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With the Creed set up not 10 minutes ride out from the main capital of the kingdom, the trade agreements and port activity in Vasiliadon had not been at the best, a worrying state for a kingdom whose income was based on percentages collected from taxes of merchants and profits from provinces. Although much has recovered, especially with the recent flower festival regaining a portion of the visitors and business profits, there was still an air of unease hanging around Vasiliadon, something that would take time yet to dispel of.
Yet, Irakles could not just sit on his laurels and expect things to fix himself. One would wonder why the Head of the Mikaelidas house would spend so much time at the royal palati, but the truth was, Irakles had already have much of the House matters running like clockwork, even before the tragedy of the Creed attack had happened. With his sharp, compartmentalized mind that was used to running strategies, plans and attacks, choreographing the movements of many regiments under his command, a small matter like handling the different provinces under his House, as well as the matters of his family members, was a small task.
As such, Irakles had left most province matters to be handled by his steward with strict instructions that any anomaly must immediately be brought to him, and had instead ended up in the palati four out of seven days in a week working on papers, agreements and matters, half of which he could not agree with. While he would reluctantly admit that Stephanos was improving in his matters of dealing with the affairs of the state, speaking with his advisors and handling grieviences brought to him by the common folk, many advisors still told Irakles in confidence that in actions and thoughts, they still thought Stephanos as a little too unpredictable. They chalked it up to his age, and Irakles had to admit the truth in the words - he was of no maturity or growth yet to take on the role as a King, no stability yet, not even in his own personal matters, much less in decisions concerning the Kingdom.
And he made it very clear to his advisors what he thought. They had come to him after the disastrous affair of the court session just a few days ago, worrying over Stephanos's insistence that he would take out the Creed in the gorge. Irakles had waved a hand at them, but he had no words of reassurance. His promise to bring the leader's head back on a pike was a hopeful one at best. Knowing the way the Creed operated, they would not let themselves be so easily taken down.
It would be too easy, way too easy to just ask for Stephanos's death during the attack on the gorge - just chalk it up to childish stupidity, and how he would dive headfirst into something without thinking. But Fotios had a point. Stephanos's death would come too quickly on the heels of his father and brother's demise. And since he was the next heir in line to the throne - well, if people were suspecting Stephanos because he had the most to gain, what's to prevent that suspicion from falling to Irakles next? So he could not simply just kill his nephew. Not yet, at the very least. Irakles wanted a clean slate, and for that to happen, his taking over must happen only, and only if Stephanos has been proven guilty.
Smiling to himself as he returned to the scroll he had in hand, the opening of his door had the elder male look up, frowning when a maid entered, stating that the King would wish to see Irakles in his study. Ire stirred in the pit of his stomach. His nephew thought too highly of himself if he thought Irakles was some dog to be summoned.
"I shall be there shortly." was his curt reply, returning his gaze to the scroll he had spent all morning studying.
'Shortly', turned out to be almost half an hour later, before Irakles sauntered out of his study in the palati. In his long, navy blue chiton with a golden ivy leaf belt around his waist, he took his time towards the stairs, ascending them in a leisurely manner. His bare feet made nary a sound along the marbled hallways as he strolled, before finally reaching the door of the study, doors which he did not bother to knock at all, simply pushed open to step in, a calm, almost mocking smile on his lips. "I am a busy man, nephew. Say what you need, and make it quick. I have to get the scrolls and parchments regarding the port agreements and the adjustments to the fees we collect from the merchants, out to the necessary people by this evening."
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With the Creed set up not 10 minutes ride out from the main capital of the kingdom, the trade agreements and port activity in Vasiliadon had not been at the best, a worrying state for a kingdom whose income was based on percentages collected from taxes of merchants and profits from provinces. Although much has recovered, especially with the recent flower festival regaining a portion of the visitors and business profits, there was still an air of unease hanging around Vasiliadon, something that would take time yet to dispel of.
Yet, Irakles could not just sit on his laurels and expect things to fix himself. One would wonder why the Head of the Mikaelidas house would spend so much time at the royal palati, but the truth was, Irakles had already have much of the House matters running like clockwork, even before the tragedy of the Creed attack had happened. With his sharp, compartmentalized mind that was used to running strategies, plans and attacks, choreographing the movements of many regiments under his command, a small matter like handling the different provinces under his House, as well as the matters of his family members, was a small task.
As such, Irakles had left most province matters to be handled by his steward with strict instructions that any anomaly must immediately be brought to him, and had instead ended up in the palati four out of seven days in a week working on papers, agreements and matters, half of which he could not agree with. While he would reluctantly admit that Stephanos was improving in his matters of dealing with the affairs of the state, speaking with his advisors and handling grieviences brought to him by the common folk, many advisors still told Irakles in confidence that in actions and thoughts, they still thought Stephanos as a little too unpredictable. They chalked it up to his age, and Irakles had to admit the truth in the words - he was of no maturity or growth yet to take on the role as a King, no stability yet, not even in his own personal matters, much less in decisions concerning the Kingdom.
And he made it very clear to his advisors what he thought. They had come to him after the disastrous affair of the court session just a few days ago, worrying over Stephanos's insistence that he would take out the Creed in the gorge. Irakles had waved a hand at them, but he had no words of reassurance. His promise to bring the leader's head back on a pike was a hopeful one at best. Knowing the way the Creed operated, they would not let themselves be so easily taken down.
It would be too easy, way too easy to just ask for Stephanos's death during the attack on the gorge - just chalk it up to childish stupidity, and how he would dive headfirst into something without thinking. But Fotios had a point. Stephanos's death would come too quickly on the heels of his father and brother's demise. And since he was the next heir in line to the throne - well, if people were suspecting Stephanos because he had the most to gain, what's to prevent that suspicion from falling to Irakles next? So he could not simply just kill his nephew. Not yet, at the very least. Irakles wanted a clean slate, and for that to happen, his taking over must happen only, and only if Stephanos has been proven guilty.
Smiling to himself as he returned to the scroll he had in hand, the opening of his door had the elder male look up, frowning when a maid entered, stating that the King would wish to see Irakles in his study. Ire stirred in the pit of his stomach. His nephew thought too highly of himself if he thought Irakles was some dog to be summoned.
"I shall be there shortly." was his curt reply, returning his gaze to the scroll he had spent all morning studying.
'Shortly', turned out to be almost half an hour later, before Irakles sauntered out of his study in the palati. In his long, navy blue chiton with a golden ivy leaf belt around his waist, he took his time towards the stairs, ascending them in a leisurely manner. His bare feet made nary a sound along the marbled hallways as he strolled, before finally reaching the door of the study, doors which he did not bother to knock at all, simply pushed open to step in, a calm, almost mocking smile on his lips. "I am a busy man, nephew. Say what you need, and make it quick. I have to get the scrolls and parchments regarding the port agreements and the adjustments to the fees we collect from the merchants, out to the necessary people by this evening."
With the Creed set up not 10 minutes ride out from the main capital of the kingdom, the trade agreements and port activity in Vasiliadon had not been at the best, a worrying state for a kingdom whose income was based on percentages collected from taxes of merchants and profits from provinces. Although much has recovered, especially with the recent flower festival regaining a portion of the visitors and business profits, there was still an air of unease hanging around Vasiliadon, something that would take time yet to dispel of.
Yet, Irakles could not just sit on his laurels and expect things to fix himself. One would wonder why the Head of the Mikaelidas house would spend so much time at the royal palati, but the truth was, Irakles had already have much of the House matters running like clockwork, even before the tragedy of the Creed attack had happened. With his sharp, compartmentalized mind that was used to running strategies, plans and attacks, choreographing the movements of many regiments under his command, a small matter like handling the different provinces under his House, as well as the matters of his family members, was a small task.
As such, Irakles had left most province matters to be handled by his steward with strict instructions that any anomaly must immediately be brought to him, and had instead ended up in the palati four out of seven days in a week working on papers, agreements and matters, half of which he could not agree with. While he would reluctantly admit that Stephanos was improving in his matters of dealing with the affairs of the state, speaking with his advisors and handling grieviences brought to him by the common folk, many advisors still told Irakles in confidence that in actions and thoughts, they still thought Stephanos as a little too unpredictable. They chalked it up to his age, and Irakles had to admit the truth in the words - he was of no maturity or growth yet to take on the role as a King, no stability yet, not even in his own personal matters, much less in decisions concerning the Kingdom.
And he made it very clear to his advisors what he thought. They had come to him after the disastrous affair of the court session just a few days ago, worrying over Stephanos's insistence that he would take out the Creed in the gorge. Irakles had waved a hand at them, but he had no words of reassurance. His promise to bring the leader's head back on a pike was a hopeful one at best. Knowing the way the Creed operated, they would not let themselves be so easily taken down.
It would be too easy, way too easy to just ask for Stephanos's death during the attack on the gorge - just chalk it up to childish stupidity, and how he would dive headfirst into something without thinking. But Fotios had a point. Stephanos's death would come too quickly on the heels of his father and brother's demise. And since he was the next heir in line to the throne - well, if people were suspecting Stephanos because he had the most to gain, what's to prevent that suspicion from falling to Irakles next? So he could not simply just kill his nephew. Not yet, at the very least. Irakles wanted a clean slate, and for that to happen, his taking over must happen only, and only if Stephanos has been proven guilty.
Smiling to himself as he returned to the scroll he had in hand, the opening of his door had the elder male look up, frowning when a maid entered, stating that the King would wish to see Irakles in his study. Ire stirred in the pit of his stomach. His nephew thought too highly of himself if he thought Irakles was some dog to be summoned.
"I shall be there shortly." was his curt reply, returning his gaze to the scroll he had spent all morning studying.
'Shortly', turned out to be almost half an hour later, before Irakles sauntered out of his study in the palati. In his long, navy blue chiton with a golden ivy leaf belt around his waist, he took his time towards the stairs, ascending them in a leisurely manner. His bare feet made nary a sound along the marbled hallways as he strolled, before finally reaching the door of the study, doors which he did not bother to knock at all, simply pushed open to step in, a calm, almost mocking smile on his lips. "I am a busy man, nephew. Say what you need, and make it quick. I have to get the scrolls and parchments regarding the port agreements and the adjustments to the fees we collect from the merchants, out to the necessary people by this evening."
He glanced up from the papyrus in his hand when Irakles finally decided to grace the room with his presence. Irakles didn’t bother to bow or to greet him in any way as was due the respect of the king. Instead, the older man demanded the barest minimum of contact, as he was ‘so busy’.
With a smile, he carefully laid down the papyrus and smoothed his hand over it. “Good morning, Uncle. A few minutes here will not, I’m sure, put the merchants or ports in danger. You are, after all, more than capable of doing everything that no one asked or wanted you to do.”
He stood abruptly, still smiling, gaze locked on Irakles, and came around the desk. In public, Irakles was nothing but deferential to him, as was his place. But in private, like now, the old man was belligerent and arrogant. The ego of the man was almost visible and rolled off him in waves. To others, it sometimes translated to confidence. But to his nephew, it stank of hidden treason.
The room felt small and Irakles impossibly large inside it. He kept his grin in place, happy for the first time in years to see Irakles looking impeccably perfect. His gaze flicked to the man’s bare feet. “It is amazing that you feel so at home in the palati, Uncle, as you have not lived here in such a long time.”
By now he was behind Irakles. He could just reach the door and he closed it, shutting them both inside.
“Why don’t you make yourself as comfortable in this office as you have your other one?” he offered. “You’re such a staple in my life. One I’m finding difficult of dispensing with. Come. Sit. I have some news you need to be acquainted with.”
Not every advisor looked to Irakles for guidance, although he was aware there were those who did. Some were loyal to himself and it was with these men that he had been talking with most closely. Though he’d invited Irakles to sit in the chair sitting in front of the desk, as he moved back to his place, he did not take up the chair he’d been sitting in. Rather, he stood, smiling pleasantly at his uncle, leaning his knuckles on the desk’s surface.
It didn’t matter whether Irakles obeyed and sat or stood in silent rebellion. Either way, the man would hear what he had to say.
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He glanced up from the papyrus in his hand when Irakles finally decided to grace the room with his presence. Irakles didn’t bother to bow or to greet him in any way as was due the respect of the king. Instead, the older man demanded the barest minimum of contact, as he was ‘so busy’.
With a smile, he carefully laid down the papyrus and smoothed his hand over it. “Good morning, Uncle. A few minutes here will not, I’m sure, put the merchants or ports in danger. You are, after all, more than capable of doing everything that no one asked or wanted you to do.”
He stood abruptly, still smiling, gaze locked on Irakles, and came around the desk. In public, Irakles was nothing but deferential to him, as was his place. But in private, like now, the old man was belligerent and arrogant. The ego of the man was almost visible and rolled off him in waves. To others, it sometimes translated to confidence. But to his nephew, it stank of hidden treason.
The room felt small and Irakles impossibly large inside it. He kept his grin in place, happy for the first time in years to see Irakles looking impeccably perfect. His gaze flicked to the man’s bare feet. “It is amazing that you feel so at home in the palati, Uncle, as you have not lived here in such a long time.”
By now he was behind Irakles. He could just reach the door and he closed it, shutting them both inside.
“Why don’t you make yourself as comfortable in this office as you have your other one?” he offered. “You’re such a staple in my life. One I’m finding difficult of dispensing with. Come. Sit. I have some news you need to be acquainted with.”
Not every advisor looked to Irakles for guidance, although he was aware there were those who did. Some were loyal to himself and it was with these men that he had been talking with most closely. Though he’d invited Irakles to sit in the chair sitting in front of the desk, as he moved back to his place, he did not take up the chair he’d been sitting in. Rather, he stood, smiling pleasantly at his uncle, leaning his knuckles on the desk’s surface.
It didn’t matter whether Irakles obeyed and sat or stood in silent rebellion. Either way, the man would hear what he had to say.
He glanced up from the papyrus in his hand when Irakles finally decided to grace the room with his presence. Irakles didn’t bother to bow or to greet him in any way as was due the respect of the king. Instead, the older man demanded the barest minimum of contact, as he was ‘so busy’.
With a smile, he carefully laid down the papyrus and smoothed his hand over it. “Good morning, Uncle. A few minutes here will not, I’m sure, put the merchants or ports in danger. You are, after all, more than capable of doing everything that no one asked or wanted you to do.”
He stood abruptly, still smiling, gaze locked on Irakles, and came around the desk. In public, Irakles was nothing but deferential to him, as was his place. But in private, like now, the old man was belligerent and arrogant. The ego of the man was almost visible and rolled off him in waves. To others, it sometimes translated to confidence. But to his nephew, it stank of hidden treason.
The room felt small and Irakles impossibly large inside it. He kept his grin in place, happy for the first time in years to see Irakles looking impeccably perfect. His gaze flicked to the man’s bare feet. “It is amazing that you feel so at home in the palati, Uncle, as you have not lived here in such a long time.”
By now he was behind Irakles. He could just reach the door and he closed it, shutting them both inside.
“Why don’t you make yourself as comfortable in this office as you have your other one?” he offered. “You’re such a staple in my life. One I’m finding difficult of dispensing with. Come. Sit. I have some news you need to be acquainted with.”
Not every advisor looked to Irakles for guidance, although he was aware there were those who did. Some were loyal to himself and it was with these men that he had been talking with most closely. Though he’d invited Irakles to sit in the chair sitting in front of the desk, as he moved back to his place, he did not take up the chair he’d been sitting in. Rather, he stood, smiling pleasantly at his uncle, leaning his knuckles on the desk’s surface.
It didn’t matter whether Irakles obeyed and sat or stood in silent rebellion. Either way, the man would hear what he had to say.
The smooth, almost too-confident smile had Irakles inwardly frowning in curious suspicion. He had seen Stephanos in the throes of confusion, uncertainty... it was exactly where Irakles wanted his nephew to be. The more he blundered and messed up, the more he would discredit himself and make it seem as if he was incapable of leading a kingdom. And the Senate would never agree to put someone incapable young greenling on the throne. His lips tightened at Stephanos's words, but he chose to remain silent, and instead remained standing with his hands behind his back, as he gazed down at his nephew from his tall form.
"It is my home, and would be for many years yet, nephew." Of course, there was many hidden meanings behind his sentence, that of which was left to those who would interpret it as they will. On the one hand, it would simply sound as if Irakles was at home in the palace as he spent so many years in there after retiring as general of the Taengean armies, to serve as his brother's advisor and Master of War. That he had his own study within the palace was testament as to how many hours he spent in there. Of course, if one wanted to read more into it, one could also assume that he intended to make the palace his home once again.
Of course, that would be entirely up to the interpreter.
Irakles himself however, merely returned his nephew's smile with a smooth, unruffled one of his own, gaze trailing after Stephanos, until he stood behind him. When Stepahnos was out of his gaze, Irakles lifted his chin, refusing to turn to trail his nephew's trek, but was doubly alert to the voice and movement of the younger Mikaelidas. He doubted Stephanos would try anything at such an obvious time, but he was no fool to let his guard down. With the click of the door, and as the King offered a seat, Irakles debated the option in his head.
To sit? Not that denying a simple offer of a seat would be treason of course, that would be preposterous. But in general, Irakles much preferred to remain where he wanted to. Call it a childish display of power, but he simply despised bowing to what his nephew wanted. So he merely shook his head, face in an impassive arrangement again. "No matter. I have been seated for so long, my legs would need the exercise. Go on then, what is this news you find the need to inform me of personally? Ujarak could have done a perfectly fine job delivering the news."
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The smooth, almost too-confident smile had Irakles inwardly frowning in curious suspicion. He had seen Stephanos in the throes of confusion, uncertainty... it was exactly where Irakles wanted his nephew to be. The more he blundered and messed up, the more he would discredit himself and make it seem as if he was incapable of leading a kingdom. And the Senate would never agree to put someone incapable young greenling on the throne. His lips tightened at Stephanos's words, but he chose to remain silent, and instead remained standing with his hands behind his back, as he gazed down at his nephew from his tall form.
"It is my home, and would be for many years yet, nephew." Of course, there was many hidden meanings behind his sentence, that of which was left to those who would interpret it as they will. On the one hand, it would simply sound as if Irakles was at home in the palace as he spent so many years in there after retiring as general of the Taengean armies, to serve as his brother's advisor and Master of War. That he had his own study within the palace was testament as to how many hours he spent in there. Of course, if one wanted to read more into it, one could also assume that he intended to make the palace his home once again.
Of course, that would be entirely up to the interpreter.
Irakles himself however, merely returned his nephew's smile with a smooth, unruffled one of his own, gaze trailing after Stephanos, until he stood behind him. When Stepahnos was out of his gaze, Irakles lifted his chin, refusing to turn to trail his nephew's trek, but was doubly alert to the voice and movement of the younger Mikaelidas. He doubted Stephanos would try anything at such an obvious time, but he was no fool to let his guard down. With the click of the door, and as the King offered a seat, Irakles debated the option in his head.
To sit? Not that denying a simple offer of a seat would be treason of course, that would be preposterous. But in general, Irakles much preferred to remain where he wanted to. Call it a childish display of power, but he simply despised bowing to what his nephew wanted. So he merely shook his head, face in an impassive arrangement again. "No matter. I have been seated for so long, my legs would need the exercise. Go on then, what is this news you find the need to inform me of personally? Ujarak could have done a perfectly fine job delivering the news."
The smooth, almost too-confident smile had Irakles inwardly frowning in curious suspicion. He had seen Stephanos in the throes of confusion, uncertainty... it was exactly where Irakles wanted his nephew to be. The more he blundered and messed up, the more he would discredit himself and make it seem as if he was incapable of leading a kingdom. And the Senate would never agree to put someone incapable young greenling on the throne. His lips tightened at Stephanos's words, but he chose to remain silent, and instead remained standing with his hands behind his back, as he gazed down at his nephew from his tall form.
"It is my home, and would be for many years yet, nephew." Of course, there was many hidden meanings behind his sentence, that of which was left to those who would interpret it as they will. On the one hand, it would simply sound as if Irakles was at home in the palace as he spent so many years in there after retiring as general of the Taengean armies, to serve as his brother's advisor and Master of War. That he had his own study within the palace was testament as to how many hours he spent in there. Of course, if one wanted to read more into it, one could also assume that he intended to make the palace his home once again.
Of course, that would be entirely up to the interpreter.
Irakles himself however, merely returned his nephew's smile with a smooth, unruffled one of his own, gaze trailing after Stephanos, until he stood behind him. When Stepahnos was out of his gaze, Irakles lifted his chin, refusing to turn to trail his nephew's trek, but was doubly alert to the voice and movement of the younger Mikaelidas. He doubted Stephanos would try anything at such an obvious time, but he was no fool to let his guard down. With the click of the door, and as the King offered a seat, Irakles debated the option in his head.
To sit? Not that denying a simple offer of a seat would be treason of course, that would be preposterous. But in general, Irakles much preferred to remain where he wanted to. Call it a childish display of power, but he simply despised bowing to what his nephew wanted. So he merely shook his head, face in an impassive arrangement again. "No matter. I have been seated for so long, my legs would need the exercise. Go on then, what is this news you find the need to inform me of personally? Ujarak could have done a perfectly fine job delivering the news."
His uncle was entirely predictable. It would have been funny if the very sight of him didn’t make him want to rip out the man’s throat. In this moment, though, an almost supernatural patience had possessed him. He merely went back behind the desk and sat down in his seat, glancing down at the papyrus papers on the desk’s top. All of which were clearly more important than giving Irakles the respect of eye contact as he spoke.
“It became pertinent that you should know I’m leading our fighting force to the gorge in two days. You’ve made it extremely clear that you’re busy at all times. Running this and that, doing things that no one asked you to do.”
Here, he looked up, the smile gone.
“Which means I think it’s best that you come with me. Your military genius would be better put to use on the battlefield than behind a desk, uncle. Wouldn’t you agree? Or have your best years passed you by, already?”
The last bit of his words were purely for the purposes of insult and not an attempt to goad the prince into saying yes. He didn’t need to do it. All he needed to do was order Irakles to go, and there would be no choice. Well, that wasn’t strictly true. Irkales could choose...and he hoped, rather than believed his uncle to be both stupid and stubborn enough to do it.
It was such a pity that Irakles had chosen to side with those against the crown. Whatever his own personal feelings for his uncle had been, and were now, he still had great respect for the military victories that Irakles was responsible for. Irakles had been his role model in this arena for the entirety of his life. Which was what made all of this both wickedly funny, and incredibly irksome. If the Fates were kind, he could have counted on his uncle's knowledge and support, rather than having to fight a battle on two sides; the Creed at his front and Irakles at his back.
He looked back down at the papers and picked up his reed pen, dipped it in ink, and began writing as though he was alone in the room again. After a few seconds, he glanced up, gave a wave of his hand and said, “You’re dismissed.”
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His uncle was entirely predictable. It would have been funny if the very sight of him didn’t make him want to rip out the man’s throat. In this moment, though, an almost supernatural patience had possessed him. He merely went back behind the desk and sat down in his seat, glancing down at the papyrus papers on the desk’s top. All of which were clearly more important than giving Irakles the respect of eye contact as he spoke.
“It became pertinent that you should know I’m leading our fighting force to the gorge in two days. You’ve made it extremely clear that you’re busy at all times. Running this and that, doing things that no one asked you to do.”
Here, he looked up, the smile gone.
“Which means I think it’s best that you come with me. Your military genius would be better put to use on the battlefield than behind a desk, uncle. Wouldn’t you agree? Or have your best years passed you by, already?”
The last bit of his words were purely for the purposes of insult and not an attempt to goad the prince into saying yes. He didn’t need to do it. All he needed to do was order Irakles to go, and there would be no choice. Well, that wasn’t strictly true. Irkales could choose...and he hoped, rather than believed his uncle to be both stupid and stubborn enough to do it.
It was such a pity that Irakles had chosen to side with those against the crown. Whatever his own personal feelings for his uncle had been, and were now, he still had great respect for the military victories that Irakles was responsible for. Irakles had been his role model in this arena for the entirety of his life. Which was what made all of this both wickedly funny, and incredibly irksome. If the Fates were kind, he could have counted on his uncle's knowledge and support, rather than having to fight a battle on two sides; the Creed at his front and Irakles at his back.
He looked back down at the papers and picked up his reed pen, dipped it in ink, and began writing as though he was alone in the room again. After a few seconds, he glanced up, gave a wave of his hand and said, “You’re dismissed.”
His uncle was entirely predictable. It would have been funny if the very sight of him didn’t make him want to rip out the man’s throat. In this moment, though, an almost supernatural patience had possessed him. He merely went back behind the desk and sat down in his seat, glancing down at the papyrus papers on the desk’s top. All of which were clearly more important than giving Irakles the respect of eye contact as he spoke.
“It became pertinent that you should know I’m leading our fighting force to the gorge in two days. You’ve made it extremely clear that you’re busy at all times. Running this and that, doing things that no one asked you to do.”
Here, he looked up, the smile gone.
“Which means I think it’s best that you come with me. Your military genius would be better put to use on the battlefield than behind a desk, uncle. Wouldn’t you agree? Or have your best years passed you by, already?”
The last bit of his words were purely for the purposes of insult and not an attempt to goad the prince into saying yes. He didn’t need to do it. All he needed to do was order Irakles to go, and there would be no choice. Well, that wasn’t strictly true. Irkales could choose...and he hoped, rather than believed his uncle to be both stupid and stubborn enough to do it.
It was such a pity that Irakles had chosen to side with those against the crown. Whatever his own personal feelings for his uncle had been, and were now, he still had great respect for the military victories that Irakles was responsible for. Irakles had been his role model in this arena for the entirety of his life. Which was what made all of this both wickedly funny, and incredibly irksome. If the Fates were kind, he could have counted on his uncle's knowledge and support, rather than having to fight a battle on two sides; the Creed at his front and Irakles at his back.
He looked back down at the papers and picked up his reed pen, dipped it in ink, and began writing as though he was alone in the room again. After a few seconds, he glanced up, gave a wave of his hand and said, “You’re dismissed.”
If only Stephanos had grown up with a little more responsibility and a little less devil-may-care attitude, Irakles had an inkling that his nephew would've made a fine leader. Not one to go for peace treaties, from what Irakles had seen, the elder general couldn't help but muse at what a waste it was for the two of them to be at crossroads with each other now. His chin remained at an angle tilted upwards, eyes wary as he watched the new King of his kingdom return to his seat. His hands were gripped behind his back as Stephanos spoke, each word rubbing Irakles the wrong way up. It wasn't as if he did not know Stephanos was going to lead a force to the gorge in a few days. He had been present when the King made the foolish promise to the lord at court after the coronation.
He had had no intention of following his nephew's fool plan. Instead, he had informed his scribe that he intended to work from the palace that day, even planned on visiting his sister-in-law, perhaps check in on her wellbeing. To have his plans dashed merely further increased his ire.
Meeting his nephew's gaze head on, there was a subtle shift in Irakles's jaw, when Stephanos presented it as both a challenge and a command. Not something he could deny, nor reject, damn the young upstart. If he gripped any tighter, his nails would be drawing blood. His silence was prolonged, a way Irakles used to ensure his voice did not rattle with his annoyance when he finally spoke. "A mind does not age as a body does." The prince finally responded in a slow, measured tone. He was not blind to his aging, and that he could no longer move as agile as he would like. Oh, Irakles could still wield his heavy battle axe as he enjoyed, but there was a reason why he had to retire as General of the Taengean armies, far beyond stepping in to the role of Head of House.
"I... would be glad to offer the help you seem to need, nephew." Irakles finally responded in full, after his chest had rose and fell, and the prince managed to force out a smile that did not at all reach his eyes that glittered with irritation. "After all, it has been long since you've last seen a battlefield... or so you seem to imply, has it not?"
Cocking his head to the side, the male watched as the young King started scribbling on his parchment. How easy it would be now, to just reach over and close his hands over the scrawny neck of his blonde nephew, someone he had always assumed to be too foolhardy and laissez-faire to ever deal with a Kingdom. He still had the same notion. It has not chance. What has changed, was how Irakles would deal with the matter at hand. For mark his words, he would not allow Stephanos's arse to warm that throne for long.
His dismissal had Irakles snapping his attention back, a scowl Stephanos had missed from his eyes focusing on the parchment. It had dissapeared when the younger Mikaelidas looked up,only to be replaced by an all-too serene smile. Not bothering to dip his head or even bow as many did, Irakles turned on his heels to leave, going to summon Ujarak immediately so he could return to his residence to ready his weapons and take a ride on his old war horse. Stephanos wanted him to be battle ready? His nephew may have bitten off more then he could chew.
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If only Stephanos had grown up with a little more responsibility and a little less devil-may-care attitude, Irakles had an inkling that his nephew would've made a fine leader. Not one to go for peace treaties, from what Irakles had seen, the elder general couldn't help but muse at what a waste it was for the two of them to be at crossroads with each other now. His chin remained at an angle tilted upwards, eyes wary as he watched the new King of his kingdom return to his seat. His hands were gripped behind his back as Stephanos spoke, each word rubbing Irakles the wrong way up. It wasn't as if he did not know Stephanos was going to lead a force to the gorge in a few days. He had been present when the King made the foolish promise to the lord at court after the coronation.
He had had no intention of following his nephew's fool plan. Instead, he had informed his scribe that he intended to work from the palace that day, even planned on visiting his sister-in-law, perhaps check in on her wellbeing. To have his plans dashed merely further increased his ire.
Meeting his nephew's gaze head on, there was a subtle shift in Irakles's jaw, when Stephanos presented it as both a challenge and a command. Not something he could deny, nor reject, damn the young upstart. If he gripped any tighter, his nails would be drawing blood. His silence was prolonged, a way Irakles used to ensure his voice did not rattle with his annoyance when he finally spoke. "A mind does not age as a body does." The prince finally responded in a slow, measured tone. He was not blind to his aging, and that he could no longer move as agile as he would like. Oh, Irakles could still wield his heavy battle axe as he enjoyed, but there was a reason why he had to retire as General of the Taengean armies, far beyond stepping in to the role of Head of House.
"I... would be glad to offer the help you seem to need, nephew." Irakles finally responded in full, after his chest had rose and fell, and the prince managed to force out a smile that did not at all reach his eyes that glittered with irritation. "After all, it has been long since you've last seen a battlefield... or so you seem to imply, has it not?"
Cocking his head to the side, the male watched as the young King started scribbling on his parchment. How easy it would be now, to just reach over and close his hands over the scrawny neck of his blonde nephew, someone he had always assumed to be too foolhardy and laissez-faire to ever deal with a Kingdom. He still had the same notion. It has not chance. What has changed, was how Irakles would deal with the matter at hand. For mark his words, he would not allow Stephanos's arse to warm that throne for long.
His dismissal had Irakles snapping his attention back, a scowl Stephanos had missed from his eyes focusing on the parchment. It had dissapeared when the younger Mikaelidas looked up,only to be replaced by an all-too serene smile. Not bothering to dip his head or even bow as many did, Irakles turned on his heels to leave, going to summon Ujarak immediately so he could return to his residence to ready his weapons and take a ride on his old war horse. Stephanos wanted him to be battle ready? His nephew may have bitten off more then he could chew.
If only Stephanos had grown up with a little more responsibility and a little less devil-may-care attitude, Irakles had an inkling that his nephew would've made a fine leader. Not one to go for peace treaties, from what Irakles had seen, the elder general couldn't help but muse at what a waste it was for the two of them to be at crossroads with each other now. His chin remained at an angle tilted upwards, eyes wary as he watched the new King of his kingdom return to his seat. His hands were gripped behind his back as Stephanos spoke, each word rubbing Irakles the wrong way up. It wasn't as if he did not know Stephanos was going to lead a force to the gorge in a few days. He had been present when the King made the foolish promise to the lord at court after the coronation.
He had had no intention of following his nephew's fool plan. Instead, he had informed his scribe that he intended to work from the palace that day, even planned on visiting his sister-in-law, perhaps check in on her wellbeing. To have his plans dashed merely further increased his ire.
Meeting his nephew's gaze head on, there was a subtle shift in Irakles's jaw, when Stephanos presented it as both a challenge and a command. Not something he could deny, nor reject, damn the young upstart. If he gripped any tighter, his nails would be drawing blood. His silence was prolonged, a way Irakles used to ensure his voice did not rattle with his annoyance when he finally spoke. "A mind does not age as a body does." The prince finally responded in a slow, measured tone. He was not blind to his aging, and that he could no longer move as agile as he would like. Oh, Irakles could still wield his heavy battle axe as he enjoyed, but there was a reason why he had to retire as General of the Taengean armies, far beyond stepping in to the role of Head of House.
"I... would be glad to offer the help you seem to need, nephew." Irakles finally responded in full, after his chest had rose and fell, and the prince managed to force out a smile that did not at all reach his eyes that glittered with irritation. "After all, it has been long since you've last seen a battlefield... or so you seem to imply, has it not?"
Cocking his head to the side, the male watched as the young King started scribbling on his parchment. How easy it would be now, to just reach over and close his hands over the scrawny neck of his blonde nephew, someone he had always assumed to be too foolhardy and laissez-faire to ever deal with a Kingdom. He still had the same notion. It has not chance. What has changed, was how Irakles would deal with the matter at hand. For mark his words, he would not allow Stephanos's arse to warm that throne for long.
His dismissal had Irakles snapping his attention back, a scowl Stephanos had missed from his eyes focusing on the parchment. It had dissapeared when the younger Mikaelidas looked up,only to be replaced by an all-too serene smile. Not bothering to dip his head or even bow as many did, Irakles turned on his heels to leave, going to summon Ujarak immediately so he could return to his residence to ready his weapons and take a ride on his old war horse. Stephanos wanted him to be battle ready? His nephew may have bitten off more then he could chew.
