe everything out of the mouth of a man with such loose morals, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to believe that Irakles was wholly lying, either. Though he wouldn’t classify Stephanos as particularly young, certainly younger than themselves, he did not believe that the king was the child that Irakles seemed to think of him as. The man was a general. And thirty two years old. If he could be trusted to lead armies, then surely the kingdom shouldn’t be that difficult with a team of advisors to guide him.
Though why Irakles would lie about that he didn’t really know. That’s what made it all a little confusing. Gavriil did not immediately jump to every suspicious conclusion that could have arisen. Rather, he was left to digest the honeyed poisoned words that Irakles was attempting to feed him.
“Prince Irakles,” he said, reverting on habit back to the formal title that put a comfortable amount of distance between them. “I suppose…” he paused, trying to find the words because this sounded dangerously close to treason. “What the urgency of such a backup plan might be. And why it is necessary in the first place.”
He sat back on the couch, a little away from the table and looked at the prince. “To unseat a king…if necessary,” he stressed, putting both palms out and pointed towards the floor as though to press down the very idea. “It hasn’t been done for centuries. I cannot imagine the upset that this would cause.” Another long pause as he thought and then, “Not to mention the embarrassment of the entire Mikaelidas line.” He was shaking his head gravely against any of this.
“No, my prince. I cannot imagine that the king’s simple learning curve is enough to even entertain this idea.” He was actively trying not to think about the fact that the next person in line, the next ‘backup’ as it were, was Irakles. Gods help them all if that happened.
The food before them was of superior quality, though it was simple. Irakles drank a good deal of the watered down wine and spoke even more. But he did not touch the food. Gavriil found this a little odd but he didn’t have the same compunctions. He took onto his plate the grapes, a bit of cheese, a cut of meat, bread, and some dates. He listened with attentiveness, though he did not always keep his eyes on Irakles.
It was a bit of an affront to share a table with the man at all and he wondered if Myrto would be pained at his doing so, or if she was so well beyond Irakles’s constant insult that she didn’t care if her nephew and husband appeared to be friends or not. Though Irakles was technically his uncle, he felt more like an interloper cousin. Perhaps even less than that.
As Irakles smoothly replied to every question that had been raised, Gavriil finally looked up, keeping a steady eye on Irakles’s mouth as it moved. He knew not to believe everything out of the mouth of a man with such loose morals, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to believe that Irakles was wholly lying, either. Though he wouldn’t classify Stephanos as particularly young, certainly younger than themselves, he did not believe that the king was the child that Irakles seemed to think of him as. The man was a general. And thirty two years old. If he could be trusted to lead armies, then surely the kingdom shouldn’t be that difficult with a team of advisors to guide him.
Though why Irakles would lie about that he didn’t really know. That’s what made it all a little confusing. Gavriil did not immediately jump to every suspicious conclusion that could have arisen. Rather, he was left to digest the honeyed poisoned words that Irakles was attempting to feed him.
“Prince Irakles,” he said, reverting on habit back to the formal title that put a comfortable amount of distance between them. “I suppose…” he paused, trying to find the words because this sounded dangerously close to treason. “What the urgency of such a backup plan might be. And why it is necessary in the first place.”
He sat back on the couch, a little away from the table and looked at the prince. “To unseat a king…if necessary,” he stressed, putting both palms out and pointed towards the floor as though to press down the very idea. “It hasn’t been done for centuries. I cannot imagine the upset that this would cause.” Another long pause as he thought and then, “Not to mention the embarrassment of the entire Mikaelidas line.” He was shaking his head gravely against any of this.
“No, my prince. I cannot imagine that the king’s simple learning curve is enough to even entertain this idea.” He was actively trying not to think about the fact that the next person in line, the next ‘backup’ as it were, was Irakles. Gods help them all if that happened.
The man was a cautious one, but Irakles expected nothing less. While fallen from grace, the Dimitrou house was a strong and historical one, and any who helmed the House had to be one that was smart in his doings and connections, as Gavriil was obviously showing now. Then again, as a single parent of three children, two of whom turning out to be quite headstrong, Irakles was not at all surprised at how astute the Dimitrou head was.
Now, the question was how was he supposed to turn this to his advantage.
Tilting his head as if curious at his words, Irakles allowed a light of surprise to enter his eyes at Gavriil's words, along with a mock look of shock. "I did not mean to even suggest unseating the young King, Lord Gavriil." he paused, his features arranged in a thoughtful look. Of course, Irakles had all but imagined it that way, but for Gavriil to pick up on it... inwardly, he would curse, but for now, his mind worked to turn the situation around, all while looking for all the world as if he was considering the words he had just spoken. "I do not disagree that it would cause upset, and that is why I do not propose we unseat him at all. My family's name is something I do not wish to besmirch."
Picking up the chalice, he sipped at the liquid again as if to soothe his parched throat, before continuing. "Of course, if that was the backup plan you were thinking of, my lord, I do hope you have not spoken such words to anyone else. No, I was simply wondering if you had any suggestions for me to handle my wayward nephew?" At that, Irakles smiled a weary smile, as if he was a tired old man whilst he leaned against the back of the seat, finally picking up a grape to pop in his mouth. "I must confess, as bad as this would sound, that I have ran out of ways to assist the man, to be the King he is meant to be. Stephanos is well trained in being a military general... but to lead requires more then just the knowledge to bring back a fought victory. I am now merely attempting to ensure that he also knows how his words and actions will affect the whole Kingdom now, not just those around him."
Sitting back up straight again, the prince took some meats and bread, along with cheese to the previously empty plate, enjoying the offered victuals, as his eyes flicked to await Gavriil's response.
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May 23, 2019 12:00:53 GMT
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The man was a cautious one, but Irakles expected nothing less. While fallen from grace, the Dimitrou house was a strong and historical one, and any who helmed the House had to be one that was smart in his doings and connections, as Gavriil was obviously showing now. Then again, as a single parent of three children, two of whom turning out to be quite headstrong, Irakles was not at all surprised at how astute the Dimitrou head was.
Now, the question was how was he supposed to turn this to his advantage.
Tilting his head as if curious at his words, Irakles allowed a light of surprise to enter his eyes at Gavriil's words, along with a mock look of shock. "I did not mean to even suggest unseating the young King, Lord Gavriil." he paused, his features arranged in a thoughtful look. Of course, Irakles had all but imagined it that way, but for Gavriil to pick up on it... inwardly, he would curse, but for now, his mind worked to turn the situation around, all while looking for all the world as if he was considering the words he had just spoken. "I do not disagree that it would cause upset, and that is why I do not propose we unseat him at all. My family's name is something I do not wish to besmirch."
Picking up the chalice, he sipped at the liquid again as if to soothe his parched throat, before continuing. "Of course, if that was the backup plan you were thinking of, my lord, I do hope you have not spoken such words to anyone else. No, I was simply wondering if you had any suggestions for me to handle my wayward nephew?" At that, Irakles smiled a weary smile, as if he was a tired old man whilst he leaned against the back of the seat, finally picking up a grape to pop in his mouth. "I must confess, as bad as this would sound, that I have ran out of ways to assist the man, to be the King he is meant to be. Stephanos is well trained in being a military general... but to lead requires more then just the knowledge to bring back a fought victory. I am now merely attempting to ensure that he also knows how his words and actions will affect the whole Kingdom now, not just those around him."
Sitting back up straight again, the prince took some meats and bread, along with cheese to the previously empty plate, enjoying the offered victuals, as his eyes flicked to await Gavriil's response.
The man was a cautious one, but Irakles expected nothing less. While fallen from grace, the Dimitrou house was a strong and historical one, and any who helmed the House had to be one that was smart in his doings and connections, as Gavriil was obviously showing now. Then again, as a single parent of three children, two of whom turning out to be quite headstrong, Irakles was not at all surprised at how astute the Dimitrou head was.
Now, the question was how was he supposed to turn this to his advantage.
Tilting his head as if curious at his words, Irakles allowed a light of surprise to enter his eyes at Gavriil's words, along with a mock look of shock. "I did not mean to even suggest unseating the young King, Lord Gavriil." he paused, his features arranged in a thoughtful look. Of course, Irakles had all but imagined it that way, but for Gavriil to pick up on it... inwardly, he would curse, but for now, his mind worked to turn the situation around, all while looking for all the world as if he was considering the words he had just spoken. "I do not disagree that it would cause upset, and that is why I do not propose we unseat him at all. My family's name is something I do not wish to besmirch."
Picking up the chalice, he sipped at the liquid again as if to soothe his parched throat, before continuing. "Of course, if that was the backup plan you were thinking of, my lord, I do hope you have not spoken such words to anyone else. No, I was simply wondering if you had any suggestions for me to handle my wayward nephew?" At that, Irakles smiled a weary smile, as if he was a tired old man whilst he leaned against the back of the seat, finally picking up a grape to pop in his mouth. "I must confess, as bad as this would sound, that I have ran out of ways to assist the man, to be the King he is meant to be. Stephanos is well trained in being a military general... but to lead requires more then just the knowledge to bring back a fought victory. I am now merely attempting to ensure that he also knows how his words and actions will affect the whole Kingdom now, not just those around him."
Sitting back up straight again, the prince took some meats and bread, along with cheese to the previously empty plate, enjoying the offered victuals, as his eyes flicked to await Gavriil's response.
The room in which they sat was small and but open and airy. It should not have felt cramped or like there wasn’t enough space for just the two of them. But as he sat there, listening to the way Prince Irakles gently and expertly spun his own words against him, Gavriil was becoming troubled in his soul. The same oppressive feeling he got when he came within sight of Vasiliadon pressed into the room now.
It was like Irakles was conjuring invisible snakes, sending them slithering across the table. When he mentioned that this sounded like treason, and that he, Gavriil, should be the one concerned with how his words came out, the baron shifted uneasily. No, he hadn’t spoken this to anyone else. Until the prince entered the room, he hadn’t thought anything of the sort. So why did he now feel like he was the one with something to defend?
Obviously his assumption that Irakles was after the throne was unfounded. It had just sounded like that’s where the prince was going. He was now disconcerted that he’d been so wrong on that front. But…
When Irakles smoothly said he was simply looking for advice, Gavriil shook his head. “I wouldn’t presume.” It was a fight just to get those three words out into the air. He didn’t trust Irakles not to take what he said the wrong way, as he’d done just a second ago.
Irakles didn’t seem offended that there was no advice forthcoming. In fact, he transitioned back to Stephanos being an adequate military leader but obviously a poor king. Which...Gavriil was still not following. Other than the Creed, he hadn’t seen Taengea falling apart. So long as one wasn’t too wrapped up in the politics of Vasiliadon itself, the world spun on and the countryside was as peaceful as it had been when King Zennon was still alive. His suspicions were raised yet again by Irakles insisting that something was terribly, horribly amiss and that he was the only person who could fix it.
But Gavriil was not fool enough to call him out a second time. On this battlefield, with only words for weapons, he knew himself to be not even close as adept. If he tried to pin down into something, he’d quickly find himself fatally stabbed twelve times over without even being aware of it happening at first.
“Perhaps we should discuss next year’s Hunt,” Gavriil said, grasping at something they had in common that wouldn’t start some sort of fight he couldn’t win. “I think it would be a subject we both can delve into with equal tenacity?”
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May 23, 2019 12:01:15 GMT
Posted In Endless Game on May 23, 2019 12:01:15 GMT
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The room in which they sat was small and but open and airy. It should not have felt cramped or like there wasn’t enough space for just the two of them. But as he sat there, listening to the way Prince Irakles gently and expertly spun his own words against him, Gavriil was becoming troubled in his soul. The same oppressive feeling he got when he came within sight of Vasiliadon pressed into the room now.
It was like Irakles was conjuring invisible snakes, sending them slithering across the table. When he mentioned that this sounded like treason, and that he, Gavriil, should be the one concerned with how his words came out, the baron shifted uneasily. No, he hadn’t spoken this to anyone else. Until the prince entered the room, he hadn’t thought anything of the sort. So why did he now feel like he was the one with something to defend?
Obviously his assumption that Irakles was after the throne was unfounded. It had just sounded like that’s where the prince was going. He was now disconcerted that he’d been so wrong on that front. But…
When Irakles smoothly said he was simply looking for advice, Gavriil shook his head. “I wouldn’t presume.” It was a fight just to get those three words out into the air. He didn’t trust Irakles not to take what he said the wrong way, as he’d done just a second ago.
Irakles didn’t seem offended that there was no advice forthcoming. In fact, he transitioned back to Stephanos being an adequate military leader but obviously a poor king. Which...Gavriil was still not following. Other than the Creed, he hadn’t seen Taengea falling apart. So long as one wasn’t too wrapped up in the politics of Vasiliadon itself, the world spun on and the countryside was as peaceful as it had been when King Zennon was still alive. His suspicions were raised yet again by Irakles insisting that something was terribly, horribly amiss and that he was the only person who could fix it.
But Gavriil was not fool enough to call him out a second time. On this battlefield, with only words for weapons, he knew himself to be not even close as adept. If he tried to pin down into something, he’d quickly find himself fatally stabbed twelve times over without even being aware of it happening at first.
“Perhaps we should discuss next year’s Hunt,” Gavriil said, grasping at something they had in common that wouldn’t start some sort of fight he couldn’t win. “I think it would be a subject we both can delve into with equal tenacity?”
The room in which they sat was small and but open and airy. It should not have felt cramped or like there wasn’t enough space for just the two of them. But as he sat there, listening to the way Prince Irakles gently and expertly spun his own words against him, Gavriil was becoming troubled in his soul. The same oppressive feeling he got when he came within sight of Vasiliadon pressed into the room now.
It was like Irakles was conjuring invisible snakes, sending them slithering across the table. When he mentioned that this sounded like treason, and that he, Gavriil, should be the one concerned with how his words came out, the baron shifted uneasily. No, he hadn’t spoken this to anyone else. Until the prince entered the room, he hadn’t thought anything of the sort. So why did he now feel like he was the one with something to defend?
Obviously his assumption that Irakles was after the throne was unfounded. It had just sounded like that’s where the prince was going. He was now disconcerted that he’d been so wrong on that front. But…
When Irakles smoothly said he was simply looking for advice, Gavriil shook his head. “I wouldn’t presume.” It was a fight just to get those three words out into the air. He didn’t trust Irakles not to take what he said the wrong way, as he’d done just a second ago.
Irakles didn’t seem offended that there was no advice forthcoming. In fact, he transitioned back to Stephanos being an adequate military leader but obviously a poor king. Which...Gavriil was still not following. Other than the Creed, he hadn’t seen Taengea falling apart. So long as one wasn’t too wrapped up in the politics of Vasiliadon itself, the world spun on and the countryside was as peaceful as it had been when King Zennon was still alive. His suspicions were raised yet again by Irakles insisting that something was terribly, horribly amiss and that he was the only person who could fix it.
But Gavriil was not fool enough to call him out a second time. On this battlefield, with only words for weapons, he knew himself to be not even close as adept. If he tried to pin down into something, he’d quickly find himself fatally stabbed twelve times over without even being aware of it happening at first.
“Perhaps we should discuss next year’s Hunt,” Gavriil said, grasping at something they had in common that wouldn’t start some sort of fight he couldn’t win. “I think it would be a subject we both can delve into with equal tenacity?”
Of all the traits Irakles had, perhaps the one most useful to him was the fact that despite his aspirations in life, Irakles was in fact, quite empathetic. Saying that, it meant that the old man could somewhat perceive how people felt just by being around them - but whether or not he acted appropriately to the way they felt, was another matter entirely. Just because he knew Lord Gavriil now felt discomforted by the turn of the conversation, did not mean he intended to soothe the other man.
On the contrary, it was exactly what the prince wanted.
Yet outwardly, he smiled to the old man when the other shook his head, nodding as if in commiseration. "I understand, my lord. These are complicated times, from the unfortunate demise of my brother before his time." he murmured. Irakles kept his tone low, as if he was still half in mourning for his half-siblings death. No one had to know he had a hand in ensuring things got to the way they were today.
Picking up his chalice to drain the remaining wine from the vessel for drink, Irakles nodded in agreement to Gavriil's grasp for a change in conversation. He knew when he had pushed enough, and he had done what he had came to do. All he needed was a tendril of doubt planted in someone's head, and that was all that was necessary. In due time, what he had planned for the Senate meet would further solidify and water the seeds of doubt he had planted to make it grow, and by then, whatever Stephanos say would be pointless, for he knew his nephew's temper.
"Of course, my lord. I am quite excited for it. Something to look forward to, I must say, for your House always plans the best hunts on your grounds." he leaned forward eagerly, as if all too happy to discuss the Hunt for the upcoming year. The conversation would devolve to more menial discussions after, talk between two noble lords that would have no affect on anything within the Senate.
No matter. He got what he came here for.
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May 23, 2019 12:01:37 GMT
Posted In Endless Game on May 23, 2019 12:01:37 GMT
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Of all the traits Irakles had, perhaps the one most useful to him was the fact that despite his aspirations in life, Irakles was in fact, quite empathetic. Saying that, it meant that the old man could somewhat perceive how people felt just by being around them - but whether or not he acted appropriately to the way they felt, was another matter entirely. Just because he knew Lord Gavriil now felt discomforted by the turn of the conversation, did not mean he intended to soothe the other man.
On the contrary, it was exactly what the prince wanted.
Yet outwardly, he smiled to the old man when the other shook his head, nodding as if in commiseration. "I understand, my lord. These are complicated times, from the unfortunate demise of my brother before his time." he murmured. Irakles kept his tone low, as if he was still half in mourning for his half-siblings death. No one had to know he had a hand in ensuring things got to the way they were today.
Picking up his chalice to drain the remaining wine from the vessel for drink, Irakles nodded in agreement to Gavriil's grasp for a change in conversation. He knew when he had pushed enough, and he had done what he had came to do. All he needed was a tendril of doubt planted in someone's head, and that was all that was necessary. In due time, what he had planned for the Senate meet would further solidify and water the seeds of doubt he had planted to make it grow, and by then, whatever Stephanos say would be pointless, for he knew his nephew's temper.
"Of course, my lord. I am quite excited for it. Something to look forward to, I must say, for your House always plans the best hunts on your grounds." he leaned forward eagerly, as if all too happy to discuss the Hunt for the upcoming year. The conversation would devolve to more menial discussions after, talk between two noble lords that would have no affect on anything within the Senate.
No matter. He got what he came here for.
Of all the traits Irakles had, perhaps the one most useful to him was the fact that despite his aspirations in life, Irakles was in fact, quite empathetic. Saying that, it meant that the old man could somewhat perceive how people felt just by being around them - but whether or not he acted appropriately to the way they felt, was another matter entirely. Just because he knew Lord Gavriil now felt discomforted by the turn of the conversation, did not mean he intended to soothe the other man.
On the contrary, it was exactly what the prince wanted.
Yet outwardly, he smiled to the old man when the other shook his head, nodding as if in commiseration. "I understand, my lord. These are complicated times, from the unfortunate demise of my brother before his time." he murmured. Irakles kept his tone low, as if he was still half in mourning for his half-siblings death. No one had to know he had a hand in ensuring things got to the way they were today.
Picking up his chalice to drain the remaining wine from the vessel for drink, Irakles nodded in agreement to Gavriil's grasp for a change in conversation. He knew when he had pushed enough, and he had done what he had came to do. All he needed was a tendril of doubt planted in someone's head, and that was all that was necessary. In due time, what he had planned for the Senate meet would further solidify and water the seeds of doubt he had planted to make it grow, and by then, whatever Stephanos say would be pointless, for he knew his nephew's temper.
"Of course, my lord. I am quite excited for it. Something to look forward to, I must say, for your House always plans the best hunts on your grounds." he leaned forward eagerly, as if all too happy to discuss the Hunt for the upcoming year. The conversation would devolve to more menial discussions after, talk between two noble lords that would have no affect on anything within the Senate.
