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Heat hung heavy and oppressive over the city like a shroud, even the ocean seemed not able to stir a breeze and lapped listless against the harbour wall. Warmth rippled in waves up from the paved terraces, giving the city of Vasiliadon a shimmer, as if its beauty needed further adornment. It felt loaded, as if thunder were brewing, the temper of Zeus as hot as the weather. Fitting,somehow. For after Stephanos’ very public pronouncement of his intentions to deal with the Creed, there would be a storm if it were not done.
Achilleas had squinted slightly against the brightness of the white stone as he approached the Palati, blase to its magnificence in the way that only one used to walking its halls could be. He could still be glad of the comparative coolness to be found within its walls in the moments that followed, as the Baron of Eutteca waited for the servant to scurry ahead and announce him.
He found himself irritated at the wait, knowing it was unwarranted. It was the heat. Or maybe it was the discomfort he felt around his purpose for this visit, though that seemed laughable. Stephanos was his cousin after all, as well as King, and they had been close, once. Achilleas had been much absent in recent times of course, and he could well admit that even before then, his cousin had probably favoured Emilios’ company over his own. But there seemed some fragility in the relationship between their families that he could no longer ignore.
His father had barely been discreet in his disapproval of King Stephanos, so much so that tension had seemed palpable between them at the funeral, his cousin failing to disguise the hostility that Irakles’ wrapped so smoothly in silk. His was always coming from a place of concern, of course. But Achilleas knew well enough that criticism stung no less just because it was not presented as such. He would have spoken to Stephanos then, but his cousin had melted away before the opportunity had presented itself, and his words had died on the tip of his tongue.
And so here he was, not quite extending an olive branch, but wanting to test the resilience of their friendship, if such a thing still stood. The eldest son of Irakles knew that he was oft painted with same brush as his father: he had been a dutiful son and done what the man bid of him, it was true. But he knew as well that they were not one and the same. It would do his cousin well to see this too, he thought, as he waited for his audience to be granted.
Despite his having taken a cool bath soon before setting off, the heat had quickly drawn a sheen of sweat to his skin, though it was the scent of cypress oil that clung to him still and followed in his wake as he was led though the palace. The sound of his leather sandals upon the marble floor seemed loud as he followed the serf down the long hallway that led to the War Room, but Achilleas was Mikaelidas, and not one to apologise for his presence, ever. And when he came face to face with his cousin, the bow he offered was proper, but he did not linger over it.
“Your Majesty.” Odd, the words felt as they slid from his mouth, his tongue still not used to uttering them to Stephanos, even as the days slid by. He straightened, and smiled. “Cousin. I thank you for making the time to see me. I can only imagine that you have a fair few clamouring for your attention these days”
There was a pause a moment, a searching look, then Achilleas reached out to clasp Stephanos’ shoulder, his grip firm. If the newly crowned King looked upon him he would see the smile had faded, the expression sober now .
“ I hope you are bearing up well. I am sorry we have not managed to speak until now.”
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Heat hung heavy and oppressive over the city like a shroud, even the ocean seemed not able to stir a breeze and lapped listless against the harbour wall. Warmth rippled in waves up from the paved terraces, giving the city of Vasiliadon a shimmer, as if its beauty needed further adornment. It felt loaded, as if thunder were brewing, the temper of Zeus as hot as the weather. Fitting,somehow. For after Stephanos’ very public pronouncement of his intentions to deal with the Creed, there would be a storm if it were not done.
Achilleas had squinted slightly against the brightness of the white stone as he approached the Palati, blase to its magnificence in the way that only one used to walking its halls could be. He could still be glad of the comparative coolness to be found within its walls in the moments that followed, as the Baron of Eutteca waited for the servant to scurry ahead and announce him.
He found himself irritated at the wait, knowing it was unwarranted. It was the heat. Or maybe it was the discomfort he felt around his purpose for this visit, though that seemed laughable. Stephanos was his cousin after all, as well as King, and they had been close, once. Achilleas had been much absent in recent times of course, and he could well admit that even before then, his cousin had probably favoured Emilios’ company over his own. But there seemed some fragility in the relationship between their families that he could no longer ignore.
His father had barely been discreet in his disapproval of King Stephanos, so much so that tension had seemed palpable between them at the funeral, his cousin failing to disguise the hostility that Irakles’ wrapped so smoothly in silk. His was always coming from a place of concern, of course. But Achilleas knew well enough that criticism stung no less just because it was not presented as such. He would have spoken to Stephanos then, but his cousin had melted away before the opportunity had presented itself, and his words had died on the tip of his tongue.
And so here he was, not quite extending an olive branch, but wanting to test the resilience of their friendship, if such a thing still stood. The eldest son of Irakles knew that he was oft painted with same brush as his father: he had been a dutiful son and done what the man bid of him, it was true. But he knew as well that they were not one and the same. It would do his cousin well to see this too, he thought, as he waited for his audience to be granted.
Despite his having taken a cool bath soon before setting off, the heat had quickly drawn a sheen of sweat to his skin, though it was the scent of cypress oil that clung to him still and followed in his wake as he was led though the palace. The sound of his leather sandals upon the marble floor seemed loud as he followed the serf down the long hallway that led to the War Room, but Achilleas was Mikaelidas, and not one to apologise for his presence, ever. And when he came face to face with his cousin, the bow he offered was proper, but he did not linger over it.
“Your Majesty.” Odd, the words felt as they slid from his mouth, his tongue still not used to uttering them to Stephanos, even as the days slid by. He straightened, and smiled. “Cousin. I thank you for making the time to see me. I can only imagine that you have a fair few clamouring for your attention these days”
There was a pause a moment, a searching look, then Achilleas reached out to clasp Stephanos’ shoulder, his grip firm. If the newly crowned King looked upon him he would see the smile had faded, the expression sober now .
“ I hope you are bearing up well. I am sorry we have not managed to speak until now.”
Heat hung heavy and oppressive over the city like a shroud, even the ocean seemed not able to stir a breeze and lapped listless against the harbour wall. Warmth rippled in waves up from the paved terraces, giving the city of Vasiliadon a shimmer, as if its beauty needed further adornment. It felt loaded, as if thunder were brewing, the temper of Zeus as hot as the weather. Fitting,somehow. For after Stephanos’ very public pronouncement of his intentions to deal with the Creed, there would be a storm if it were not done.
Achilleas had squinted slightly against the brightness of the white stone as he approached the Palati, blase to its magnificence in the way that only one used to walking its halls could be. He could still be glad of the comparative coolness to be found within its walls in the moments that followed, as the Baron of Eutteca waited for the servant to scurry ahead and announce him.
He found himself irritated at the wait, knowing it was unwarranted. It was the heat. Or maybe it was the discomfort he felt around his purpose for this visit, though that seemed laughable. Stephanos was his cousin after all, as well as King, and they had been close, once. Achilleas had been much absent in recent times of course, and he could well admit that even before then, his cousin had probably favoured Emilios’ company over his own. But there seemed some fragility in the relationship between their families that he could no longer ignore.
His father had barely been discreet in his disapproval of King Stephanos, so much so that tension had seemed palpable between them at the funeral, his cousin failing to disguise the hostility that Irakles’ wrapped so smoothly in silk. His was always coming from a place of concern, of course. But Achilleas knew well enough that criticism stung no less just because it was not presented as such. He would have spoken to Stephanos then, but his cousin had melted away before the opportunity had presented itself, and his words had died on the tip of his tongue.
And so here he was, not quite extending an olive branch, but wanting to test the resilience of their friendship, if such a thing still stood. The eldest son of Irakles knew that he was oft painted with same brush as his father: he had been a dutiful son and done what the man bid of him, it was true. But he knew as well that they were not one and the same. It would do his cousin well to see this too, he thought, as he waited for his audience to be granted.
Despite his having taken a cool bath soon before setting off, the heat had quickly drawn a sheen of sweat to his skin, though it was the scent of cypress oil that clung to him still and followed in his wake as he was led though the palace. The sound of his leather sandals upon the marble floor seemed loud as he followed the serf down the long hallway that led to the War Room, but Achilleas was Mikaelidas, and not one to apologise for his presence, ever. And when he came face to face with his cousin, the bow he offered was proper, but he did not linger over it.
“Your Majesty.” Odd, the words felt as they slid from his mouth, his tongue still not used to uttering them to Stephanos, even as the days slid by. He straightened, and smiled. “Cousin. I thank you for making the time to see me. I can only imagine that you have a fair few clamouring for your attention these days”
There was a pause a moment, a searching look, then Achilleas reached out to clasp Stephanos’ shoulder, his grip firm. If the newly crowned King looked upon him he would see the smile had faded, the expression sober now .
“ I hope you are bearing up well. I am sorry we have not managed to speak until now.”
He’d known Achilleas would be coming to the palati, but not when. The missive he’d sent out yesterday had not specified a time. However, due to the looming battle, it didn’t matter when Achilleas would arrive. The king would be in the same place regardless. The War Room was used for planning and strategizing. He’d commissioned the likenesses of chariots drawn by horses, and of men in the shroud of the Creed. These were placed atop a huge, detailed map of the plains around Vasiliadon.
The table that housed the map was huge and encompassed most of the round room. There were no windows in here; only tall, bronze bowls burning to give off light, affixed to the walls between dented shields, ruined weapons from past foes and battles. There was mounted armor from kings long dead and the late King Zenon’s own armor, newly settled on its armor mount.
He was alone for the present, in here while his advisors had left in agitation. The servant announced Achilleas and Stephanos straightened up from where he’d been moving pieces in planning and smiled as his cousin entered the room. Because there was no sunlight, and the room was made entirely of stone, the air was a cool temperature. Stephanos was not perspiring like Achilleas.
His cousin offered a smooth bow that Stephanos thought nothing of anymore. He’d been a prince all of his life and was so used to it that it never crossed his mind as out of place unless someone did not do it. As Achilleas stood, offering his greeting and thanks, Stephanos nodded and came around the table, clasping Achilleas’s shoulder in return. Stephanos’s own smile faded a bit, mirroring his cousin’s expression.
“What is it?” he asked, not letting go, his bright blue eyes searching the dark blue of his cousin’s.
Once Achilleas said he hoped that everything was going fine, Stephanos dropped his hand and stepped back, turning in the same motion. His back was to Achilleas by the time the other man offered an apology for not speaking until this moment. With a wave of his hand, the king tossed this apology aside.
“In truth,” he said slowly, his gaze dropping back down to the map. “I haven’t wanted to see you before now. Things have been…” he was searching for the right way to tell him that he thought Irakles was a murderer and a butcher but there wasn’t proof. Still. It was hard to be in the same room with this kind of unsaid accusation between them.
For the last few years, both Stephanos and Irakles had been tense around each other, though not outright hostile. Not until lately. Of course, when the court was around, they were both on remarkably good behavior. But behind closed doors, the claws came out.
“Your father has been incredibly busy within the palati,” he said instead of what he actually wanted to say. At last he looked back at Achilleas. “I’ve not asked him to be so...helpful...and yet here he is. Every single day. Without being asked. Without leaving until the late hours...how feel you about his,” he paused, again searching for a word that might pass as not asinine. “Dedication?”
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He’d known Achilleas would be coming to the palati, but not when. The missive he’d sent out yesterday had not specified a time. However, due to the looming battle, it didn’t matter when Achilleas would arrive. The king would be in the same place regardless. The War Room was used for planning and strategizing. He’d commissioned the likenesses of chariots drawn by horses, and of men in the shroud of the Creed. These were placed atop a huge, detailed map of the plains around Vasiliadon.
The table that housed the map was huge and encompassed most of the round room. There were no windows in here; only tall, bronze bowls burning to give off light, affixed to the walls between dented shields, ruined weapons from past foes and battles. There was mounted armor from kings long dead and the late King Zenon’s own armor, newly settled on its armor mount.
He was alone for the present, in here while his advisors had left in agitation. The servant announced Achilleas and Stephanos straightened up from where he’d been moving pieces in planning and smiled as his cousin entered the room. Because there was no sunlight, and the room was made entirely of stone, the air was a cool temperature. Stephanos was not perspiring like Achilleas.
His cousin offered a smooth bow that Stephanos thought nothing of anymore. He’d been a prince all of his life and was so used to it that it never crossed his mind as out of place unless someone did not do it. As Achilleas stood, offering his greeting and thanks, Stephanos nodded and came around the table, clasping Achilleas’s shoulder in return. Stephanos’s own smile faded a bit, mirroring his cousin’s expression.
“What is it?” he asked, not letting go, his bright blue eyes searching the dark blue of his cousin’s.
Once Achilleas said he hoped that everything was going fine, Stephanos dropped his hand and stepped back, turning in the same motion. His back was to Achilleas by the time the other man offered an apology for not speaking until this moment. With a wave of his hand, the king tossed this apology aside.
“In truth,” he said slowly, his gaze dropping back down to the map. “I haven’t wanted to see you before now. Things have been…” he was searching for the right way to tell him that he thought Irakles was a murderer and a butcher but there wasn’t proof. Still. It was hard to be in the same room with this kind of unsaid accusation between them.
For the last few years, both Stephanos and Irakles had been tense around each other, though not outright hostile. Not until lately. Of course, when the court was around, they were both on remarkably good behavior. But behind closed doors, the claws came out.
“Your father has been incredibly busy within the palati,” he said instead of what he actually wanted to say. At last he looked back at Achilleas. “I’ve not asked him to be so...helpful...and yet here he is. Every single day. Without being asked. Without leaving until the late hours...how feel you about his,” he paused, again searching for a word that might pass as not asinine. “Dedication?”
He’d known Achilleas would be coming to the palati, but not when. The missive he’d sent out yesterday had not specified a time. However, due to the looming battle, it didn’t matter when Achilleas would arrive. The king would be in the same place regardless. The War Room was used for planning and strategizing. He’d commissioned the likenesses of chariots drawn by horses, and of men in the shroud of the Creed. These were placed atop a huge, detailed map of the plains around Vasiliadon.
The table that housed the map was huge and encompassed most of the round room. There were no windows in here; only tall, bronze bowls burning to give off light, affixed to the walls between dented shields, ruined weapons from past foes and battles. There was mounted armor from kings long dead and the late King Zenon’s own armor, newly settled on its armor mount.
He was alone for the present, in here while his advisors had left in agitation. The servant announced Achilleas and Stephanos straightened up from where he’d been moving pieces in planning and smiled as his cousin entered the room. Because there was no sunlight, and the room was made entirely of stone, the air was a cool temperature. Stephanos was not perspiring like Achilleas.
His cousin offered a smooth bow that Stephanos thought nothing of anymore. He’d been a prince all of his life and was so used to it that it never crossed his mind as out of place unless someone did not do it. As Achilleas stood, offering his greeting and thanks, Stephanos nodded and came around the table, clasping Achilleas’s shoulder in return. Stephanos’s own smile faded a bit, mirroring his cousin’s expression.
“What is it?” he asked, not letting go, his bright blue eyes searching the dark blue of his cousin’s.
Once Achilleas said he hoped that everything was going fine, Stephanos dropped his hand and stepped back, turning in the same motion. His back was to Achilleas by the time the other man offered an apology for not speaking until this moment. With a wave of his hand, the king tossed this apology aside.
“In truth,” he said slowly, his gaze dropping back down to the map. “I haven’t wanted to see you before now. Things have been…” he was searching for the right way to tell him that he thought Irakles was a murderer and a butcher but there wasn’t proof. Still. It was hard to be in the same room with this kind of unsaid accusation between them.
For the last few years, both Stephanos and Irakles had been tense around each other, though not outright hostile. Not until lately. Of course, when the court was around, they were both on remarkably good behavior. But behind closed doors, the claws came out.
“Your father has been incredibly busy within the palati,” he said instead of what he actually wanted to say. At last he looked back at Achilleas. “I’ve not asked him to be so...helpful...and yet here he is. Every single day. Without being asked. Without leaving until the late hours...how feel you about his,” he paused, again searching for a word that might pass as not asinine. “Dedication?”
“..I haven’t wanted to see you before now…”
Achilleas frowned at this, at the hand that waved his apology away. It was not the reaction he had anticipated nor one that he would have sought . A question as to why stood upon the tip of his tongue, but the Lord Mikaelidas stayed quiet for it felt sharp, and he did not think that would help.
Let his cousin explain himself, then.
In the quiet that followed, Achilleas looked at the table that dominated the space, the miniature figures that represented the sons of Taengea and all those that would risk their lives in this mission for vengeance. A general like his cousin, he was already critiquing the scenario mapped out before him, lost in analysing the flaws , those areas where they might be flanked or cornered, or where they might prevail. It was instinctive. Stephanos’ returned attention then pulled him back from such thoughts , his expression not shifting as the King spoke, though inwardly he winced at the immediate mention of his father.
Of course it would be about his father.
Straightening under the gaze that fell upon him, the elder son of Irakles raised his eyebrows at the careful choice of words, words that did not conceal how the King felt about the Prince’s presence. And his generous mouth pressed together in a firm line as he considered how he might answer.
It was tricky. He of all people knew how overbearing his father could be, for had he not born the brunt of it all his years? He would have sympathised with his cousin, laughed about it even, were it not for the fact that this was also his King. And that put an altogether different slant upon matters. If Stephanos thought his father to be working against him, here in the palati, then that became murky waters to wade in, and Achilleas was mindful of his words when he offered a response.
“Aah, well you know my father well enough” he said lightly, choosing to address his cousin, rather than his King. “He likes to be involved. I should thank you, for I am sure keeping busy is distracting him from his grief.”
He might have added that it would bring his father pleasure to know that he was helping his brother’s son, but Achilleas did not like to lie, though he was adept enough at it, if the necessity arose. He watched Stephanos’ carefully, almost warily, for their was no love lost between the man and his father, and Achilleas walked a precarious line between the two of them. He somehow doubted Emilios would be asked such a question in such a way.
After a pause, he shook his head, and added with a forced levity “I hope you have not called me to account for my father, cousin, for that is beyond me.” Indeed there were many things about the man that even his own son and heir could not understand nor resolve. The offhand way in which he shunned Achilleas’ mother, so she was ostracised from court and had taken to hiding away in his own barony. His relentless pursuit of power, no matter what the cost to those around him. His inability to express affection..
Achilleas could have gone on, but instead he looked back to man across from him If Stephanos thought Irakles would care a jot what his family thought of his dealings here at the palati, then the King was foolish.
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“..I haven’t wanted to see you before now…”
Achilleas frowned at this, at the hand that waved his apology away. It was not the reaction he had anticipated nor one that he would have sought . A question as to why stood upon the tip of his tongue, but the Lord Mikaelidas stayed quiet for it felt sharp, and he did not think that would help.
Let his cousin explain himself, then.
In the quiet that followed, Achilleas looked at the table that dominated the space, the miniature figures that represented the sons of Taengea and all those that would risk their lives in this mission for vengeance. A general like his cousin, he was already critiquing the scenario mapped out before him, lost in analysing the flaws , those areas where they might be flanked or cornered, or where they might prevail. It was instinctive. Stephanos’ returned attention then pulled him back from such thoughts , his expression not shifting as the King spoke, though inwardly he winced at the immediate mention of his father.
Of course it would be about his father.
Straightening under the gaze that fell upon him, the elder son of Irakles raised his eyebrows at the careful choice of words, words that did not conceal how the King felt about the Prince’s presence. And his generous mouth pressed together in a firm line as he considered how he might answer.
It was tricky. He of all people knew how overbearing his father could be, for had he not born the brunt of it all his years? He would have sympathised with his cousin, laughed about it even, were it not for the fact that this was also his King. And that put an altogether different slant upon matters. If Stephanos thought his father to be working against him, here in the palati, then that became murky waters to wade in, and Achilleas was mindful of his words when he offered a response.
“Aah, well you know my father well enough” he said lightly, choosing to address his cousin, rather than his King. “He likes to be involved. I should thank you, for I am sure keeping busy is distracting him from his grief.”
He might have added that it would bring his father pleasure to know that he was helping his brother’s son, but Achilleas did not like to lie, though he was adept enough at it, if the necessity arose. He watched Stephanos’ carefully, almost warily, for their was no love lost between the man and his father, and Achilleas walked a precarious line between the two of them. He somehow doubted Emilios would be asked such a question in such a way.
After a pause, he shook his head, and added with a forced levity “I hope you have not called me to account for my father, cousin, for that is beyond me.” Indeed there were many things about the man that even his own son and heir could not understand nor resolve. The offhand way in which he shunned Achilleas’ mother, so she was ostracised from court and had taken to hiding away in his own barony. His relentless pursuit of power, no matter what the cost to those around him. His inability to express affection..
Achilleas could have gone on, but instead he looked back to man across from him If Stephanos thought Irakles would care a jot what his family thought of his dealings here at the palati, then the King was foolish.
“..I haven’t wanted to see you before now…”
Achilleas frowned at this, at the hand that waved his apology away. It was not the reaction he had anticipated nor one that he would have sought . A question as to why stood upon the tip of his tongue, but the Lord Mikaelidas stayed quiet for it felt sharp, and he did not think that would help.
Let his cousin explain himself, then.
In the quiet that followed, Achilleas looked at the table that dominated the space, the miniature figures that represented the sons of Taengea and all those that would risk their lives in this mission for vengeance. A general like his cousin, he was already critiquing the scenario mapped out before him, lost in analysing the flaws , those areas where they might be flanked or cornered, or where they might prevail. It was instinctive. Stephanos’ returned attention then pulled him back from such thoughts , his expression not shifting as the King spoke, though inwardly he winced at the immediate mention of his father.
Of course it would be about his father.
Straightening under the gaze that fell upon him, the elder son of Irakles raised his eyebrows at the careful choice of words, words that did not conceal how the King felt about the Prince’s presence. And his generous mouth pressed together in a firm line as he considered how he might answer.
It was tricky. He of all people knew how overbearing his father could be, for had he not born the brunt of it all his years? He would have sympathised with his cousin, laughed about it even, were it not for the fact that this was also his King. And that put an altogether different slant upon matters. If Stephanos thought his father to be working against him, here in the palati, then that became murky waters to wade in, and Achilleas was mindful of his words when he offered a response.
“Aah, well you know my father well enough” he said lightly, choosing to address his cousin, rather than his King. “He likes to be involved. I should thank you, for I am sure keeping busy is distracting him from his grief.”
He might have added that it would bring his father pleasure to know that he was helping his brother’s son, but Achilleas did not like to lie, though he was adept enough at it, if the necessity arose. He watched Stephanos’ carefully, almost warily, for their was no love lost between the man and his father, and Achilleas walked a precarious line between the two of them. He somehow doubted Emilios would be asked such a question in such a way.
After a pause, he shook his head, and added with a forced levity “I hope you have not called me to account for my father, cousin, for that is beyond me.” Indeed there were many things about the man that even his own son and heir could not understand nor resolve. The offhand way in which he shunned Achilleas’ mother, so she was ostracised from court and had taken to hiding away in his own barony. His relentless pursuit of power, no matter what the cost to those around him. His inability to express affection..
Achilleas could have gone on, but instead he looked back to man across from him If Stephanos thought Irakles would care a jot what his family thought of his dealings here at the palati, then the King was foolish.
Perhaps he should not have been this suspicious about his cousin. After all, it was Achilleas who’d already knelt and sworn loyalty. It was Achilleas who was responsible for seeing to the safety of Dowager Queen Elise and that of Xene and Gianna when Stephanos wasn’t entirely sure who to trust while the city burned and the Creed ran murderous and rampant through the streets. Yet, since that day, they hadn’t spoken much. It was with Emilios that Stephanos had been with if he’d needed support from family. Of course, that drunken debacle with Emilios prior to the coronation had landed both Mikaelidas boys in trouble, while Achilleas was steadfast and sober - as usual.
It wasn’t that he didn’t want to trust the man before him. His entire childhood and youth revolved around his siblings and cousins. They were friends and rivals, playmates and bullies toward each other and both of Irakles’s sons were a dominant part of fond memories that he held of days gone by. Yet, it was sentimentalism that had been the downfall of kings in the past. And yes, he did know Irakles. He knew what Achilleas stood to lose if the wrong choice was made.
The question now, was who did Achilleas trust most to be able to save him? Stephanos? Or Irakles? Breaking completely from one’s father was a hard thing and it was this that Stephanos was most conscious of when it came to his eldest cousin. Irakles would no doubt be on Achilleas about the barony, the upcoming marriage and subtly threatening it all. But this was only if Irakles won. Stephanos wasn’t going to let that happen if he could possibly help it.
“He does like to keep busy,” Stephanos agreed and at Achilleas’s thanks, he gave him a strange look. “I haven’t been keeping him doing anything. It’s difficult to get him to even leave the palati without an outright command to do so…”
The king began messing with a ring on his finger, sliding it up and down to his knuckle as he thought. “Makes one wonder how much he misses living here.” It was as close as he was willing to get at the moment to outright telling Achilleas his thoughts on Irakles’s motives.
Achilleas did not seem to want to discuss Irakles and Stephanos couldn’t exactly blame him. It was an uncomfortable topic, for a myriad of reasons, not least of which because the king was always on edge when Irakles was even mentioned. He truly believed the man had murdered his father and brother and now being forced to play nice and allow him inside the palati? Watch Irakles smoothly lie constantly to his mother? Nod and smile at his sisters? Knowing he wanted them all dead? This was why Stephanos was having to quite literally drink himself to sleep. His mind wouldn’t stop whirring. Ever.
“No,” he said, attempting to sound less like he was going to order an execution and more like he used to be. More cavalier. “I didn’t.” That...was almost true. But he was willing to drop the subject for the time being. “No I hear you’re to be married soon? To my wife’s sister.” He stopped messing with his ring and folded his arms across his chest. “When that occurs, do you call me cousin or brother?” His was a personality that did not do well with being melancholy for long. This was a much less serious subject, at least to Stephanos, though he did not know Achilleas’s feelings about the whole affair.
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Perhaps he should not have been this suspicious about his cousin. After all, it was Achilleas who’d already knelt and sworn loyalty. It was Achilleas who was responsible for seeing to the safety of Dowager Queen Elise and that of Xene and Gianna when Stephanos wasn’t entirely sure who to trust while the city burned and the Creed ran murderous and rampant through the streets. Yet, since that day, they hadn’t spoken much. It was with Emilios that Stephanos had been with if he’d needed support from family. Of course, that drunken debacle with Emilios prior to the coronation had landed both Mikaelidas boys in trouble, while Achilleas was steadfast and sober - as usual.
It wasn’t that he didn’t want to trust the man before him. His entire childhood and youth revolved around his siblings and cousins. They were friends and rivals, playmates and bullies toward each other and both of Irakles’s sons were a dominant part of fond memories that he held of days gone by. Yet, it was sentimentalism that had been the downfall of kings in the past. And yes, he did know Irakles. He knew what Achilleas stood to lose if the wrong choice was made.
The question now, was who did Achilleas trust most to be able to save him? Stephanos? Or Irakles? Breaking completely from one’s father was a hard thing and it was this that Stephanos was most conscious of when it came to his eldest cousin. Irakles would no doubt be on Achilleas about the barony, the upcoming marriage and subtly threatening it all. But this was only if Irakles won. Stephanos wasn’t going to let that happen if he could possibly help it.
“He does like to keep busy,” Stephanos agreed and at Achilleas’s thanks, he gave him a strange look. “I haven’t been keeping him doing anything. It’s difficult to get him to even leave the palati without an outright command to do so…”
The king began messing with a ring on his finger, sliding it up and down to his knuckle as he thought. “Makes one wonder how much he misses living here.” It was as close as he was willing to get at the moment to outright telling Achilleas his thoughts on Irakles’s motives.
Achilleas did not seem to want to discuss Irakles and Stephanos couldn’t exactly blame him. It was an uncomfortable topic, for a myriad of reasons, not least of which because the king was always on edge when Irakles was even mentioned. He truly believed the man had murdered his father and brother and now being forced to play nice and allow him inside the palati? Watch Irakles smoothly lie constantly to his mother? Nod and smile at his sisters? Knowing he wanted them all dead? This was why Stephanos was having to quite literally drink himself to sleep. His mind wouldn’t stop whirring. Ever.
“No,” he said, attempting to sound less like he was going to order an execution and more like he used to be. More cavalier. “I didn’t.” That...was almost true. But he was willing to drop the subject for the time being. “No I hear you’re to be married soon? To my wife’s sister.” He stopped messing with his ring and folded his arms across his chest. “When that occurs, do you call me cousin or brother?” His was a personality that did not do well with being melancholy for long. This was a much less serious subject, at least to Stephanos, though he did not know Achilleas’s feelings about the whole affair.
Perhaps he should not have been this suspicious about his cousin. After all, it was Achilleas who’d already knelt and sworn loyalty. It was Achilleas who was responsible for seeing to the safety of Dowager Queen Elise and that of Xene and Gianna when Stephanos wasn’t entirely sure who to trust while the city burned and the Creed ran murderous and rampant through the streets. Yet, since that day, they hadn’t spoken much. It was with Emilios that Stephanos had been with if he’d needed support from family. Of course, that drunken debacle with Emilios prior to the coronation had landed both Mikaelidas boys in trouble, while Achilleas was steadfast and sober - as usual.
It wasn’t that he didn’t want to trust the man before him. His entire childhood and youth revolved around his siblings and cousins. They were friends and rivals, playmates and bullies toward each other and both of Irakles’s sons were a dominant part of fond memories that he held of days gone by. Yet, it was sentimentalism that had been the downfall of kings in the past. And yes, he did know Irakles. He knew what Achilleas stood to lose if the wrong choice was made.
The question now, was who did Achilleas trust most to be able to save him? Stephanos? Or Irakles? Breaking completely from one’s father was a hard thing and it was this that Stephanos was most conscious of when it came to his eldest cousin. Irakles would no doubt be on Achilleas about the barony, the upcoming marriage and subtly threatening it all. But this was only if Irakles won. Stephanos wasn’t going to let that happen if he could possibly help it.
“He does like to keep busy,” Stephanos agreed and at Achilleas’s thanks, he gave him a strange look. “I haven’t been keeping him doing anything. It’s difficult to get him to even leave the palati without an outright command to do so…”
The king began messing with a ring on his finger, sliding it up and down to his knuckle as he thought. “Makes one wonder how much he misses living here.” It was as close as he was willing to get at the moment to outright telling Achilleas his thoughts on Irakles’s motives.
Achilleas did not seem to want to discuss Irakles and Stephanos couldn’t exactly blame him. It was an uncomfortable topic, for a myriad of reasons, not least of which because the king was always on edge when Irakles was even mentioned. He truly believed the man had murdered his father and brother and now being forced to play nice and allow him inside the palati? Watch Irakles smoothly lie constantly to his mother? Nod and smile at his sisters? Knowing he wanted them all dead? This was why Stephanos was having to quite literally drink himself to sleep. His mind wouldn’t stop whirring. Ever.
“No,” he said, attempting to sound less like he was going to order an execution and more like he used to be. More cavalier. “I didn’t.” That...was almost true. But he was willing to drop the subject for the time being. “No I hear you’re to be married soon? To my wife’s sister.” He stopped messing with his ring and folded his arms across his chest. “When that occurs, do you call me cousin or brother?” His was a personality that did not do well with being melancholy for long. This was a much less serious subject, at least to Stephanos, though he did not know Achilleas’s feelings about the whole affair.
It bothered Achilleas that Stephanos might have kept him at a distance because of his father. No matter what Stephanos may have thought about Irakles’ ambitions, his father had worked harder than anybody he knew to serve and protect their realm. And always, Achilleas had strived to do what was right, and it was right that he should prepare himself to take on leadership of their house someday. He wondered why it suddenly felt so dangerous to be considered ‘like his father’.
Though- Achilleas realised with a jolt of disappointment- it was not that he was being likened to his father, but more that he was considered a pup at its master’s heels. If his own cousin believed him so under the man’s sway, then what did others think? Was it the commonly held belief that he had no mind of his own? That he would blindly do everything he was bid? The realisation was a bitter one that sank slowly into his thoughts as he watched Stephanos. He knew that it had been Emilios who had been the man’s choice in company rather than him. He had thought it because they were more similar, both having been free of the responsibilities that he and -even more so - Zacharias had been born to. But perhaps he was wrong in that, and it was because he was considered little more than his father’s lackey.
There were raised eyebrows at the comment made towards Irakles missing the palace, but Achilleas said nothing,warier still with the path his thoughts had led him down. Was he being tested? It was not a nice thing to be wondering as he stood before the newly minted King.
Glad then, when the Stephanos deigned to let the subject drop, Achilleas tried to breathe away the tension that seemed to have gathered in the previous moments. He smiled thinly, trying to grasp onto the joy that the prospect of his upcoming wedding usually conjured, but it felt slippery and elusive now.
“To Theodora, yes”, he volunteered. “ Perhaps you might give me some insight into these Leventi women, being in the position you are in. And if you are only torn between calling me cousin or brother, then I consider myself fortunate indeed. There are much worse things..”
And then he wished he had not sad that, because he did not wish to steer his cousin’s thoughts back to whatever had caused the almost suspicious atmosphere of before.
“ ….a wedding will be a bright spot in what has felt a dark time though, cousin. A chance to remind ourselves that there is more to Taengea than all this bloodshed we have seen and are yet to see. And then to be followed by a new babe to the King and his Wife?” Achilleas clapped a hand on his cousin’s shoulder. “ A time for blessed new beginnings”
The smile reached his eyes this time, his teeth white against the sun-darkened skin. Achilleas realised that he spoke truth, he really believed that it could be so. When he was wed, he would move back to Euttica and not be so at the beck and call of his Father. When the Creed were dealt with, things would stabilise again, and a new royal heir would…
...would enrage his father, and put both Irakles himself that much further from ever ascending to the throne. He did not know quite how he felt about that, and berated himself for not having realised sooner that such a thing would surely be dominating his father’s thoughts. Certainly, Stephanos would be all too aware, and Achilleas thought he had a greater understanding of the source of the man’s worry. Misguided as he was certain it was, he could understand why the man would feel protective, perhaps a little paranoid after everything that had happened. He was pensive a moment, and then seemed to pull himself back, turning to survey the table all laid out.
“Have you decided on this arrangement, then?” he asked, gesturing towards the scene mapped out. This, war and strategy, far more comfortable an arena for both men. It seemed a safe subject, at least.
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It bothered Achilleas that Stephanos might have kept him at a distance because of his father. No matter what Stephanos may have thought about Irakles’ ambitions, his father had worked harder than anybody he knew to serve and protect their realm. And always, Achilleas had strived to do what was right, and it was right that he should prepare himself to take on leadership of their house someday. He wondered why it suddenly felt so dangerous to be considered ‘like his father’.
Though- Achilleas realised with a jolt of disappointment- it was not that he was being likened to his father, but more that he was considered a pup at its master’s heels. If his own cousin believed him so under the man’s sway, then what did others think? Was it the commonly held belief that he had no mind of his own? That he would blindly do everything he was bid? The realisation was a bitter one that sank slowly into his thoughts as he watched Stephanos. He knew that it had been Emilios who had been the man’s choice in company rather than him. He had thought it because they were more similar, both having been free of the responsibilities that he and -even more so - Zacharias had been born to. But perhaps he was wrong in that, and it was because he was considered little more than his father’s lackey.
There were raised eyebrows at the comment made towards Irakles missing the palace, but Achilleas said nothing,warier still with the path his thoughts had led him down. Was he being tested? It was not a nice thing to be wondering as he stood before the newly minted King.
Glad then, when the Stephanos deigned to let the subject drop, Achilleas tried to breathe away the tension that seemed to have gathered in the previous moments. He smiled thinly, trying to grasp onto the joy that the prospect of his upcoming wedding usually conjured, but it felt slippery and elusive now.
“To Theodora, yes”, he volunteered. “ Perhaps you might give me some insight into these Leventi women, being in the position you are in. And if you are only torn between calling me cousin or brother, then I consider myself fortunate indeed. There are much worse things..”
And then he wished he had not sad that, because he did not wish to steer his cousin’s thoughts back to whatever had caused the almost suspicious atmosphere of before.
“ ….a wedding will be a bright spot in what has felt a dark time though, cousin. A chance to remind ourselves that there is more to Taengea than all this bloodshed we have seen and are yet to see. And then to be followed by a new babe to the King and his Wife?” Achilleas clapped a hand on his cousin’s shoulder. “ A time for blessed new beginnings”
The smile reached his eyes this time, his teeth white against the sun-darkened skin. Achilleas realised that he spoke truth, he really believed that it could be so. When he was wed, he would move back to Euttica and not be so at the beck and call of his Father. When the Creed were dealt with, things would stabilise again, and a new royal heir would…
...would enrage his father, and put both Irakles himself that much further from ever ascending to the throne. He did not know quite how he felt about that, and berated himself for not having realised sooner that such a thing would surely be dominating his father’s thoughts. Certainly, Stephanos would be all too aware, and Achilleas thought he had a greater understanding of the source of the man’s worry. Misguided as he was certain it was, he could understand why the man would feel protective, perhaps a little paranoid after everything that had happened. He was pensive a moment, and then seemed to pull himself back, turning to survey the table all laid out.
“Have you decided on this arrangement, then?” he asked, gesturing towards the scene mapped out. This, war and strategy, far more comfortable an arena for both men. It seemed a safe subject, at least.
It bothered Achilleas that Stephanos might have kept him at a distance because of his father. No matter what Stephanos may have thought about Irakles’ ambitions, his father had worked harder than anybody he knew to serve and protect their realm. And always, Achilleas had strived to do what was right, and it was right that he should prepare himself to take on leadership of their house someday. He wondered why it suddenly felt so dangerous to be considered ‘like his father’.
Though- Achilleas realised with a jolt of disappointment- it was not that he was being likened to his father, but more that he was considered a pup at its master’s heels. If his own cousin believed him so under the man’s sway, then what did others think? Was it the commonly held belief that he had no mind of his own? That he would blindly do everything he was bid? The realisation was a bitter one that sank slowly into his thoughts as he watched Stephanos. He knew that it had been Emilios who had been the man’s choice in company rather than him. He had thought it because they were more similar, both having been free of the responsibilities that he and -even more so - Zacharias had been born to. But perhaps he was wrong in that, and it was because he was considered little more than his father’s lackey.
There were raised eyebrows at the comment made towards Irakles missing the palace, but Achilleas said nothing,warier still with the path his thoughts had led him down. Was he being tested? It was not a nice thing to be wondering as he stood before the newly minted King.
Glad then, when the Stephanos deigned to let the subject drop, Achilleas tried to breathe away the tension that seemed to have gathered in the previous moments. He smiled thinly, trying to grasp onto the joy that the prospect of his upcoming wedding usually conjured, but it felt slippery and elusive now.
“To Theodora, yes”, he volunteered. “ Perhaps you might give me some insight into these Leventi women, being in the position you are in. And if you are only torn between calling me cousin or brother, then I consider myself fortunate indeed. There are much worse things..”
And then he wished he had not sad that, because he did not wish to steer his cousin’s thoughts back to whatever had caused the almost suspicious atmosphere of before.
“ ….a wedding will be a bright spot in what has felt a dark time though, cousin. A chance to remind ourselves that there is more to Taengea than all this bloodshed we have seen and are yet to see. And then to be followed by a new babe to the King and his Wife?” Achilleas clapped a hand on his cousin’s shoulder. “ A time for blessed new beginnings”
The smile reached his eyes this time, his teeth white against the sun-darkened skin. Achilleas realised that he spoke truth, he really believed that it could be so. When he was wed, he would move back to Euttica and not be so at the beck and call of his Father. When the Creed were dealt with, things would stabilise again, and a new royal heir would…
...would enrage his father, and put both Irakles himself that much further from ever ascending to the throne. He did not know quite how he felt about that, and berated himself for not having realised sooner that such a thing would surely be dominating his father’s thoughts. Certainly, Stephanos would be all too aware, and Achilleas thought he had a greater understanding of the source of the man’s worry. Misguided as he was certain it was, he could understand why the man would feel protective, perhaps a little paranoid after everything that had happened. He was pensive a moment, and then seemed to pull himself back, turning to survey the table all laid out.
“Have you decided on this arrangement, then?” he asked, gesturing towards the scene mapped out. This, war and strategy, far more comfortable an arena for both men. It seemed a safe subject, at least.
He could see his cousin’s struggle to reach some sort of normalcy. That was the trouble with life at the moment, however. There was nothing normal about any of this anymore. Or, maybe that wasn’t true. Maybe this was the new normal and everyone hadn’t adjusted to it yet. His mind didn’t tip back toward Irakles, however, when Achilleas mentioned the ‘worse things’ bit.
The excitement was evident across Achilleas’s face. This man was actually very excited to get married. It was an opinion that Stephanos had not shared at his wedding. He was still not totally used to the idea, though he liked his wife well enough. What he did not tell Achilleas was that he thought the whole Leventi clan were social climbers and too ambitious for their own good. This wasn’t something any man in love would be open to hearing. Instead, he said, “They’re passionate, if Olympia is anything to go on.”
With a half shrug, he added, “Theodora will keep you on your toes, that’s for sure. She and her sisters are here often enough for Pia. Cooing about the baby.” He thought of the sight of so many of the Leventi girls parading through the halls of the palati, all hovering about Pia who looked as happy as she could possibly be, surrounded by her family, all of them trying to talk over each other. They fawned over her and preened. It was a little adorable but a bit too noisy to be borne for long. Thankfully he was never included in these little gatherings.
He didn’t interrupt as Achilleas went on, speaking of auspicious beginnings and then ending with asking if the set up on the map was to be the end plan. Stephanos followed the man’s gaze to the gigantic map. “Perhaps,” he moved his finger across the part of the map that indicated Vasiliadon, where they were. The figures were spread out and in a formation that he did not agree with. It was a fantastic strategy if they were facing an enemy they understood.
“Perhaps,” he said again, picking up a chariot and fiddling with the wheels that actually rotated when he spun them. “My advisors keep pushing for this plan, anyway.”
“Achilleas,” he started and glanced up from the chariot in his hand. “You were there when that baron goaded me after the coronation…” This wasn’t the way he’d meant to get to the topic but he found himself circling it, rather than hitting it head on the way he might have done if it were something less heavy. “I made that rash promise to root out the Creed. That was always my plan,” he continued and finally put the figurine down. “I just wanted a little more time.”
Time he no longer had.
“I know you were due to be married within the month but this,” he pointed to the gorge where the Creed had set up their base of operations. “This needs done first. I called you here to tell you that the wedding needs to be pushed back.”
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He could see his cousin’s struggle to reach some sort of normalcy. That was the trouble with life at the moment, however. There was nothing normal about any of this anymore. Or, maybe that wasn’t true. Maybe this was the new normal and everyone hadn’t adjusted to it yet. His mind didn’t tip back toward Irakles, however, when Achilleas mentioned the ‘worse things’ bit.
The excitement was evident across Achilleas’s face. This man was actually very excited to get married. It was an opinion that Stephanos had not shared at his wedding. He was still not totally used to the idea, though he liked his wife well enough. What he did not tell Achilleas was that he thought the whole Leventi clan were social climbers and too ambitious for their own good. This wasn’t something any man in love would be open to hearing. Instead, he said, “They’re passionate, if Olympia is anything to go on.”
With a half shrug, he added, “Theodora will keep you on your toes, that’s for sure. She and her sisters are here often enough for Pia. Cooing about the baby.” He thought of the sight of so many of the Leventi girls parading through the halls of the palati, all hovering about Pia who looked as happy as she could possibly be, surrounded by her family, all of them trying to talk over each other. They fawned over her and preened. It was a little adorable but a bit too noisy to be borne for long. Thankfully he was never included in these little gatherings.
He didn’t interrupt as Achilleas went on, speaking of auspicious beginnings and then ending with asking if the set up on the map was to be the end plan. Stephanos followed the man’s gaze to the gigantic map. “Perhaps,” he moved his finger across the part of the map that indicated Vasiliadon, where they were. The figures were spread out and in a formation that he did not agree with. It was a fantastic strategy if they were facing an enemy they understood.
“Perhaps,” he said again, picking up a chariot and fiddling with the wheels that actually rotated when he spun them. “My advisors keep pushing for this plan, anyway.”
“Achilleas,” he started and glanced up from the chariot in his hand. “You were there when that baron goaded me after the coronation…” This wasn’t the way he’d meant to get to the topic but he found himself circling it, rather than hitting it head on the way he might have done if it were something less heavy. “I made that rash promise to root out the Creed. That was always my plan,” he continued and finally put the figurine down. “I just wanted a little more time.”
Time he no longer had.
“I know you were due to be married within the month but this,” he pointed to the gorge where the Creed had set up their base of operations. “This needs done first. I called you here to tell you that the wedding needs to be pushed back.”
He could see his cousin’s struggle to reach some sort of normalcy. That was the trouble with life at the moment, however. There was nothing normal about any of this anymore. Or, maybe that wasn’t true. Maybe this was the new normal and everyone hadn’t adjusted to it yet. His mind didn’t tip back toward Irakles, however, when Achilleas mentioned the ‘worse things’ bit.
The excitement was evident across Achilleas’s face. This man was actually very excited to get married. It was an opinion that Stephanos had not shared at his wedding. He was still not totally used to the idea, though he liked his wife well enough. What he did not tell Achilleas was that he thought the whole Leventi clan were social climbers and too ambitious for their own good. This wasn’t something any man in love would be open to hearing. Instead, he said, “They’re passionate, if Olympia is anything to go on.”
With a half shrug, he added, “Theodora will keep you on your toes, that’s for sure. She and her sisters are here often enough for Pia. Cooing about the baby.” He thought of the sight of so many of the Leventi girls parading through the halls of the palati, all hovering about Pia who looked as happy as she could possibly be, surrounded by her family, all of them trying to talk over each other. They fawned over her and preened. It was a little adorable but a bit too noisy to be borne for long. Thankfully he was never included in these little gatherings.
He didn’t interrupt as Achilleas went on, speaking of auspicious beginnings and then ending with asking if the set up on the map was to be the end plan. Stephanos followed the man’s gaze to the gigantic map. “Perhaps,” he moved his finger across the part of the map that indicated Vasiliadon, where they were. The figures were spread out and in a formation that he did not agree with. It was a fantastic strategy if they were facing an enemy they understood.
“Perhaps,” he said again, picking up a chariot and fiddling with the wheels that actually rotated when he spun them. “My advisors keep pushing for this plan, anyway.”
“Achilleas,” he started and glanced up from the chariot in his hand. “You were there when that baron goaded me after the coronation…” This wasn’t the way he’d meant to get to the topic but he found himself circling it, rather than hitting it head on the way he might have done if it were something less heavy. “I made that rash promise to root out the Creed. That was always my plan,” he continued and finally put the figurine down. “I just wanted a little more time.”
Time he no longer had.
“I know you were due to be married within the month but this,” he pointed to the gorge where the Creed had set up their base of operations. “This needs done first. I called you here to tell you that the wedding needs to be pushed back.”
There was the raise of a brow and a knowing sort of grin at his cousin’s words, the awkwardness fading away once conversation had moved on from more...controversial subject matter.
“Is that so?” he asked, trying not to too think too hard on the scenarios that came to mind. Achilleas found he did not much mind the idea of Theodora keeping him on his toes, as it turned out. As for her close relationship with her sisters? Well that would be a new experience for him. He had...half sisters of his own now of course, thought he had spent little time with them. He tended to avoid what had been his family home, because it still irked him that Irakles had moved his Mistress and daughters in. Having to stay there over the past weeks had been trying to say the least, and he could only be glad that the archontiko was big enough that he could evade them if he tried hard enough. Theodora’s sisters had done nothing to earn his dislike though.
The Baron looked critically at the positions that were outlined on the table, and he was about to suggest that the King might consider moving one of the outer units round to the other side of the gorge when his cousin spoke again, and Achilleas looked up from the schema toward the other man, noting the shift in his tone.
He nodded at Stephanos assertion, wondering if there were some particular task his cousin was going to ask him to fulfil in routing the Creed. Or perhaps he was having doubts? It had been a grand declaration to make when they knew so little of their foes, but he could not see anyway that the King could retract it now. They would have see through his promises.
But as he listened, it became clear that he was just leading into something else entirely, and when his cousin finally finished, Achilleas sighed a little, tapped his finger atop the table as he let the King’s request sink in.
It was frustrating, but not unexpected.
Of all people, Achilleas had had it drilled into him from an early age that his own wants and desires came second to the needs of Taengea. And if this was not a perfect example of one such occasion he did not know what was.The man did not know how much trouble it would be to un-arrange what had already been done, but he was presuming he and his men would have a part to play in the attack being planned.It would be better if that was where his focus was, he told himself.
“ Of course” came his eventual answer, accompanied by a brief, tight smile. “ The security of Taengea must come first. I will see the wedding put back.” Again. Had he been more given to suspicion, Achilleas might have thought the Gods were conspiring against him, but he preferred to think he had some control over his own fates.
He wondered if Theodora would be upset by the news - she would need to understand anyway, that duty fell before personal satisfaction. It was probably better she knew this now, from the beginning, as he doubted very much that it would be the last time he would have to put the kingdom before her. His father would not be too pleased, he knew, and there was a sinking sort of feeling as he realised he would be the one to deliver the news.. Achilleas could understand his desire to see the marriage happen, like he had said to Stephanos, the people needed something joyful to focus on after recent events. But there would be no way Irakles could not understand the reasons to delay yet again. He supposed he should seek him out and tell him once he were done here.
Straightening his shoulders, the Lord Miakelidas looked back to Stephanos. “ You need only ask if I can be of any help with this” he said, gesturing towards the plans, recalling a little too late that the man had said he hadn’t wantedto see him only a few moments prior and frowning a little “If not, then I should go and relay the news to my father.”
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There was the raise of a brow and a knowing sort of grin at his cousin’s words, the awkwardness fading away once conversation had moved on from more...controversial subject matter.
“Is that so?” he asked, trying not to too think too hard on the scenarios that came to mind. Achilleas found he did not much mind the idea of Theodora keeping him on his toes, as it turned out. As for her close relationship with her sisters? Well that would be a new experience for him. He had...half sisters of his own now of course, thought he had spent little time with them. He tended to avoid what had been his family home, because it still irked him that Irakles had moved his Mistress and daughters in. Having to stay there over the past weeks had been trying to say the least, and he could only be glad that the archontiko was big enough that he could evade them if he tried hard enough. Theodora’s sisters had done nothing to earn his dislike though.
The Baron looked critically at the positions that were outlined on the table, and he was about to suggest that the King might consider moving one of the outer units round to the other side of the gorge when his cousin spoke again, and Achilleas looked up from the schema toward the other man, noting the shift in his tone.
He nodded at Stephanos assertion, wondering if there were some particular task his cousin was going to ask him to fulfil in routing the Creed. Or perhaps he was having doubts? It had been a grand declaration to make when they knew so little of their foes, but he could not see anyway that the King could retract it now. They would have see through his promises.
But as he listened, it became clear that he was just leading into something else entirely, and when his cousin finally finished, Achilleas sighed a little, tapped his finger atop the table as he let the King’s request sink in.
It was frustrating, but not unexpected.
Of all people, Achilleas had had it drilled into him from an early age that his own wants and desires came second to the needs of Taengea. And if this was not a perfect example of one such occasion he did not know what was.The man did not know how much trouble it would be to un-arrange what had already been done, but he was presuming he and his men would have a part to play in the attack being planned.It would be better if that was where his focus was, he told himself.
“ Of course” came his eventual answer, accompanied by a brief, tight smile. “ The security of Taengea must come first. I will see the wedding put back.” Again. Had he been more given to suspicion, Achilleas might have thought the Gods were conspiring against him, but he preferred to think he had some control over his own fates.
He wondered if Theodora would be upset by the news - she would need to understand anyway, that duty fell before personal satisfaction. It was probably better she knew this now, from the beginning, as he doubted very much that it would be the last time he would have to put the kingdom before her. His father would not be too pleased, he knew, and there was a sinking sort of feeling as he realised he would be the one to deliver the news.. Achilleas could understand his desire to see the marriage happen, like he had said to Stephanos, the people needed something joyful to focus on after recent events. But there would be no way Irakles could not understand the reasons to delay yet again. He supposed he should seek him out and tell him once he were done here.
Straightening his shoulders, the Lord Miakelidas looked back to Stephanos. “ You need only ask if I can be of any help with this” he said, gesturing towards the plans, recalling a little too late that the man had said he hadn’t wantedto see him only a few moments prior and frowning a little “If not, then I should go and relay the news to my father.”
There was the raise of a brow and a knowing sort of grin at his cousin’s words, the awkwardness fading away once conversation had moved on from more...controversial subject matter.
“Is that so?” he asked, trying not to too think too hard on the scenarios that came to mind. Achilleas found he did not much mind the idea of Theodora keeping him on his toes, as it turned out. As for her close relationship with her sisters? Well that would be a new experience for him. He had...half sisters of his own now of course, thought he had spent little time with them. He tended to avoid what had been his family home, because it still irked him that Irakles had moved his Mistress and daughters in. Having to stay there over the past weeks had been trying to say the least, and he could only be glad that the archontiko was big enough that he could evade them if he tried hard enough. Theodora’s sisters had done nothing to earn his dislike though.
The Baron looked critically at the positions that were outlined on the table, and he was about to suggest that the King might consider moving one of the outer units round to the other side of the gorge when his cousin spoke again, and Achilleas looked up from the schema toward the other man, noting the shift in his tone.
He nodded at Stephanos assertion, wondering if there were some particular task his cousin was going to ask him to fulfil in routing the Creed. Or perhaps he was having doubts? It had been a grand declaration to make when they knew so little of their foes, but he could not see anyway that the King could retract it now. They would have see through his promises.
But as he listened, it became clear that he was just leading into something else entirely, and when his cousin finally finished, Achilleas sighed a little, tapped his finger atop the table as he let the King’s request sink in.
It was frustrating, but not unexpected.
Of all people, Achilleas had had it drilled into him from an early age that his own wants and desires came second to the needs of Taengea. And if this was not a perfect example of one such occasion he did not know what was.The man did not know how much trouble it would be to un-arrange what had already been done, but he was presuming he and his men would have a part to play in the attack being planned.It would be better if that was where his focus was, he told himself.
“ Of course” came his eventual answer, accompanied by a brief, tight smile. “ The security of Taengea must come first. I will see the wedding put back.” Again. Had he been more given to suspicion, Achilleas might have thought the Gods were conspiring against him, but he preferred to think he had some control over his own fates.
He wondered if Theodora would be upset by the news - she would need to understand anyway, that duty fell before personal satisfaction. It was probably better she knew this now, from the beginning, as he doubted very much that it would be the last time he would have to put the kingdom before her. His father would not be too pleased, he knew, and there was a sinking sort of feeling as he realised he would be the one to deliver the news.. Achilleas could understand his desire to see the marriage happen, like he had said to Stephanos, the people needed something joyful to focus on after recent events. But there would be no way Irakles could not understand the reasons to delay yet again. He supposed he should seek him out and tell him once he were done here.
Straightening his shoulders, the Lord Miakelidas looked back to Stephanos. “ You need only ask if I can be of any help with this” he said, gesturing towards the plans, recalling a little too late that the man had said he hadn’t wantedto see him only a few moments prior and frowning a little “If not, then I should go and relay the news to my father.”
He was beginning to feel a little like a traitor, to be doubting his cousin in this way. Achilleas kept seeming to be blindsided by anything told to him and Stephanos couldn’t blame him. It wasn’t as though Achilleas was at the palati every day to see what was going on. Nor was he even in Vasiliadon all the time. Sometimes his cousin had the luxury of escape.
The way Achilleas also took the news that his wedding would have to be postponed again made Stephanos feel a bit guilty. It couldn’t be too close to his father’s funeral, it couldn’t be too close to his own wedding, it certainly had to be before the royal birth, but now there was this war with the Creed and with Olympia so close to her time….Stephanos came around the table and clasped Achilleas on the shoulder, truly feeling for him.
“I wish the Fates desired a different outcome for you,” he said, dropping his role as king for the first time since Achilleas had entered the room. “This is all in a precarious position right now. I need you more than anyone else on that battlefield.”
This wasn’t even close to a lie. Of anyone in Taengea, Achilleas was the only one that he knew of who’d never lost a fight. Any time he and his cousin had sparred in the past, Achilleas was sure to be the winner. There was just no question of who was the better fighter of the two, or of anywhere, for that matter. He wasn’t going to tell Achilleas yet, but putting him at the back of the gorge to ensure that there were no survivors was exactly what he’d planned.
“I know,” he said to his cousin’s offer to help. “Yours will be the first counsel I seek.” A complete lie. “The idiots I have on the counsel right now haven’t been to war in decades. They’ve lost their touch.” The truth.
But at Achilleas’s assertion that he needed to go tell Irakles the news, Stephanos nodded and gave him a final pat on his shoulder before stepping back and putting the table between them again. “I think that would be for the best, cousin. May the gods be with you.” He smiled thinly at the joke that Irakles might kill the messanger.
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He was beginning to feel a little like a traitor, to be doubting his cousin in this way. Achilleas kept seeming to be blindsided by anything told to him and Stephanos couldn’t blame him. It wasn’t as though Achilleas was at the palati every day to see what was going on. Nor was he even in Vasiliadon all the time. Sometimes his cousin had the luxury of escape.
The way Achilleas also took the news that his wedding would have to be postponed again made Stephanos feel a bit guilty. It couldn’t be too close to his father’s funeral, it couldn’t be too close to his own wedding, it certainly had to be before the royal birth, but now there was this war with the Creed and with Olympia so close to her time….Stephanos came around the table and clasped Achilleas on the shoulder, truly feeling for him.
“I wish the Fates desired a different outcome for you,” he said, dropping his role as king for the first time since Achilleas had entered the room. “This is all in a precarious position right now. I need you more than anyone else on that battlefield.”
This wasn’t even close to a lie. Of anyone in Taengea, Achilleas was the only one that he knew of who’d never lost a fight. Any time he and his cousin had sparred in the past, Achilleas was sure to be the winner. There was just no question of who was the better fighter of the two, or of anywhere, for that matter. He wasn’t going to tell Achilleas yet, but putting him at the back of the gorge to ensure that there were no survivors was exactly what he’d planned.
“I know,” he said to his cousin’s offer to help. “Yours will be the first counsel I seek.” A complete lie. “The idiots I have on the counsel right now haven’t been to war in decades. They’ve lost their touch.” The truth.
But at Achilleas’s assertion that he needed to go tell Irakles the news, Stephanos nodded and gave him a final pat on his shoulder before stepping back and putting the table between them again. “I think that would be for the best, cousin. May the gods be with you.” He smiled thinly at the joke that Irakles might kill the messanger.
He was beginning to feel a little like a traitor, to be doubting his cousin in this way. Achilleas kept seeming to be blindsided by anything told to him and Stephanos couldn’t blame him. It wasn’t as though Achilleas was at the palati every day to see what was going on. Nor was he even in Vasiliadon all the time. Sometimes his cousin had the luxury of escape.
The way Achilleas also took the news that his wedding would have to be postponed again made Stephanos feel a bit guilty. It couldn’t be too close to his father’s funeral, it couldn’t be too close to his own wedding, it certainly had to be before the royal birth, but now there was this war with the Creed and with Olympia so close to her time….Stephanos came around the table and clasped Achilleas on the shoulder, truly feeling for him.
“I wish the Fates desired a different outcome for you,” he said, dropping his role as king for the first time since Achilleas had entered the room. “This is all in a precarious position right now. I need you more than anyone else on that battlefield.”
This wasn’t even close to a lie. Of anyone in Taengea, Achilleas was the only one that he knew of who’d never lost a fight. Any time he and his cousin had sparred in the past, Achilleas was sure to be the winner. There was just no question of who was the better fighter of the two, or of anywhere, for that matter. He wasn’t going to tell Achilleas yet, but putting him at the back of the gorge to ensure that there were no survivors was exactly what he’d planned.
“I know,” he said to his cousin’s offer to help. “Yours will be the first counsel I seek.” A complete lie. “The idiots I have on the counsel right now haven’t been to war in decades. They’ve lost their touch.” The truth.
But at Achilleas’s assertion that he needed to go tell Irakles the news, Stephanos nodded and gave him a final pat on his shoulder before stepping back and putting the table between them again. “I think that would be for the best, cousin. May the gods be with you.” He smiled thinly at the joke that Irakles might kill the messanger.
