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The trip was not going to be as long as had been previously planned. The original schedule was that Vangelis and his sister were never to have stopped in the capitol at all but to have continued directly to the Dimitrou estate some provinces outside of the city. Whilst many changes and additions had been made to the party - such as the addition of his cousin, the Lady Imeeya of Drakos - it had been only the Gods who had been the impetus to change the manner in which the crown prince of Colchis and his apparently growing entourage were to head to the Meganea; the barony of Lord Gavriil.
A major storm had broken out over the Meganea lands and, as rumour detailed, aback a startled horse from the thunder, Lord Gavriil had been taken to bed with an injured head and shoulder. Nothing disastrous of fatal by any stretch of the imagination - as proved when Lord Gavriil attended to the king's call to arms against the Creed just four days ago. But it was considered impolite to visit unto a noble who was recovering from illness or injury. As such, the party had stayed on in Vasiliadon, the honoured guests of the Leventi family who had sought to rent a property for them within the city limits - the old Order House - and they had enjoyed the hospitality of the royal Houses of Taengea for the last week... Or, at least, the ladies had. Vangelis had spent much of his time either in counsel with King Stephanos or on the back of a chariot or horse, entering into the battle against the faction known as the Drowned Ones. There he had fought, as was his normal occupation as General, and there he had been injured, but only mildly.
Since then, Vangelis had entered into a day of leisure with his sister, cousin and the eldest daughter of the Leventi House but the entire event had ended on what felt like a false note. Whilst there had been pleasantries and politeness, Selene appeared to have been in repose or annoyance by the time the Colchian family had bid the Leventis farewell and it had played on Vangelis mind a little, whenever he had the spare time to consider it. He had no idea if the ill mood was of her own person or if he had done something to offend Selene but until she felt it something worth verbalising there was little he could do on the topic and he had turned his attentions towards his next journey.
The trip to the Dimitrou land was roughly three or four hours journey by a single horse at a decent speed. With a large group travelling, the horses were reduced to a walk and it would now take an entire day for them to reach their destination.
Lord Gavriil had already returned to him home, claiming important family business awaited him but extending an invite to the king to stay at his manor before he returned to the capitol for the next Taengean Senate hearing. It had therefore been decided that Stephanos would join the group, previously led by Vangelis, heading to the Dimitrou manor three days hence.
Now, was that morning.
Vangelis had never been one to travel with great gear or equipment. As such, he was the first to be ready for travelling. His entire set of possessions were kept in a leather sack that was affixed to the back of his horse's saddle and he was settled ready for the journey. His sister and Imeeya were women so, of course, they took a little longer to be prepared for travel. Not because they had more to pack (though they did - and each came with a heavy chest to be settled on the back of a carriage) for their belongings had been prepare by servants the evening before, but because women paid far more attention to their aesthetics first thing in the morning; even when the day's activities ahead were sitting in a carriage on a bumpy road.
Vangelis would never understand propriety. But he did at least acknowledge it. And so, he waited patiently in the courtyard of the Order House, checking over the straps of each saddle, the fastenings of the horses’ gear and tackle and adopted a hands-on approach of checking all travel and safety measures that clearly had the stable hands looking nervous and awkward. They were obviously suspect that he didn't trust their work and such a thing was true but not personal. Vangelis trusted few people's efforts to be perfect.
One of the few exceptions to that rule was that of Nike of Acaris, who joined him in the courtyard not long after himself and he knew that the delay had everything to do with her responsibilities seeing to the food and servants they would take on the journey and nothing to do with the preparation of her appearance. Nike might have been a woman but she was no lady. She was a soldier. And one that he greatly respected.
By the time everything was in place; cargo, food supplies for their midday repast, footman for the carriage and the horses that were being ridden by Vangelis and Nike firmly tacked up... the sound of the clipping footsteps of a horse could be heard coming down the street beyond the gate of the Order House.
Vangelis looked up from the sleeves of his shirt - which he had been folding to his elbows as it was looking to prove to be a hot day - to witness the king arrive through a set of wrought iron gates that had been opened in expectation of his arrival. The man was dressed in fine clothes but not finery. The difference being that he would not shame his rank with such attire (as Vangelis did frequently with his riding pants and abstaining of noble togas) but he was also not making a spectacle of himself. Part of the reason for his arrival at the Order House was to stop their departure taking place from the royal palace where fanfare and attention were inescapable.
The crown prince stepped forward to greet the king and Vangelis offered a fist to his left pectoral and a dip in his frame - a shallow bow that would have been a severe insult given by a commoner but as a future king himself it became a sign of respect.
Whilst they shared their greetings and a murmured word from Stephanos that he was to speak with Vangelis whilst on the open road - away from the hovering ears of the city, Vangelis assumed - the carriage that had arrived with the king - carrying nothing but a few small crates of personal belongings, were stripped of their burdens; the cargo added to that of the carriage that already had set up for the journey to carry the Princess Athanasia and her cousin. How that was supposed to happen, Vangelis had no idea as Selene had not been the only one in thought upon leaving the Leventi estate three days ago. In fact, the visit seemed to have placed every female in his company into differing levels of discontent, but at least the two who were in his company appeared to have made up. Vangelis did not like the idea of journeying with two uptight women confined to a small space.
Perhaps the opportunity of training with the Lady Dorothea would keep Athanasia in a good enough mood. Imeeya had far surpassed her cousin in learning the ways of courtly manners so perhaps if Asia could keep her head, Imeeya would follow suit out of decorum.
Vangelis felt like rolling his eyes and sighing.
Commanding an army was so much easier than escorting women.
After another half an hour, the people were just as prepared as the belongings. A footman had taken up residence on the back of the carriage, whilst a driver took up the reins in front. Nike was already saddled and awaiting to take her position at the head of the party, geared and weaponed up to the hilt; her claymore strapped along the side of her horse and in easy access. Vangelis had folded and fastened his cloak behind his saddle, narrowing his eyes up towards the sun that was promising only dry heat for their journey, and then swung himself into position also, taking the rear of the carriage. Athanasia and Imeeya were prepared in their dress and toilette and had taken residence inside the carriage. And Stephanos was back in position on his own steed, ready to journey with them, offering Vangelis to order to head out over himself. With a nod to the king, Vangelis raised a hand. Nike, who had been watching over her shoulder, raised a fist in return and the suddenly the party was off, headed out the wrought iron gates of the Order House and into the main streets of Vasiliadon.
For the first several hours of the journey - hours that took them through the capitol and out into the countryside, the road leading south west and away from the destruction of the Gorge to the north - everything was quiet and no-one felt the need to break it. The road was dusty but there was little wind so only Vangelis' boots and his steed’s legs suffered from the fine layer of beige silt that collected on fabric and fur; it never reached the face or caused issues with speaking. But it was clear that whatever Stephanos wanted to discuss was for the ears of those present only - or perhaps even Vangelis singularly - for he did not seem to wish to talk until the party was several miles clear of the outer boundaries of the city.
Only then, did Vangelis follow Stephanos' lead, drawing his horse back so that they rode out of earshot of the servants, and turn to face the king and his concerns...
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This character is currently a work in progress.
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The trip was not going to be as long as had been previously planned. The original schedule was that Vangelis and his sister were never to have stopped in the capitol at all but to have continued directly to the Dimitrou estate some provinces outside of the city. Whilst many changes and additions had been made to the party - such as the addition of his cousin, the Lady Imeeya of Drakos - it had been only the Gods who had been the impetus to change the manner in which the crown prince of Colchis and his apparently growing entourage were to head to the Meganea; the barony of Lord Gavriil.
A major storm had broken out over the Meganea lands and, as rumour detailed, aback a startled horse from the thunder, Lord Gavriil had been taken to bed with an injured head and shoulder. Nothing disastrous of fatal by any stretch of the imagination - as proved when Lord Gavriil attended to the king's call to arms against the Creed just four days ago. But it was considered impolite to visit unto a noble who was recovering from illness or injury. As such, the party had stayed on in Vasiliadon, the honoured guests of the Leventi family who had sought to rent a property for them within the city limits - the old Order House - and they had enjoyed the hospitality of the royal Houses of Taengea for the last week... Or, at least, the ladies had. Vangelis had spent much of his time either in counsel with King Stephanos or on the back of a chariot or horse, entering into the battle against the faction known as the Drowned Ones. There he had fought, as was his normal occupation as General, and there he had been injured, but only mildly.
Since then, Vangelis had entered into a day of leisure with his sister, cousin and the eldest daughter of the Leventi House but the entire event had ended on what felt like a false note. Whilst there had been pleasantries and politeness, Selene appeared to have been in repose or annoyance by the time the Colchian family had bid the Leventis farewell and it had played on Vangelis mind a little, whenever he had the spare time to consider it. He had no idea if the ill mood was of her own person or if he had done something to offend Selene but until she felt it something worth verbalising there was little he could do on the topic and he had turned his attentions towards his next journey.
The trip to the Dimitrou land was roughly three or four hours journey by a single horse at a decent speed. With a large group travelling, the horses were reduced to a walk and it would now take an entire day for them to reach their destination.
Lord Gavriil had already returned to him home, claiming important family business awaited him but extending an invite to the king to stay at his manor before he returned to the capitol for the next Taengean Senate hearing. It had therefore been decided that Stephanos would join the group, previously led by Vangelis, heading to the Dimitrou manor three days hence.
Now, was that morning.
Vangelis had never been one to travel with great gear or equipment. As such, he was the first to be ready for travelling. His entire set of possessions were kept in a leather sack that was affixed to the back of his horse's saddle and he was settled ready for the journey. His sister and Imeeya were women so, of course, they took a little longer to be prepared for travel. Not because they had more to pack (though they did - and each came with a heavy chest to be settled on the back of a carriage) for their belongings had been prepare by servants the evening before, but because women paid far more attention to their aesthetics first thing in the morning; even when the day's activities ahead were sitting in a carriage on a bumpy road.
Vangelis would never understand propriety. But he did at least acknowledge it. And so, he waited patiently in the courtyard of the Order House, checking over the straps of each saddle, the fastenings of the horses’ gear and tackle and adopted a hands-on approach of checking all travel and safety measures that clearly had the stable hands looking nervous and awkward. They were obviously suspect that he didn't trust their work and such a thing was true but not personal. Vangelis trusted few people's efforts to be perfect.
One of the few exceptions to that rule was that of Nike of Acaris, who joined him in the courtyard not long after himself and he knew that the delay had everything to do with her responsibilities seeing to the food and servants they would take on the journey and nothing to do with the preparation of her appearance. Nike might have been a woman but she was no lady. She was a soldier. And one that he greatly respected.
By the time everything was in place; cargo, food supplies for their midday repast, footman for the carriage and the horses that were being ridden by Vangelis and Nike firmly tacked up... the sound of the clipping footsteps of a horse could be heard coming down the street beyond the gate of the Order House.
Vangelis looked up from the sleeves of his shirt - which he had been folding to his elbows as it was looking to prove to be a hot day - to witness the king arrive through a set of wrought iron gates that had been opened in expectation of his arrival. The man was dressed in fine clothes but not finery. The difference being that he would not shame his rank with such attire (as Vangelis did frequently with his riding pants and abstaining of noble togas) but he was also not making a spectacle of himself. Part of the reason for his arrival at the Order House was to stop their departure taking place from the royal palace where fanfare and attention were inescapable.
The crown prince stepped forward to greet the king and Vangelis offered a fist to his left pectoral and a dip in his frame - a shallow bow that would have been a severe insult given by a commoner but as a future king himself it became a sign of respect.
Whilst they shared their greetings and a murmured word from Stephanos that he was to speak with Vangelis whilst on the open road - away from the hovering ears of the city, Vangelis assumed - the carriage that had arrived with the king - carrying nothing but a few small crates of personal belongings, were stripped of their burdens; the cargo added to that of the carriage that already had set up for the journey to carry the Princess Athanasia and her cousin. How that was supposed to happen, Vangelis had no idea as Selene had not been the only one in thought upon leaving the Leventi estate three days ago. In fact, the visit seemed to have placed every female in his company into differing levels of discontent, but at least the two who were in his company appeared to have made up. Vangelis did not like the idea of journeying with two uptight women confined to a small space.
Perhaps the opportunity of training with the Lady Dorothea would keep Athanasia in a good enough mood. Imeeya had far surpassed her cousin in learning the ways of courtly manners so perhaps if Asia could keep her head, Imeeya would follow suit out of decorum.
Vangelis felt like rolling his eyes and sighing.
Commanding an army was so much easier than escorting women.
After another half an hour, the people were just as prepared as the belongings. A footman had taken up residence on the back of the carriage, whilst a driver took up the reins in front. Nike was already saddled and awaiting to take her position at the head of the party, geared and weaponed up to the hilt; her claymore strapped along the side of her horse and in easy access. Vangelis had folded and fastened his cloak behind his saddle, narrowing his eyes up towards the sun that was promising only dry heat for their journey, and then swung himself into position also, taking the rear of the carriage. Athanasia and Imeeya were prepared in their dress and toilette and had taken residence inside the carriage. And Stephanos was back in position on his own steed, ready to journey with them, offering Vangelis to order to head out over himself. With a nod to the king, Vangelis raised a hand. Nike, who had been watching over her shoulder, raised a fist in return and the suddenly the party was off, headed out the wrought iron gates of the Order House and into the main streets of Vasiliadon.
For the first several hours of the journey - hours that took them through the capitol and out into the countryside, the road leading south west and away from the destruction of the Gorge to the north - everything was quiet and no-one felt the need to break it. The road was dusty but there was little wind so only Vangelis' boots and his steed’s legs suffered from the fine layer of beige silt that collected on fabric and fur; it never reached the face or caused issues with speaking. But it was clear that whatever Stephanos wanted to discuss was for the ears of those present only - or perhaps even Vangelis singularly - for he did not seem to wish to talk until the party was several miles clear of the outer boundaries of the city.
Only then, did Vangelis follow Stephanos' lead, drawing his horse back so that they rode out of earshot of the servants, and turn to face the king and his concerns...
The trip was not going to be as long as had been previously planned. The original schedule was that Vangelis and his sister were never to have stopped in the capitol at all but to have continued directly to the Dimitrou estate some provinces outside of the city. Whilst many changes and additions had been made to the party - such as the addition of his cousin, the Lady Imeeya of Drakos - it had been only the Gods who had been the impetus to change the manner in which the crown prince of Colchis and his apparently growing entourage were to head to the Meganea; the barony of Lord Gavriil.
A major storm had broken out over the Meganea lands and, as rumour detailed, aback a startled horse from the thunder, Lord Gavriil had been taken to bed with an injured head and shoulder. Nothing disastrous of fatal by any stretch of the imagination - as proved when Lord Gavriil attended to the king's call to arms against the Creed just four days ago. But it was considered impolite to visit unto a noble who was recovering from illness or injury. As such, the party had stayed on in Vasiliadon, the honoured guests of the Leventi family who had sought to rent a property for them within the city limits - the old Order House - and they had enjoyed the hospitality of the royal Houses of Taengea for the last week... Or, at least, the ladies had. Vangelis had spent much of his time either in counsel with King Stephanos or on the back of a chariot or horse, entering into the battle against the faction known as the Drowned Ones. There he had fought, as was his normal occupation as General, and there he had been injured, but only mildly.
Since then, Vangelis had entered into a day of leisure with his sister, cousin and the eldest daughter of the Leventi House but the entire event had ended on what felt like a false note. Whilst there had been pleasantries and politeness, Selene appeared to have been in repose or annoyance by the time the Colchian family had bid the Leventis farewell and it had played on Vangelis mind a little, whenever he had the spare time to consider it. He had no idea if the ill mood was of her own person or if he had done something to offend Selene but until she felt it something worth verbalising there was little he could do on the topic and he had turned his attentions towards his next journey.
The trip to the Dimitrou land was roughly three or four hours journey by a single horse at a decent speed. With a large group travelling, the horses were reduced to a walk and it would now take an entire day for them to reach their destination.
Lord Gavriil had already returned to him home, claiming important family business awaited him but extending an invite to the king to stay at his manor before he returned to the capitol for the next Taengean Senate hearing. It had therefore been decided that Stephanos would join the group, previously led by Vangelis, heading to the Dimitrou manor three days hence.
Now, was that morning.
Vangelis had never been one to travel with great gear or equipment. As such, he was the first to be ready for travelling. His entire set of possessions were kept in a leather sack that was affixed to the back of his horse's saddle and he was settled ready for the journey. His sister and Imeeya were women so, of course, they took a little longer to be prepared for travel. Not because they had more to pack (though they did - and each came with a heavy chest to be settled on the back of a carriage) for their belongings had been prepare by servants the evening before, but because women paid far more attention to their aesthetics first thing in the morning; even when the day's activities ahead were sitting in a carriage on a bumpy road.
Vangelis would never understand propriety. But he did at least acknowledge it. And so, he waited patiently in the courtyard of the Order House, checking over the straps of each saddle, the fastenings of the horses’ gear and tackle and adopted a hands-on approach of checking all travel and safety measures that clearly had the stable hands looking nervous and awkward. They were obviously suspect that he didn't trust their work and such a thing was true but not personal. Vangelis trusted few people's efforts to be perfect.
One of the few exceptions to that rule was that of Nike of Acaris, who joined him in the courtyard not long after himself and he knew that the delay had everything to do with her responsibilities seeing to the food and servants they would take on the journey and nothing to do with the preparation of her appearance. Nike might have been a woman but she was no lady. She was a soldier. And one that he greatly respected.
By the time everything was in place; cargo, food supplies for their midday repast, footman for the carriage and the horses that were being ridden by Vangelis and Nike firmly tacked up... the sound of the clipping footsteps of a horse could be heard coming down the street beyond the gate of the Order House.
Vangelis looked up from the sleeves of his shirt - which he had been folding to his elbows as it was looking to prove to be a hot day - to witness the king arrive through a set of wrought iron gates that had been opened in expectation of his arrival. The man was dressed in fine clothes but not finery. The difference being that he would not shame his rank with such attire (as Vangelis did frequently with his riding pants and abstaining of noble togas) but he was also not making a spectacle of himself. Part of the reason for his arrival at the Order House was to stop their departure taking place from the royal palace where fanfare and attention were inescapable.
The crown prince stepped forward to greet the king and Vangelis offered a fist to his left pectoral and a dip in his frame - a shallow bow that would have been a severe insult given by a commoner but as a future king himself it became a sign of respect.
Whilst they shared their greetings and a murmured word from Stephanos that he was to speak with Vangelis whilst on the open road - away from the hovering ears of the city, Vangelis assumed - the carriage that had arrived with the king - carrying nothing but a few small crates of personal belongings, were stripped of their burdens; the cargo added to that of the carriage that already had set up for the journey to carry the Princess Athanasia and her cousin. How that was supposed to happen, Vangelis had no idea as Selene had not been the only one in thought upon leaving the Leventi estate three days ago. In fact, the visit seemed to have placed every female in his company into differing levels of discontent, but at least the two who were in his company appeared to have made up. Vangelis did not like the idea of journeying with two uptight women confined to a small space.
Perhaps the opportunity of training with the Lady Dorothea would keep Athanasia in a good enough mood. Imeeya had far surpassed her cousin in learning the ways of courtly manners so perhaps if Asia could keep her head, Imeeya would follow suit out of decorum.
Vangelis felt like rolling his eyes and sighing.
Commanding an army was so much easier than escorting women.
After another half an hour, the people were just as prepared as the belongings. A footman had taken up residence on the back of the carriage, whilst a driver took up the reins in front. Nike was already saddled and awaiting to take her position at the head of the party, geared and weaponed up to the hilt; her claymore strapped along the side of her horse and in easy access. Vangelis had folded and fastened his cloak behind his saddle, narrowing his eyes up towards the sun that was promising only dry heat for their journey, and then swung himself into position also, taking the rear of the carriage. Athanasia and Imeeya were prepared in their dress and toilette and had taken residence inside the carriage. And Stephanos was back in position on his own steed, ready to journey with them, offering Vangelis to order to head out over himself. With a nod to the king, Vangelis raised a hand. Nike, who had been watching over her shoulder, raised a fist in return and the suddenly the party was off, headed out the wrought iron gates of the Order House and into the main streets of Vasiliadon.
For the first several hours of the journey - hours that took them through the capitol and out into the countryside, the road leading south west and away from the destruction of the Gorge to the north - everything was quiet and no-one felt the need to break it. The road was dusty but there was little wind so only Vangelis' boots and his steed’s legs suffered from the fine layer of beige silt that collected on fabric and fur; it never reached the face or caused issues with speaking. But it was clear that whatever Stephanos wanted to discuss was for the ears of those present only - or perhaps even Vangelis singularly - for he did not seem to wish to talk until the party was several miles clear of the outer boundaries of the city.
Only then, did Vangelis follow Stephanos' lead, drawing his horse back so that they rode out of earshot of the servants, and turn to face the king and his concerns...
It was a good thing Nike was a woman who dealt well with change, because at the rate plans were changing, she was ready to toss any plans she had made, and just come up with new ones with each new day. And in all honesty, it did feel that way lately. She would get up early and check in with everyone to make sure what had changed since they had went abed the night before, and then proceed to make preparations for what was needed for the day.
Today had been no different, really, although by now Nike was really quite eager to return to Colchis. Taengea had never sat well with her, even if she was of Taengean birth. The circumstances of her upbringing has managed to mould Nike into more of a Colchian then anything, and it shows in everything from the way she worked to the way she spoke. The only day off she had gotten after their arrival in Taengea, Nike had spent training with her claymore, a weapon she was getting more and more comfortable with using, and could feel herself getting used to its weight.
The commander had donned her usual leather pants, tunic and leather armor, before strapping her claymore on to her back. The heavy boots needed a good clean, something Nike intended to do the night they returned, but for now, they would suffice as she buckled them on, and then started rousing the rest of her men in a manner not gentle at all - she had no favor saved for people who dallied, and the woman was known to be a fierce commander to any under her. Besides, they had a long trip ahead of them, one that was sure to be made slower with women travelling in carriages, and the earlier they started the better. Satisfied that the men were all now awake, if still grumbling, she headed off in the direction of the servants quarters to see if everything was in place, before finally out to the courtyard, just as the sun began to rise.
Was she surprised to see Vangelis when she entered the courtyard? Not entirely. Much of her values and habits in military had been formed by her own general, and her greeting smile had been wry, if a little amused when she saw him, before heading to check the rest of the tack on the horses to be used for the day. Picking up where Vangelis left off as the Taengean king arrived, she functioned like a shadow, simply allowing her general to proceed with his duties as she filled in the gaps he had no time to fill, confirming all was prepared for their journey, before she headed for the steed that had been alotted for her.
It was half an hour later, before everyone was ready - much to Nike's relief really. Standing around waiting usually grated on her nerves, even more so when it involved waiting upon woman. And as affectionate as the commander was when it came to the Colchian princess she had watched grow up, she still felt irritated when they were just waiting around. She was a military person afterall, and never felt truly comfortable when she was idle. It was with great relief when Vangelis finally signalled for the journey to start, and Nike vaulted on the back of her steed with a grin, clicking her tongue to direct the creature to her position at the head to lead the party. Her claymore strapped in, her daggers tucked into her boots, the female commander couldn't be happier to begin the day, leading the carriage to a rumbling start.
Her eyes was sharp as they journeyed out, albeit a little more relaxed as they made their way through the capitol and towards the countryside. It was as they neared the dustier, quieter roads, that Nike began to sit straighter up, alert as she signalled for her men to fan out, directing one further up ahead on a gallop to scout for potential danger, as she remained close at hand, especially to the carriage carrying the ladies, despite being out of earshot.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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It was a good thing Nike was a woman who dealt well with change, because at the rate plans were changing, she was ready to toss any plans she had made, and just come up with new ones with each new day. And in all honesty, it did feel that way lately. She would get up early and check in with everyone to make sure what had changed since they had went abed the night before, and then proceed to make preparations for what was needed for the day.
Today had been no different, really, although by now Nike was really quite eager to return to Colchis. Taengea had never sat well with her, even if she was of Taengean birth. The circumstances of her upbringing has managed to mould Nike into more of a Colchian then anything, and it shows in everything from the way she worked to the way she spoke. The only day off she had gotten after their arrival in Taengea, Nike had spent training with her claymore, a weapon she was getting more and more comfortable with using, and could feel herself getting used to its weight.
The commander had donned her usual leather pants, tunic and leather armor, before strapping her claymore on to her back. The heavy boots needed a good clean, something Nike intended to do the night they returned, but for now, they would suffice as she buckled them on, and then started rousing the rest of her men in a manner not gentle at all - she had no favor saved for people who dallied, and the woman was known to be a fierce commander to any under her. Besides, they had a long trip ahead of them, one that was sure to be made slower with women travelling in carriages, and the earlier they started the better. Satisfied that the men were all now awake, if still grumbling, she headed off in the direction of the servants quarters to see if everything was in place, before finally out to the courtyard, just as the sun began to rise.
Was she surprised to see Vangelis when she entered the courtyard? Not entirely. Much of her values and habits in military had been formed by her own general, and her greeting smile had been wry, if a little amused when she saw him, before heading to check the rest of the tack on the horses to be used for the day. Picking up where Vangelis left off as the Taengean king arrived, she functioned like a shadow, simply allowing her general to proceed with his duties as she filled in the gaps he had no time to fill, confirming all was prepared for their journey, before she headed for the steed that had been alotted for her.
It was half an hour later, before everyone was ready - much to Nike's relief really. Standing around waiting usually grated on her nerves, even more so when it involved waiting upon woman. And as affectionate as the commander was when it came to the Colchian princess she had watched grow up, she still felt irritated when they were just waiting around. She was a military person afterall, and never felt truly comfortable when she was idle. It was with great relief when Vangelis finally signalled for the journey to start, and Nike vaulted on the back of her steed with a grin, clicking her tongue to direct the creature to her position at the head to lead the party. Her claymore strapped in, her daggers tucked into her boots, the female commander couldn't be happier to begin the day, leading the carriage to a rumbling start.
Her eyes was sharp as they journeyed out, albeit a little more relaxed as they made their way through the capitol and towards the countryside. It was as they neared the dustier, quieter roads, that Nike began to sit straighter up, alert as she signalled for her men to fan out, directing one further up ahead on a gallop to scout for potential danger, as she remained close at hand, especially to the carriage carrying the ladies, despite being out of earshot.
It was a good thing Nike was a woman who dealt well with change, because at the rate plans were changing, she was ready to toss any plans she had made, and just come up with new ones with each new day. And in all honesty, it did feel that way lately. She would get up early and check in with everyone to make sure what had changed since they had went abed the night before, and then proceed to make preparations for what was needed for the day.
Today had been no different, really, although by now Nike was really quite eager to return to Colchis. Taengea had never sat well with her, even if she was of Taengean birth. The circumstances of her upbringing has managed to mould Nike into more of a Colchian then anything, and it shows in everything from the way she worked to the way she spoke. The only day off she had gotten after their arrival in Taengea, Nike had spent training with her claymore, a weapon she was getting more and more comfortable with using, and could feel herself getting used to its weight.
The commander had donned her usual leather pants, tunic and leather armor, before strapping her claymore on to her back. The heavy boots needed a good clean, something Nike intended to do the night they returned, but for now, they would suffice as she buckled them on, and then started rousing the rest of her men in a manner not gentle at all - she had no favor saved for people who dallied, and the woman was known to be a fierce commander to any under her. Besides, they had a long trip ahead of them, one that was sure to be made slower with women travelling in carriages, and the earlier they started the better. Satisfied that the men were all now awake, if still grumbling, she headed off in the direction of the servants quarters to see if everything was in place, before finally out to the courtyard, just as the sun began to rise.
Was she surprised to see Vangelis when she entered the courtyard? Not entirely. Much of her values and habits in military had been formed by her own general, and her greeting smile had been wry, if a little amused when she saw him, before heading to check the rest of the tack on the horses to be used for the day. Picking up where Vangelis left off as the Taengean king arrived, she functioned like a shadow, simply allowing her general to proceed with his duties as she filled in the gaps he had no time to fill, confirming all was prepared for their journey, before she headed for the steed that had been alotted for her.
It was half an hour later, before everyone was ready - much to Nike's relief really. Standing around waiting usually grated on her nerves, even more so when it involved waiting upon woman. And as affectionate as the commander was when it came to the Colchian princess she had watched grow up, she still felt irritated when they were just waiting around. She was a military person afterall, and never felt truly comfortable when she was idle. It was with great relief when Vangelis finally signalled for the journey to start, and Nike vaulted on the back of her steed with a grin, clicking her tongue to direct the creature to her position at the head to lead the party. Her claymore strapped in, her daggers tucked into her boots, the female commander couldn't be happier to begin the day, leading the carriage to a rumbling start.
Her eyes was sharp as they journeyed out, albeit a little more relaxed as they made their way through the capitol and towards the countryside. It was as they neared the dustier, quieter roads, that Nike began to sit straighter up, alert as she signalled for her men to fan out, directing one further up ahead on a gallop to scout for potential danger, as she remained close at hand, especially to the carriage carrying the ladies, despite being out of earshot.
Imeeya was not the kind of person who liked surprises or changes in plans. She liked to know what was going on so she could adequately plan for the situation. This whole trip had been a bit of a mess as far as Imeeya was concerned. While the journey by sea had been an unpleasant one for Imeeya, the problems had started way before that time. Really everything that had gone wrong with this trip had started back at the night market, where she and Asia had had a falling out when Asia had kissed, or as she now knew, had been kissed in a semi-public place, and Imeeya could not conceal her anger at such recklessness. Things had only gotten worse from there with a storm making them take a detour to stay with the Leventi family, while Vangelis decided to involve himself with the problems of Taengea as had many of the Taengean nobility and military. The results of that campaign to rid the land of the Creed had been something Imeeya had not been prepared for at all.
But now, things appeared to be heading back towards the way things were supposed to be. While the explosive conversation she and Asia had had regarding what had happened may not have looked like it could have resulted in reconciliation from the outside, things had finally gone back to normal between the two women. Imeeya was glad to have her friend back, and while she didn’t understand her cousin’s obsession with the sport, she was glad that the princess was finally getting the opportunity to practice her archery with Dorothea. Herself, she was just glad to be away from the chaos that Vasiliadon had been for her since the day she had arrived. Still, one thing had not gone back to normal. They were going to be accompanied on their trip by King Stephanos.
The day of travel, Imeeya had ridden early, donning a peplos that was suitable for travel. She wouldn’t want to ruin one of her nicer pieces of clothing if they were to encounter inclement weather or other unfortunate circumstances she didn’t want to think of lest she invite them down upon the group. Imeeya took the time to make sure her other belongings and clothes were tidily packed away in her trunk. It was surprising how much space her possessions could take up when they had several days to be spread around the room that she had been so graciously loaned by the Leventi house. Soon both she and her possessions were stowed away in the carriage awaiting the journey outside the city, and she was quickly joined by her cousin. The two of them had been left alone together away from the prying eyes of the prince, the king and those accompanying them. Who knew what trouble they might get themselves into unsupervised.
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Imeeya was not the kind of person who liked surprises or changes in plans. She liked to know what was going on so she could adequately plan for the situation. This whole trip had been a bit of a mess as far as Imeeya was concerned. While the journey by sea had been an unpleasant one for Imeeya, the problems had started way before that time. Really everything that had gone wrong with this trip had started back at the night market, where she and Asia had had a falling out when Asia had kissed, or as she now knew, had been kissed in a semi-public place, and Imeeya could not conceal her anger at such recklessness. Things had only gotten worse from there with a storm making them take a detour to stay with the Leventi family, while Vangelis decided to involve himself with the problems of Taengea as had many of the Taengean nobility and military. The results of that campaign to rid the land of the Creed had been something Imeeya had not been prepared for at all.
But now, things appeared to be heading back towards the way things were supposed to be. While the explosive conversation she and Asia had had regarding what had happened may not have looked like it could have resulted in reconciliation from the outside, things had finally gone back to normal between the two women. Imeeya was glad to have her friend back, and while she didn’t understand her cousin’s obsession with the sport, she was glad that the princess was finally getting the opportunity to practice her archery with Dorothea. Herself, she was just glad to be away from the chaos that Vasiliadon had been for her since the day she had arrived. Still, one thing had not gone back to normal. They were going to be accompanied on their trip by King Stephanos.
The day of travel, Imeeya had ridden early, donning a peplos that was suitable for travel. She wouldn’t want to ruin one of her nicer pieces of clothing if they were to encounter inclement weather or other unfortunate circumstances she didn’t want to think of lest she invite them down upon the group. Imeeya took the time to make sure her other belongings and clothes were tidily packed away in her trunk. It was surprising how much space her possessions could take up when they had several days to be spread around the room that she had been so graciously loaned by the Leventi house. Soon both she and her possessions were stowed away in the carriage awaiting the journey outside the city, and she was quickly joined by her cousin. The two of them had been left alone together away from the prying eyes of the prince, the king and those accompanying them. Who knew what trouble they might get themselves into unsupervised.
Imeeya was not the kind of person who liked surprises or changes in plans. She liked to know what was going on so she could adequately plan for the situation. This whole trip had been a bit of a mess as far as Imeeya was concerned. While the journey by sea had been an unpleasant one for Imeeya, the problems had started way before that time. Really everything that had gone wrong with this trip had started back at the night market, where she and Asia had had a falling out when Asia had kissed, or as she now knew, had been kissed in a semi-public place, and Imeeya could not conceal her anger at such recklessness. Things had only gotten worse from there with a storm making them take a detour to stay with the Leventi family, while Vangelis decided to involve himself with the problems of Taengea as had many of the Taengean nobility and military. The results of that campaign to rid the land of the Creed had been something Imeeya had not been prepared for at all.
But now, things appeared to be heading back towards the way things were supposed to be. While the explosive conversation she and Asia had had regarding what had happened may not have looked like it could have resulted in reconciliation from the outside, things had finally gone back to normal between the two women. Imeeya was glad to have her friend back, and while she didn’t understand her cousin’s obsession with the sport, she was glad that the princess was finally getting the opportunity to practice her archery with Dorothea. Herself, she was just glad to be away from the chaos that Vasiliadon had been for her since the day she had arrived. Still, one thing had not gone back to normal. They were going to be accompanied on their trip by King Stephanos.
The day of travel, Imeeya had ridden early, donning a peplos that was suitable for travel. She wouldn’t want to ruin one of her nicer pieces of clothing if they were to encounter inclement weather or other unfortunate circumstances she didn’t want to think of lest she invite them down upon the group. Imeeya took the time to make sure her other belongings and clothes were tidily packed away in her trunk. It was surprising how much space her possessions could take up when they had several days to be spread around the room that she had been so graciously loaned by the Leventi house. Soon both she and her possessions were stowed away in the carriage awaiting the journey outside the city, and she was quickly joined by her cousin. The two of them had been left alone together away from the prying eyes of the prince, the king and those accompanying them. Who knew what trouble they might get themselves into unsupervised.
What was between Lord Gavriil and Stephanos wasn’t exactly friendship but there was a sort of half scared respect on Stephanos’s part left over from childhood. Of all the courtiers he’d ever met, Gavriil was one of the more awe inspiring, or at least he had been when Stephanos was a child and a youth. The man didn’t smile. He was large, wore furs, and seemed to be eternally grave and quiet.
Now that Stephanos was a grown man, Gavriil had lost some of his more ‘terrible’ traits but the awe still lingered and with it, Stephanos’s need to remain in the lord’s good graces, even though he was now, and always had been, of higher rank. The invitation to come to the Dimitrou estate was a little bit of a surprise but he wasn’t unwilling to take it. He hadn’t been there in quite a few years. He was not close friends with Iason of Dimitrou and had very little occasion, outside of remarkable hunting opportunities, to visit the place.
What he was far more interested in was getting out of Vasiliadon, getting away from Irakles, and getting away from his rash mistake with the dead Creed leader. No one knew, save for the Order members who’d been with him at the time, and as the Order was not comprised of a bunch of gossiping women, the secret remained safe, for the time being. However, it weighed on the king. The words that had been literally laughed into and spit at his face were impossible to forget.
The experience was one of the more troubling because of the nature of it. The Creeder’s last words kept him up at night. He rubbed his eyes now as though to clear them of grit, though thankfully the carriage was not spitting out real dust. Vangelis was amazingly perceptive when he cared to be and had pulled back his horse from the carriage at the merest hint the king had of wishing to speak privately. Perhaps the Colchian prince had been waiting for this moment. It had been some hours before Stephanos had found the right avenue to bring it up.
“You fought well in the battle,” he said presently, directing his gaze forward, rather than on the person he was actually speaking to. His saddle squeaked a bit. The horse’s hooves thudded dully in the dirt. The wooden carriage wheels groaned at the ruts in the road. Birds twittered overhead. The sun beat down on their shoulders. Stephanos had on a light cloak over his golden hair and across his shoulders, not for warmth but to block out the worst of the heat. Thankfully a breeze played along the road as they made their way ever deeper into Taengea’s more wooded and verdant green vallies.
Glancing down at his horse’s silver mane, he reached out and stroked the horse on its neck, still preferring not to look over at Vangelis. “I questioned the Creed leader...but for all it was worth, I wish I’d slain him on the battlefield and brought back his head as a trophy. I feel as though I know almost nothing more of use...or nothing that wouldn’t come to light soon enough..”
Perhaps it wasn’t necessary to be this far from the carriage but he didn’t want to talk about this anywhere near Vasiliadon or where there was a risk of people overhearing them on the road. They would occasionally meet the odd farmer or pass a wagon that had turned off the road to make way for them. Any one of those people could and would perk up at the name of the Creed. It was a name any city dweller, and any of the older Taengean’s knew. Perhaps these ghosts did not haunt Colchis, but for Taengea, this was an old problem that was causing fresh mayhem.
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What was between Lord Gavriil and Stephanos wasn’t exactly friendship but there was a sort of half scared respect on Stephanos’s part left over from childhood. Of all the courtiers he’d ever met, Gavriil was one of the more awe inspiring, or at least he had been when Stephanos was a child and a youth. The man didn’t smile. He was large, wore furs, and seemed to be eternally grave and quiet.
Now that Stephanos was a grown man, Gavriil had lost some of his more ‘terrible’ traits but the awe still lingered and with it, Stephanos’s need to remain in the lord’s good graces, even though he was now, and always had been, of higher rank. The invitation to come to the Dimitrou estate was a little bit of a surprise but he wasn’t unwilling to take it. He hadn’t been there in quite a few years. He was not close friends with Iason of Dimitrou and had very little occasion, outside of remarkable hunting opportunities, to visit the place.
What he was far more interested in was getting out of Vasiliadon, getting away from Irakles, and getting away from his rash mistake with the dead Creed leader. No one knew, save for the Order members who’d been with him at the time, and as the Order was not comprised of a bunch of gossiping women, the secret remained safe, for the time being. However, it weighed on the king. The words that had been literally laughed into and spit at his face were impossible to forget.
The experience was one of the more troubling because of the nature of it. The Creeder’s last words kept him up at night. He rubbed his eyes now as though to clear them of grit, though thankfully the carriage was not spitting out real dust. Vangelis was amazingly perceptive when he cared to be and had pulled back his horse from the carriage at the merest hint the king had of wishing to speak privately. Perhaps the Colchian prince had been waiting for this moment. It had been some hours before Stephanos had found the right avenue to bring it up.
“You fought well in the battle,” he said presently, directing his gaze forward, rather than on the person he was actually speaking to. His saddle squeaked a bit. The horse’s hooves thudded dully in the dirt. The wooden carriage wheels groaned at the ruts in the road. Birds twittered overhead. The sun beat down on their shoulders. Stephanos had on a light cloak over his golden hair and across his shoulders, not for warmth but to block out the worst of the heat. Thankfully a breeze played along the road as they made their way ever deeper into Taengea’s more wooded and verdant green vallies.
Glancing down at his horse’s silver mane, he reached out and stroked the horse on its neck, still preferring not to look over at Vangelis. “I questioned the Creed leader...but for all it was worth, I wish I’d slain him on the battlefield and brought back his head as a trophy. I feel as though I know almost nothing more of use...or nothing that wouldn’t come to light soon enough..”
Perhaps it wasn’t necessary to be this far from the carriage but he didn’t want to talk about this anywhere near Vasiliadon or where there was a risk of people overhearing them on the road. They would occasionally meet the odd farmer or pass a wagon that had turned off the road to make way for them. Any one of those people could and would perk up at the name of the Creed. It was a name any city dweller, and any of the older Taengean’s knew. Perhaps these ghosts did not haunt Colchis, but for Taengea, this was an old problem that was causing fresh mayhem.
What was between Lord Gavriil and Stephanos wasn’t exactly friendship but there was a sort of half scared respect on Stephanos’s part left over from childhood. Of all the courtiers he’d ever met, Gavriil was one of the more awe inspiring, or at least he had been when Stephanos was a child and a youth. The man didn’t smile. He was large, wore furs, and seemed to be eternally grave and quiet.
Now that Stephanos was a grown man, Gavriil had lost some of his more ‘terrible’ traits but the awe still lingered and with it, Stephanos’s need to remain in the lord’s good graces, even though he was now, and always had been, of higher rank. The invitation to come to the Dimitrou estate was a little bit of a surprise but he wasn’t unwilling to take it. He hadn’t been there in quite a few years. He was not close friends with Iason of Dimitrou and had very little occasion, outside of remarkable hunting opportunities, to visit the place.
What he was far more interested in was getting out of Vasiliadon, getting away from Irakles, and getting away from his rash mistake with the dead Creed leader. No one knew, save for the Order members who’d been with him at the time, and as the Order was not comprised of a bunch of gossiping women, the secret remained safe, for the time being. However, it weighed on the king. The words that had been literally laughed into and spit at his face were impossible to forget.
The experience was one of the more troubling because of the nature of it. The Creeder’s last words kept him up at night. He rubbed his eyes now as though to clear them of grit, though thankfully the carriage was not spitting out real dust. Vangelis was amazingly perceptive when he cared to be and had pulled back his horse from the carriage at the merest hint the king had of wishing to speak privately. Perhaps the Colchian prince had been waiting for this moment. It had been some hours before Stephanos had found the right avenue to bring it up.
“You fought well in the battle,” he said presently, directing his gaze forward, rather than on the person he was actually speaking to. His saddle squeaked a bit. The horse’s hooves thudded dully in the dirt. The wooden carriage wheels groaned at the ruts in the road. Birds twittered overhead. The sun beat down on their shoulders. Stephanos had on a light cloak over his golden hair and across his shoulders, not for warmth but to block out the worst of the heat. Thankfully a breeze played along the road as they made their way ever deeper into Taengea’s more wooded and verdant green vallies.
Glancing down at his horse’s silver mane, he reached out and stroked the horse on its neck, still preferring not to look over at Vangelis. “I questioned the Creed leader...but for all it was worth, I wish I’d slain him on the battlefield and brought back his head as a trophy. I feel as though I know almost nothing more of use...or nothing that wouldn’t come to light soon enough..”
Perhaps it wasn’t necessary to be this far from the carriage but he didn’t want to talk about this anywhere near Vasiliadon or where there was a risk of people overhearing them on the road. They would occasionally meet the odd farmer or pass a wagon that had turned off the road to make way for them. Any one of those people could and would perk up at the name of the Creed. It was a name any city dweller, and any of the older Taengean’s knew. Perhaps these ghosts did not haunt Colchis, but for Taengea, this was an old problem that was causing fresh mayhem.
Having steered his horse to walk at a carefully selected speed - that of the King's own mount - Vangelis did little else to encourage the conversation that Stephanos could initiate as and when he wished. As far as Vangelis was concerned, his duty on such a journey was to the party as a whole. He watched the small group; Nike up ahead, the carriage, the few guards that rode either side... He kept them all in the clear field of his vision. Along with the surrounding lands. They had chosen this route towards the Dimitrou manor with deliberate intent. The lands long this path held no woodland until they were nearly upon the Dimitrou's front gates (or so Vangelis had been reliably informed by the chief of the guards escorting them. As such, open flatlands afforded a clear view if anyone was to stage an attack or set up some form of an ambush; a tactic impossible with so open a space. Vangelis kept all of it; from each horizon he could spot, in his mind's eye as he scanned the area and watched for any potential dangers.
This manner of surveillance he was able to conduct while also making conversation but it held no difference to him whether the king ever spoke it or if spectating on the group's safety was Vangelis' only devoted purpose on this particular journey.
After several long moments of quiet, however, the King did speak. Yet, it was not of hidden secrets and dark dealings that Vangelis had expected, but a simple compliment to his combat skills. Vangelis glanced over at the man who rode beside him and then set his vision forwards, mimicking his companion.
"Your compliments are polite but unnecessary, Your Majesty." Vangelis offered him, without much tone to his voice. "I fight when I think a cause worth it, not for the sake of kind words or gratitude." He glanced at Stephanos again, as he spoke his last - "Even from a king."
Whether his comments were what spurred Stephanos on to continue their discussion into more private matters or if he had always intended to broach the subject, Vangelis didn't know. All he was aware of was that Stephanos did eventually begin a topic that Vangelis could well understand wanting to keep out of earshot of those they travelled with. The concept of death was a poor choice for chatter when among women but even more so when it involved the monarch of a kingdom murdering a prisoner of war. At least... that was the impression Vangelis was getting from Stephanos as to the turn of events with regards to the Creed leader Nike and Gavriil had managed to secure during the battle against their brotherhood.
It was an eventuality that Vangelis had been expecting nonetheless, when the king had determined that the man be taken back to the capitol in secret. A prisoner unknown to others was a prisoner destined to die eventually. But only after certain information (and blood) had been spilled.
Listening to the king and digesting his words, Vangelis waiting a few minutes before responding, choosing his words carefully. He was here to listen, but the last thing he intended was to have the King suppose him to be pushing for information he wanted not to give. Then again... subtle word play had never been Vangelis' style.
"What did he tell you?" The Prince asked the King in his atypical blunt manner.
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Having steered his horse to walk at a carefully selected speed - that of the King's own mount - Vangelis did little else to encourage the conversation that Stephanos could initiate as and when he wished. As far as Vangelis was concerned, his duty on such a journey was to the party as a whole. He watched the small group; Nike up ahead, the carriage, the few guards that rode either side... He kept them all in the clear field of his vision. Along with the surrounding lands. They had chosen this route towards the Dimitrou manor with deliberate intent. The lands long this path held no woodland until they were nearly upon the Dimitrou's front gates (or so Vangelis had been reliably informed by the chief of the guards escorting them. As such, open flatlands afforded a clear view if anyone was to stage an attack or set up some form of an ambush; a tactic impossible with so open a space. Vangelis kept all of it; from each horizon he could spot, in his mind's eye as he scanned the area and watched for any potential dangers.
This manner of surveillance he was able to conduct while also making conversation but it held no difference to him whether the king ever spoke it or if spectating on the group's safety was Vangelis' only devoted purpose on this particular journey.
After several long moments of quiet, however, the King did speak. Yet, it was not of hidden secrets and dark dealings that Vangelis had expected, but a simple compliment to his combat skills. Vangelis glanced over at the man who rode beside him and then set his vision forwards, mimicking his companion.
"Your compliments are polite but unnecessary, Your Majesty." Vangelis offered him, without much tone to his voice. "I fight when I think a cause worth it, not for the sake of kind words or gratitude." He glanced at Stephanos again, as he spoke his last - "Even from a king."
Whether his comments were what spurred Stephanos on to continue their discussion into more private matters or if he had always intended to broach the subject, Vangelis didn't know. All he was aware of was that Stephanos did eventually begin a topic that Vangelis could well understand wanting to keep out of earshot of those they travelled with. The concept of death was a poor choice for chatter when among women but even more so when it involved the monarch of a kingdom murdering a prisoner of war. At least... that was the impression Vangelis was getting from Stephanos as to the turn of events with regards to the Creed leader Nike and Gavriil had managed to secure during the battle against their brotherhood.
It was an eventuality that Vangelis had been expecting nonetheless, when the king had determined that the man be taken back to the capitol in secret. A prisoner unknown to others was a prisoner destined to die eventually. But only after certain information (and blood) had been spilled.
Listening to the king and digesting his words, Vangelis waiting a few minutes before responding, choosing his words carefully. He was here to listen, but the last thing he intended was to have the King suppose him to be pushing for information he wanted not to give. Then again... subtle word play had never been Vangelis' style.
"What did he tell you?" The Prince asked the King in his atypical blunt manner.
Having steered his horse to walk at a carefully selected speed - that of the King's own mount - Vangelis did little else to encourage the conversation that Stephanos could initiate as and when he wished. As far as Vangelis was concerned, his duty on such a journey was to the party as a whole. He watched the small group; Nike up ahead, the carriage, the few guards that rode either side... He kept them all in the clear field of his vision. Along with the surrounding lands. They had chosen this route towards the Dimitrou manor with deliberate intent. The lands long this path held no woodland until they were nearly upon the Dimitrou's front gates (or so Vangelis had been reliably informed by the chief of the guards escorting them. As such, open flatlands afforded a clear view if anyone was to stage an attack or set up some form of an ambush; a tactic impossible with so open a space. Vangelis kept all of it; from each horizon he could spot, in his mind's eye as he scanned the area and watched for any potential dangers.
This manner of surveillance he was able to conduct while also making conversation but it held no difference to him whether the king ever spoke it or if spectating on the group's safety was Vangelis' only devoted purpose on this particular journey.
After several long moments of quiet, however, the King did speak. Yet, it was not of hidden secrets and dark dealings that Vangelis had expected, but a simple compliment to his combat skills. Vangelis glanced over at the man who rode beside him and then set his vision forwards, mimicking his companion.
"Your compliments are polite but unnecessary, Your Majesty." Vangelis offered him, without much tone to his voice. "I fight when I think a cause worth it, not for the sake of kind words or gratitude." He glanced at Stephanos again, as he spoke his last - "Even from a king."
Whether his comments were what spurred Stephanos on to continue their discussion into more private matters or if he had always intended to broach the subject, Vangelis didn't know. All he was aware of was that Stephanos did eventually begin a topic that Vangelis could well understand wanting to keep out of earshot of those they travelled with. The concept of death was a poor choice for chatter when among women but even more so when it involved the monarch of a kingdom murdering a prisoner of war. At least... that was the impression Vangelis was getting from Stephanos as to the turn of events with regards to the Creed leader Nike and Gavriil had managed to secure during the battle against their brotherhood.
It was an eventuality that Vangelis had been expecting nonetheless, when the king had determined that the man be taken back to the capitol in secret. A prisoner unknown to others was a prisoner destined to die eventually. But only after certain information (and blood) had been spilled.
Listening to the king and digesting his words, Vangelis waiting a few minutes before responding, choosing his words carefully. He was here to listen, but the last thing he intended was to have the King suppose him to be pushing for information he wanted not to give. Then again... subtle word play had never been Vangelis' style.
"What did he tell you?" The Prince asked the King in his atypical blunt manner.
When Chrysanthe had started off down the road to Megania, she had been in high spirits. This had been the opportunity that Chrysanthe had been looking forward to for what felt like years. She had watched with envy as the other older girls at Rhode’s home had found husbands, or positions doing domestic work while she had remained there, Rhode refusing to give her any means to leave, or even the clothes on her back. Well, Chrysanthe was done with that. She had bought herself a new, if plain, unbleached cotton chiton that Rhode couldn’t claim she had stolen from her. Chrysanthe could have afforded something nicer with the money from the bangles that had been gifted to her, but she didn’t know how long she was going to have to live on this money before she could find work. She had heard that there were people hiring in Meganea after the storm, but who knew how easy it would be to actually obtain a job, or if she might need to pay an apprentice fee. Besides, she had left a substantial portion of her money to Rhode so that the children didn’t suffer for her absence.
Chrysanthe hadn’t bothered to purchase herself a bag to carry her things in. Instead, she had sewn together a few pieces of the cloth she had woven until the fabric was large enough to wrap around a spare chiton and an old rag doll she had been given by her mother. She had thought that she had made the bag an adequate size, but by the time she had been to the market to get food for the trip, her little bindle was practically splitting at the seams with dried fruit, nuts, and bread, still it seemed to be holding its shape.
Chrysanthe began the trip early in the day, from what she had been able to gather, she should be able to cover the distance by nightfall and not have to waste any more of her precious money on a place to spend the night. Still, it had been a long time since she had had to walk so far, and as the sun rose overhead, she realized that she may have underestimated the stamina needed for the journey. She wasn’t about to let this deter her from her goal, and she pressed on despite the ache that was slowly growing in her calves and feet. She had almost convinced herself that the walk was going to be doable when she heard a ripping sound as one of the seams of her makeshift sack sprung open. She cursed her own hasty sewing as she attempted to chase down the rolls, figs, and nuts that had rolled every which way across the dusty road.
She was so distracted by trying to collect her various bits and pieces that she didn’t notice the approaching party until they were almost on top of her. Looking up to see a guard on his horse staring down at her, she tried to scramble out of the way, clutching her things close to her, lest they fall out of her grip and roll into their path. ”Sorry, my lord. I’ll just be getting out of your way.” She glanced back up at them again as she shuffled off to the side starting to stuff her things back into the ruins of her bag, seeing more guards escorting a carriage approaching. Her eyes widened as she noticed the number of guards. It must be someone important they were escorting. She frantically tried to shove her things back into her sack, only for them to fall back through the hole as she scrambled to the side of the road.
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When Chrysanthe had started off down the road to Megania, she had been in high spirits. This had been the opportunity that Chrysanthe had been looking forward to for what felt like years. She had watched with envy as the other older girls at Rhode’s home had found husbands, or positions doing domestic work while she had remained there, Rhode refusing to give her any means to leave, or even the clothes on her back. Well, Chrysanthe was done with that. She had bought herself a new, if plain, unbleached cotton chiton that Rhode couldn’t claim she had stolen from her. Chrysanthe could have afforded something nicer with the money from the bangles that had been gifted to her, but she didn’t know how long she was going to have to live on this money before she could find work. She had heard that there were people hiring in Meganea after the storm, but who knew how easy it would be to actually obtain a job, or if she might need to pay an apprentice fee. Besides, she had left a substantial portion of her money to Rhode so that the children didn’t suffer for her absence.
Chrysanthe hadn’t bothered to purchase herself a bag to carry her things in. Instead, she had sewn together a few pieces of the cloth she had woven until the fabric was large enough to wrap around a spare chiton and an old rag doll she had been given by her mother. She had thought that she had made the bag an adequate size, but by the time she had been to the market to get food for the trip, her little bindle was practically splitting at the seams with dried fruit, nuts, and bread, still it seemed to be holding its shape.
Chrysanthe began the trip early in the day, from what she had been able to gather, she should be able to cover the distance by nightfall and not have to waste any more of her precious money on a place to spend the night. Still, it had been a long time since she had had to walk so far, and as the sun rose overhead, she realized that she may have underestimated the stamina needed for the journey. She wasn’t about to let this deter her from her goal, and she pressed on despite the ache that was slowly growing in her calves and feet. She had almost convinced herself that the walk was going to be doable when she heard a ripping sound as one of the seams of her makeshift sack sprung open. She cursed her own hasty sewing as she attempted to chase down the rolls, figs, and nuts that had rolled every which way across the dusty road.
She was so distracted by trying to collect her various bits and pieces that she didn’t notice the approaching party until they were almost on top of her. Looking up to see a guard on his horse staring down at her, she tried to scramble out of the way, clutching her things close to her, lest they fall out of her grip and roll into their path. ”Sorry, my lord. I’ll just be getting out of your way.” She glanced back up at them again as she shuffled off to the side starting to stuff her things back into the ruins of her bag, seeing more guards escorting a carriage approaching. Her eyes widened as she noticed the number of guards. It must be someone important they were escorting. She frantically tried to shove her things back into her sack, only for them to fall back through the hole as she scrambled to the side of the road.
When Chrysanthe had started off down the road to Megania, she had been in high spirits. This had been the opportunity that Chrysanthe had been looking forward to for what felt like years. She had watched with envy as the other older girls at Rhode’s home had found husbands, or positions doing domestic work while she had remained there, Rhode refusing to give her any means to leave, or even the clothes on her back. Well, Chrysanthe was done with that. She had bought herself a new, if plain, unbleached cotton chiton that Rhode couldn’t claim she had stolen from her. Chrysanthe could have afforded something nicer with the money from the bangles that had been gifted to her, but she didn’t know how long she was going to have to live on this money before she could find work. She had heard that there were people hiring in Meganea after the storm, but who knew how easy it would be to actually obtain a job, or if she might need to pay an apprentice fee. Besides, she had left a substantial portion of her money to Rhode so that the children didn’t suffer for her absence.
Chrysanthe hadn’t bothered to purchase herself a bag to carry her things in. Instead, she had sewn together a few pieces of the cloth she had woven until the fabric was large enough to wrap around a spare chiton and an old rag doll she had been given by her mother. She had thought that she had made the bag an adequate size, but by the time she had been to the market to get food for the trip, her little bindle was practically splitting at the seams with dried fruit, nuts, and bread, still it seemed to be holding its shape.
Chrysanthe began the trip early in the day, from what she had been able to gather, she should be able to cover the distance by nightfall and not have to waste any more of her precious money on a place to spend the night. Still, it had been a long time since she had had to walk so far, and as the sun rose overhead, she realized that she may have underestimated the stamina needed for the journey. She wasn’t about to let this deter her from her goal, and she pressed on despite the ache that was slowly growing in her calves and feet. She had almost convinced herself that the walk was going to be doable when she heard a ripping sound as one of the seams of her makeshift sack sprung open. She cursed her own hasty sewing as she attempted to chase down the rolls, figs, and nuts that had rolled every which way across the dusty road.
She was so distracted by trying to collect her various bits and pieces that she didn’t notice the approaching party until they were almost on top of her. Looking up to see a guard on his horse staring down at her, she tried to scramble out of the way, clutching her things close to her, lest they fall out of her grip and roll into their path. ”Sorry, my lord. I’ll just be getting out of your way.” She glanced back up at them again as she shuffled off to the side starting to stuff her things back into the ruins of her bag, seeing more guards escorting a carriage approaching. Her eyes widened as she noticed the number of guards. It must be someone important they were escorting. She frantically tried to shove her things back into her sack, only for them to fall back through the hole as she scrambled to the side of the road.
The road to Megania had been, so far anyway, undisturbed. With her weapons on hand and her men distributed evenly to protect the main bulk of the royal carriage and the two royal ladies they carried, Nike's eyes were sharp as she led the entourage, allowing Vangelis to have his conversation with the young King of Taengea. To a certain extent, Nike found it somewhat odd that the young King would be joining them in their trip to see the Dimitrou family, yet she was not one to question, and simply carried out her orders.
Watching as the peasants and people who lived on the outskirts of the capitol and various provinces avoid the large entourage, the Commander would've missed the woman in the middle of the road chasing after various bits and pieces, had her steed not thrown its head in dislike of being disturbed. The gelding was quickly hushed once Nike raised a hand to stop the rest of the entourage, and only when the steed had settled, did Nike's eyes meet the large ones of the woman they had almost trampled over, who now seemed scrambled out of their way.
Nike's eyes followed the retreating woman, and watched as her eyes widened when she saw the large entourage. Unable to help but notice at how she clutched at her items, obvious that a bag had burst a seam somewhere, Nike turned to her saddle's rucksack and pulled out a large piece of material she would otherwise use to rubdown her horse, and handed it to the lady, sure she could find some other material for a rubdown upon arrival at the Dimitrou estate.
"Are you headed somewhere, my lady?" Nike's voice while rough, was not at all unkind as she waited for the woman to take the material she offered as a way of acting as a temporary bag. "I am no lord, but we do have the Crown Prince of Colchis, and the King of Taengea with us. Perhaps a little eye on the road would be beneficial, for you were in quite a spot of danger earlier." It was no wonder Nike occasionally had ladies smiling coquettishly at her, for as a man, she posed quite a dashing, gentlemanly figure, if not for the obvious biological reasons why she was not interested in any of them.
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The road to Megania had been, so far anyway, undisturbed. With her weapons on hand and her men distributed evenly to protect the main bulk of the royal carriage and the two royal ladies they carried, Nike's eyes were sharp as she led the entourage, allowing Vangelis to have his conversation with the young King of Taengea. To a certain extent, Nike found it somewhat odd that the young King would be joining them in their trip to see the Dimitrou family, yet she was not one to question, and simply carried out her orders.
Watching as the peasants and people who lived on the outskirts of the capitol and various provinces avoid the large entourage, the Commander would've missed the woman in the middle of the road chasing after various bits and pieces, had her steed not thrown its head in dislike of being disturbed. The gelding was quickly hushed once Nike raised a hand to stop the rest of the entourage, and only when the steed had settled, did Nike's eyes meet the large ones of the woman they had almost trampled over, who now seemed scrambled out of their way.
Nike's eyes followed the retreating woman, and watched as her eyes widened when she saw the large entourage. Unable to help but notice at how she clutched at her items, obvious that a bag had burst a seam somewhere, Nike turned to her saddle's rucksack and pulled out a large piece of material she would otherwise use to rubdown her horse, and handed it to the lady, sure she could find some other material for a rubdown upon arrival at the Dimitrou estate.
"Are you headed somewhere, my lady?" Nike's voice while rough, was not at all unkind as she waited for the woman to take the material she offered as a way of acting as a temporary bag. "I am no lord, but we do have the Crown Prince of Colchis, and the King of Taengea with us. Perhaps a little eye on the road would be beneficial, for you were in quite a spot of danger earlier." It was no wonder Nike occasionally had ladies smiling coquettishly at her, for as a man, she posed quite a dashing, gentlemanly figure, if not for the obvious biological reasons why she was not interested in any of them.
The road to Megania had been, so far anyway, undisturbed. With her weapons on hand and her men distributed evenly to protect the main bulk of the royal carriage and the two royal ladies they carried, Nike's eyes were sharp as she led the entourage, allowing Vangelis to have his conversation with the young King of Taengea. To a certain extent, Nike found it somewhat odd that the young King would be joining them in their trip to see the Dimitrou family, yet she was not one to question, and simply carried out her orders.
Watching as the peasants and people who lived on the outskirts of the capitol and various provinces avoid the large entourage, the Commander would've missed the woman in the middle of the road chasing after various bits and pieces, had her steed not thrown its head in dislike of being disturbed. The gelding was quickly hushed once Nike raised a hand to stop the rest of the entourage, and only when the steed had settled, did Nike's eyes meet the large ones of the woman they had almost trampled over, who now seemed scrambled out of their way.
Nike's eyes followed the retreating woman, and watched as her eyes widened when she saw the large entourage. Unable to help but notice at how she clutched at her items, obvious that a bag had burst a seam somewhere, Nike turned to her saddle's rucksack and pulled out a large piece of material she would otherwise use to rubdown her horse, and handed it to the lady, sure she could find some other material for a rubdown upon arrival at the Dimitrou estate.
"Are you headed somewhere, my lady?" Nike's voice while rough, was not at all unkind as she waited for the woman to take the material she offered as a way of acting as a temporary bag. "I am no lord, but we do have the Crown Prince of Colchis, and the King of Taengea with us. Perhaps a little eye on the road would be beneficial, for you were in quite a spot of danger earlier." It was no wonder Nike occasionally had ladies smiling coquettishly at her, for as a man, she posed quite a dashing, gentlemanly figure, if not for the obvious biological reasons why she was not interested in any of them.
Vangelis was the kind of man that was easy to respect. He was the sort of person that Stephanos wanted at his side in battle. But he was the worst person to be partnered with on a trip like this. For one, there was no small talk of any kind. For hours. At first, he’d been alright with this. Everything they said would have been overheard by someone near the city. Then, of course, the country had engulfed them. They’d left behind the buildings and gated homes of Vasiliadon and had crossed into the flat lands where horses grazed and where they’d fought the battle against the Creed not too many days ago.
He was happy to hold his tongue here, too, because it didn’t seem an auspicious time to speak about what he’d wanted to. While they were passing the gorge, he’d taken the opportunity to glance inside and see the charred, blackened insides. Scavengers and carrion birds had already swooped in to plunder the bodies, but no living soul from the city had bothered to give any of those trapped inside a proper burial. Let them all stay on the banks of the Styx. Even that was too kind a punishment.
Then, of course, they’d left that behind too. That was where the boredom began to set in. The utter monotony of the road. Commander Nike rode at the head of the group, separated by the carriage and its groaning wheels. Then, he and Vangelis brought up the rear. A high pitched, intermittent squeak from the leather threatened to drive him crazy. He watched the wooden wheels of the carriage grind and whine, making a cracking sound at every rock or divot in the road. Each hoof drop was a dull thud, sometimes accompanied by the sharp sound of the horse kicking a stone, only to kick it once or twice more before moving on.
He couldn’t take it.
For some insane reason, he’d been waiting for Vangelis to speak first. About literally anything. In the end, he was the one that had broken the silence and picked the battle to talk about, only to have that thrown back in his face. Stephanos shook his head. It was just like a Colchian to not be able to accept a compliment or to extend one back. He hadn’t been saying it to stroke Vangelis’s already over inflated ego. It had been the truth but now, with that sort of response, he wished he hadn’t said it at all.
Stephanos threw him a look but then directed his gaze forward again and mentioned the Creed leader. He had meant to broach this subject but he’d wanted to work their way around to it a little more organically. Like in conversation. However, if Vangelis was determined to be the worst companion in the history of horseback road trips, he decided he’d better just have whatever he was going to say out in the open and to be blunt about it. Since it had been Vangelis’s grand idea to question the man instead of murder him, Stephanos wanted the prince to be good and sure to understand filleting the Creed leader on the battlefield would have been far more satisfying than what had actually happened.
“He said I am ‘not safe within my own house’.” His mouth took on a bitter twist and he swung his eyes to Vangelis. “There wasn’t much beyond that that I couldn’t have either guessed or found out with time. Even that...I’m sure he means Irakles. It was the way he said it - like this is a person who means something to me.”
There was something bothering him in all of it though. “What...I didn’t get to ask him, before I shattered his face, is, if it is Irakles...then why? Why would the Creed work with him at all? That’s the part I can’t reconcile. Either my uncle had nothing to do with this and is incredibly happy to take advantage of the situation, or he’s working with a sworn enemy of Taengea. Neither of which fit very well.”
At that moment, his attention was taken by a scuffle up ahead. Commander Nike was speaking with someone he could not see. It brought him back out of the dark mood that had threatened to drag him back down into the walking nightmare he lived at home. Here, though, they were out in the warm sunshine and the pleasant, open air. He fought off the hopeless feeling by grasping for something that was sure to gain him no end of entertainment later.
“Vangelis, what flower is your favorite, by the way?”
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Vangelis was the kind of man that was easy to respect. He was the sort of person that Stephanos wanted at his side in battle. But he was the worst person to be partnered with on a trip like this. For one, there was no small talk of any kind. For hours. At first, he’d been alright with this. Everything they said would have been overheard by someone near the city. Then, of course, the country had engulfed them. They’d left behind the buildings and gated homes of Vasiliadon and had crossed into the flat lands where horses grazed and where they’d fought the battle against the Creed not too many days ago.
He was happy to hold his tongue here, too, because it didn’t seem an auspicious time to speak about what he’d wanted to. While they were passing the gorge, he’d taken the opportunity to glance inside and see the charred, blackened insides. Scavengers and carrion birds had already swooped in to plunder the bodies, but no living soul from the city had bothered to give any of those trapped inside a proper burial. Let them all stay on the banks of the Styx. Even that was too kind a punishment.
Then, of course, they’d left that behind too. That was where the boredom began to set in. The utter monotony of the road. Commander Nike rode at the head of the group, separated by the carriage and its groaning wheels. Then, he and Vangelis brought up the rear. A high pitched, intermittent squeak from the leather threatened to drive him crazy. He watched the wooden wheels of the carriage grind and whine, making a cracking sound at every rock or divot in the road. Each hoof drop was a dull thud, sometimes accompanied by the sharp sound of the horse kicking a stone, only to kick it once or twice more before moving on.
He couldn’t take it.
For some insane reason, he’d been waiting for Vangelis to speak first. About literally anything. In the end, he was the one that had broken the silence and picked the battle to talk about, only to have that thrown back in his face. Stephanos shook his head. It was just like a Colchian to not be able to accept a compliment or to extend one back. He hadn’t been saying it to stroke Vangelis’s already over inflated ego. It had been the truth but now, with that sort of response, he wished he hadn’t said it at all.
Stephanos threw him a look but then directed his gaze forward again and mentioned the Creed leader. He had meant to broach this subject but he’d wanted to work their way around to it a little more organically. Like in conversation. However, if Vangelis was determined to be the worst companion in the history of horseback road trips, he decided he’d better just have whatever he was going to say out in the open and to be blunt about it. Since it had been Vangelis’s grand idea to question the man instead of murder him, Stephanos wanted the prince to be good and sure to understand filleting the Creed leader on the battlefield would have been far more satisfying than what had actually happened.
“He said I am ‘not safe within my own house’.” His mouth took on a bitter twist and he swung his eyes to Vangelis. “There wasn’t much beyond that that I couldn’t have either guessed or found out with time. Even that...I’m sure he means Irakles. It was the way he said it - like this is a person who means something to me.”
There was something bothering him in all of it though. “What...I didn’t get to ask him, before I shattered his face, is, if it is Irakles...then why? Why would the Creed work with him at all? That’s the part I can’t reconcile. Either my uncle had nothing to do with this and is incredibly happy to take advantage of the situation, or he’s working with a sworn enemy of Taengea. Neither of which fit very well.”
At that moment, his attention was taken by a scuffle up ahead. Commander Nike was speaking with someone he could not see. It brought him back out of the dark mood that had threatened to drag him back down into the walking nightmare he lived at home. Here, though, they were out in the warm sunshine and the pleasant, open air. He fought off the hopeless feeling by grasping for something that was sure to gain him no end of entertainment later.
“Vangelis, what flower is your favorite, by the way?”
Vangelis was the kind of man that was easy to respect. He was the sort of person that Stephanos wanted at his side in battle. But he was the worst person to be partnered with on a trip like this. For one, there was no small talk of any kind. For hours. At first, he’d been alright with this. Everything they said would have been overheard by someone near the city. Then, of course, the country had engulfed them. They’d left behind the buildings and gated homes of Vasiliadon and had crossed into the flat lands where horses grazed and where they’d fought the battle against the Creed not too many days ago.
He was happy to hold his tongue here, too, because it didn’t seem an auspicious time to speak about what he’d wanted to. While they were passing the gorge, he’d taken the opportunity to glance inside and see the charred, blackened insides. Scavengers and carrion birds had already swooped in to plunder the bodies, but no living soul from the city had bothered to give any of those trapped inside a proper burial. Let them all stay on the banks of the Styx. Even that was too kind a punishment.
Then, of course, they’d left that behind too. That was where the boredom began to set in. The utter monotony of the road. Commander Nike rode at the head of the group, separated by the carriage and its groaning wheels. Then, he and Vangelis brought up the rear. A high pitched, intermittent squeak from the leather threatened to drive him crazy. He watched the wooden wheels of the carriage grind and whine, making a cracking sound at every rock or divot in the road. Each hoof drop was a dull thud, sometimes accompanied by the sharp sound of the horse kicking a stone, only to kick it once or twice more before moving on.
He couldn’t take it.
For some insane reason, he’d been waiting for Vangelis to speak first. About literally anything. In the end, he was the one that had broken the silence and picked the battle to talk about, only to have that thrown back in his face. Stephanos shook his head. It was just like a Colchian to not be able to accept a compliment or to extend one back. He hadn’t been saying it to stroke Vangelis’s already over inflated ego. It had been the truth but now, with that sort of response, he wished he hadn’t said it at all.
Stephanos threw him a look but then directed his gaze forward again and mentioned the Creed leader. He had meant to broach this subject but he’d wanted to work their way around to it a little more organically. Like in conversation. However, if Vangelis was determined to be the worst companion in the history of horseback road trips, he decided he’d better just have whatever he was going to say out in the open and to be blunt about it. Since it had been Vangelis’s grand idea to question the man instead of murder him, Stephanos wanted the prince to be good and sure to understand filleting the Creed leader on the battlefield would have been far more satisfying than what had actually happened.
“He said I am ‘not safe within my own house’.” His mouth took on a bitter twist and he swung his eyes to Vangelis. “There wasn’t much beyond that that I couldn’t have either guessed or found out with time. Even that...I’m sure he means Irakles. It was the way he said it - like this is a person who means something to me.”
There was something bothering him in all of it though. “What...I didn’t get to ask him, before I shattered his face, is, if it is Irakles...then why? Why would the Creed work with him at all? That’s the part I can’t reconcile. Either my uncle had nothing to do with this and is incredibly happy to take advantage of the situation, or he’s working with a sworn enemy of Taengea. Neither of which fit very well.”
At that moment, his attention was taken by a scuffle up ahead. Commander Nike was speaking with someone he could not see. It brought him back out of the dark mood that had threatened to drag him back down into the walking nightmare he lived at home. Here, though, they were out in the warm sunshine and the pleasant, open air. He fought off the hopeless feeling by grasping for something that was sure to gain him no end of entertainment later.
“Vangelis, what flower is your favorite, by the way?”
Vangelis was not a good conversationalist, but he was an honest one. And an efficient one. Some people admired that and enjoyed the fact that they didn't have to dance around subjects or spend minutes and hours exchanging pleasantries they didn't feel before they could simply ask the question that had been their primary purpose for the conversation in the first place. The liked that, to Vangelis, communication was about effectiveness. You had a question. He answered it. It was as simple as that. And it was his expectation that community should flow exactly the way in the opposite direction that had most people who enjoyed the pleasantries of talking, feeling that he was either blunt or rude. He didn't both to pad out his words or fluff up another person's ego. If he required information from someone, he demanded it. And, luckily, his role and positions as both prince and military general meant that people gave him the information he sought - whether they thought him rude for the manner in which he did so, or not.
Stephanos appeared to fall into the category of people who liked to chatter or waste time with empty words, simply for the same of social convention and polite exchanges. Vangelis had no problem with this. He simply didn't alter his own means of communication to match. Which meant the King of Taengea would just have to simmer with his own issues on the topic.
When the man finally caved and offered him what the leader of the Creed had divulged before Stephanos had dispatched him, his brows lowered in thought.
"No-one considers themselves a villain." He simply stated to Stephanos' assurances that the options before him didn't make sense; that his uncle being someone actively involved in the Creed held little logic. "It's been my experience that those who break social law simply believe their end goal to be more important than the means of achieving it. What does your Uncle get out of the Creed's attack? Is the end result worth the damage paid by Taengea? In his eyes?"
Vangelis turned his attentions forward again with a soft shrug.
"Either way, innocent or guilty, you won't be certain without evidence either way." He told the man, knowing the king to already know this. "Do you have someone within your House whose loyalty you can hold stronger than your Uncle?" If the man was going to investigate the Prince then it had to be via someone within his own Household or with significant rank to be able to poke his nose where it shouldn't be without getting caught. But anyone of that level of access would be close to Prince Irakles and could already be loyal to the great General of Taengea.
It didn't occur to Vangelis to state that Stephanos was crazy, that his assumptions based on very little. Sometimes, in the heat of battle or at the negotiation table for peace talks, one had to go with gut instinct, to try and read other people and understand which way their hearts were leaning. Stephanos had a reputation for being a little overtly active with the ladies of Court and with a wine bottle but he had never developed a reputation for being stupid or paranoid. If the man suspected something about his uncle - a man he had been raised to respect - then something had to be gnawing at him strongly to make him suspect such a thing.
Not to mention that this wasn't Vangelis' problem. The Creed were, most definitely - for when they had grown tired of terrorising Taengea, where would they turn their attentions to next? - but whether the cult group had connections within Stephanos' own House was for him to decide and act upon. It was not for Vangelis to tell him what he should and shouldn't do, only the options that were open for his own choice.
Before Stephanos could answer him, however, Vangelis spotted Nike bringing her steed to a stop and, a few moments later, the carriage drew to a slow also. As Stephanos and Vangelis' own mounts drew closer to the group once more, their conversation on hold until their words were once again private - Vangelis's palm fell to the hilt of his sword at his hip.
It was in that moment that Stephanos asked him his favourite flower.
Vangelis turned to glance towards the king with an expression that suggested the man had totally lost his mind - Or at least it would have if Vangelis didn't keep most of his emotions from his face - before moving his attention back to the road.
"Status, Nike?" He called upfront, wanting to know what the hold-up was, unable to see the small frame of the young woman on the other side of the carriage.
Whilst he remained sharp of any potential danger, Vangelis' mind went to the blue flowers his mother was a fan of placing around the Kotas manor. He didn't know the name of them but he liked the smell. His eyes narrowed and he answered Stephanos bluntly.
"There aren't a lot of flowers in Colchis." He determined, keeping his focus directed forwards.
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Vangelis was not a good conversationalist, but he was an honest one. And an efficient one. Some people admired that and enjoyed the fact that they didn't have to dance around subjects or spend minutes and hours exchanging pleasantries they didn't feel before they could simply ask the question that had been their primary purpose for the conversation in the first place. The liked that, to Vangelis, communication was about effectiveness. You had a question. He answered it. It was as simple as that. And it was his expectation that community should flow exactly the way in the opposite direction that had most people who enjoyed the pleasantries of talking, feeling that he was either blunt or rude. He didn't both to pad out his words or fluff up another person's ego. If he required information from someone, he demanded it. And, luckily, his role and positions as both prince and military general meant that people gave him the information he sought - whether they thought him rude for the manner in which he did so, or not.
Stephanos appeared to fall into the category of people who liked to chatter or waste time with empty words, simply for the same of social convention and polite exchanges. Vangelis had no problem with this. He simply didn't alter his own means of communication to match. Which meant the King of Taengea would just have to simmer with his own issues on the topic.
When the man finally caved and offered him what the leader of the Creed had divulged before Stephanos had dispatched him, his brows lowered in thought.
"No-one considers themselves a villain." He simply stated to Stephanos' assurances that the options before him didn't make sense; that his uncle being someone actively involved in the Creed held little logic. "It's been my experience that those who break social law simply believe their end goal to be more important than the means of achieving it. What does your Uncle get out of the Creed's attack? Is the end result worth the damage paid by Taengea? In his eyes?"
Vangelis turned his attentions forward again with a soft shrug.
"Either way, innocent or guilty, you won't be certain without evidence either way." He told the man, knowing the king to already know this. "Do you have someone within your House whose loyalty you can hold stronger than your Uncle?" If the man was going to investigate the Prince then it had to be via someone within his own Household or with significant rank to be able to poke his nose where it shouldn't be without getting caught. But anyone of that level of access would be close to Prince Irakles and could already be loyal to the great General of Taengea.
It didn't occur to Vangelis to state that Stephanos was crazy, that his assumptions based on very little. Sometimes, in the heat of battle or at the negotiation table for peace talks, one had to go with gut instinct, to try and read other people and understand which way their hearts were leaning. Stephanos had a reputation for being a little overtly active with the ladies of Court and with a wine bottle but he had never developed a reputation for being stupid or paranoid. If the man suspected something about his uncle - a man he had been raised to respect - then something had to be gnawing at him strongly to make him suspect such a thing.
Not to mention that this wasn't Vangelis' problem. The Creed were, most definitely - for when they had grown tired of terrorising Taengea, where would they turn their attentions to next? - but whether the cult group had connections within Stephanos' own House was for him to decide and act upon. It was not for Vangelis to tell him what he should and shouldn't do, only the options that were open for his own choice.
Before Stephanos could answer him, however, Vangelis spotted Nike bringing her steed to a stop and, a few moments later, the carriage drew to a slow also. As Stephanos and Vangelis' own mounts drew closer to the group once more, their conversation on hold until their words were once again private - Vangelis's palm fell to the hilt of his sword at his hip.
It was in that moment that Stephanos asked him his favourite flower.
Vangelis turned to glance towards the king with an expression that suggested the man had totally lost his mind - Or at least it would have if Vangelis didn't keep most of his emotions from his face - before moving his attention back to the road.
"Status, Nike?" He called upfront, wanting to know what the hold-up was, unable to see the small frame of the young woman on the other side of the carriage.
Whilst he remained sharp of any potential danger, Vangelis' mind went to the blue flowers his mother was a fan of placing around the Kotas manor. He didn't know the name of them but he liked the smell. His eyes narrowed and he answered Stephanos bluntly.
"There aren't a lot of flowers in Colchis." He determined, keeping his focus directed forwards.
Vangelis was not a good conversationalist, but he was an honest one. And an efficient one. Some people admired that and enjoyed the fact that they didn't have to dance around subjects or spend minutes and hours exchanging pleasantries they didn't feel before they could simply ask the question that had been their primary purpose for the conversation in the first place. The liked that, to Vangelis, communication was about effectiveness. You had a question. He answered it. It was as simple as that. And it was his expectation that community should flow exactly the way in the opposite direction that had most people who enjoyed the pleasantries of talking, feeling that he was either blunt or rude. He didn't both to pad out his words or fluff up another person's ego. If he required information from someone, he demanded it. And, luckily, his role and positions as both prince and military general meant that people gave him the information he sought - whether they thought him rude for the manner in which he did so, or not.
Stephanos appeared to fall into the category of people who liked to chatter or waste time with empty words, simply for the same of social convention and polite exchanges. Vangelis had no problem with this. He simply didn't alter his own means of communication to match. Which meant the King of Taengea would just have to simmer with his own issues on the topic.
When the man finally caved and offered him what the leader of the Creed had divulged before Stephanos had dispatched him, his brows lowered in thought.
"No-one considers themselves a villain." He simply stated to Stephanos' assurances that the options before him didn't make sense; that his uncle being someone actively involved in the Creed held little logic. "It's been my experience that those who break social law simply believe their end goal to be more important than the means of achieving it. What does your Uncle get out of the Creed's attack? Is the end result worth the damage paid by Taengea? In his eyes?"
Vangelis turned his attentions forward again with a soft shrug.
"Either way, innocent or guilty, you won't be certain without evidence either way." He told the man, knowing the king to already know this. "Do you have someone within your House whose loyalty you can hold stronger than your Uncle?" If the man was going to investigate the Prince then it had to be via someone within his own Household or with significant rank to be able to poke his nose where it shouldn't be without getting caught. But anyone of that level of access would be close to Prince Irakles and could already be loyal to the great General of Taengea.
It didn't occur to Vangelis to state that Stephanos was crazy, that his assumptions based on very little. Sometimes, in the heat of battle or at the negotiation table for peace talks, one had to go with gut instinct, to try and read other people and understand which way their hearts were leaning. Stephanos had a reputation for being a little overtly active with the ladies of Court and with a wine bottle but he had never developed a reputation for being stupid or paranoid. If the man suspected something about his uncle - a man he had been raised to respect - then something had to be gnawing at him strongly to make him suspect such a thing.
Not to mention that this wasn't Vangelis' problem. The Creed were, most definitely - for when they had grown tired of terrorising Taengea, where would they turn their attentions to next? - but whether the cult group had connections within Stephanos' own House was for him to decide and act upon. It was not for Vangelis to tell him what he should and shouldn't do, only the options that were open for his own choice.
Before Stephanos could answer him, however, Vangelis spotted Nike bringing her steed to a stop and, a few moments later, the carriage drew to a slow also. As Stephanos and Vangelis' own mounts drew closer to the group once more, their conversation on hold until their words were once again private - Vangelis's palm fell to the hilt of his sword at his hip.
It was in that moment that Stephanos asked him his favourite flower.
Vangelis turned to glance towards the king with an expression that suggested the man had totally lost his mind - Or at least it would have if Vangelis didn't keep most of his emotions from his face - before moving his attention back to the road.
"Status, Nike?" He called upfront, wanting to know what the hold-up was, unable to see the small frame of the young woman on the other side of the carriage.
Whilst he remained sharp of any potential danger, Vangelis' mind went to the blue flowers his mother was a fan of placing around the Kotas manor. He didn't know the name of them but he liked the smell. His eyes narrowed and he answered Stephanos bluntly.
"There aren't a lot of flowers in Colchis." He determined, keeping his focus directed forwards.
Chrysanthe continued frantically trying to gather her items as the commander’s horse snorted down at her. Chrysanthe couldn’t believe how nearly she had avoided being trampled. It was amazing how fast the horse had come upon her. She hesitantly reached up and took the piece of cloth the soldier offered. She quickly wrapped what was left of her sack up in the cloth, and piled the items that had fallen on the road on top as quickly as possible, trying to get out of the way of the convoy.“Thank you, my...sir.” Chrysanthe quickly corrected herself the soldier had said that he wasn’t a lord.
Chrysanthe was already flustered by the time the soldier addressed her as a lady. The thought was almost laughable. She may have advanced her station in life to the point where she had the funds to travel freely, but she was still a far cry from being a lady. At the mention that he was traveling with the King and the Crown Prince of Colchis, Chrysanthe was almost bowled over in shock. She never expected to be so close to royalty, and now, not only was she close to it, but she had actively been standing in their way. Chrysanthe flushed bright red. To have inconvenienced the King, she almost couldn’t process it.
Chrysanthe stood there gaping for a few moments before her brain seemed to start working properly again. She realized that the soldier had asked her questions she needed to respond to. ”I...I’m not a lady.” she squeaked out first, protesting the title that clearly didn’t apply to her. But that wasn’t the only thing he had said, was it? Her stunned brain struggled for a moment longer to recall the question. ”I’m traveling to Meganea.” She answered, and suddenly it was like a flood gate had opened in her head and she found herself unable to stop explaining. ”I was hoping that I would be able to find a job there. I had heard there were people looking for help after the storm. If not, I suppose I’ll have to move on, but I’ll figure that out when I get there.” Chrysanthe waited for the soldier’s response, desperately hoping that she might be dismissed from his presence soon. She couldn’t wait for this awkward encounter to be over and for her to get on with her life. She clutched her bag to her chest. She’d have to sort through her things and see what was still good and what was ruined after the group had passed.
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Chrysanthe continued frantically trying to gather her items as the commander’s horse snorted down at her. Chrysanthe couldn’t believe how nearly she had avoided being trampled. It was amazing how fast the horse had come upon her. She hesitantly reached up and took the piece of cloth the soldier offered. She quickly wrapped what was left of her sack up in the cloth, and piled the items that had fallen on the road on top as quickly as possible, trying to get out of the way of the convoy.“Thank you, my...sir.” Chrysanthe quickly corrected herself the soldier had said that he wasn’t a lord.
Chrysanthe was already flustered by the time the soldier addressed her as a lady. The thought was almost laughable. She may have advanced her station in life to the point where she had the funds to travel freely, but she was still a far cry from being a lady. At the mention that he was traveling with the King and the Crown Prince of Colchis, Chrysanthe was almost bowled over in shock. She never expected to be so close to royalty, and now, not only was she close to it, but she had actively been standing in their way. Chrysanthe flushed bright red. To have inconvenienced the King, she almost couldn’t process it.
Chrysanthe stood there gaping for a few moments before her brain seemed to start working properly again. She realized that the soldier had asked her questions she needed to respond to. ”I...I’m not a lady.” she squeaked out first, protesting the title that clearly didn’t apply to her. But that wasn’t the only thing he had said, was it? Her stunned brain struggled for a moment longer to recall the question. ”I’m traveling to Meganea.” She answered, and suddenly it was like a flood gate had opened in her head and she found herself unable to stop explaining. ”I was hoping that I would be able to find a job there. I had heard there were people looking for help after the storm. If not, I suppose I’ll have to move on, but I’ll figure that out when I get there.” Chrysanthe waited for the soldier’s response, desperately hoping that she might be dismissed from his presence soon. She couldn’t wait for this awkward encounter to be over and for her to get on with her life. She clutched her bag to her chest. She’d have to sort through her things and see what was still good and what was ruined after the group had passed.
Chrysanthe continued frantically trying to gather her items as the commander’s horse snorted down at her. Chrysanthe couldn’t believe how nearly she had avoided being trampled. It was amazing how fast the horse had come upon her. She hesitantly reached up and took the piece of cloth the soldier offered. She quickly wrapped what was left of her sack up in the cloth, and piled the items that had fallen on the road on top as quickly as possible, trying to get out of the way of the convoy.“Thank you, my...sir.” Chrysanthe quickly corrected herself the soldier had said that he wasn’t a lord.
Chrysanthe was already flustered by the time the soldier addressed her as a lady. The thought was almost laughable. She may have advanced her station in life to the point where she had the funds to travel freely, but she was still a far cry from being a lady. At the mention that he was traveling with the King and the Crown Prince of Colchis, Chrysanthe was almost bowled over in shock. She never expected to be so close to royalty, and now, not only was she close to it, but she had actively been standing in their way. Chrysanthe flushed bright red. To have inconvenienced the King, she almost couldn’t process it.
Chrysanthe stood there gaping for a few moments before her brain seemed to start working properly again. She realized that the soldier had asked her questions she needed to respond to. ”I...I’m not a lady.” she squeaked out first, protesting the title that clearly didn’t apply to her. But that wasn’t the only thing he had said, was it? Her stunned brain struggled for a moment longer to recall the question. ”I’m traveling to Meganea.” She answered, and suddenly it was like a flood gate had opened in her head and she found herself unable to stop explaining. ”I was hoping that I would be able to find a job there. I had heard there were people looking for help after the storm. If not, I suppose I’ll have to move on, but I’ll figure that out when I get there.” Chrysanthe waited for the soldier’s response, desperately hoping that she might be dismissed from his presence soon. She couldn’t wait for this awkward encounter to be over and for her to get on with her life. She clutched her bag to her chest. She’d have to sort through her things and see what was still good and what was ruined after the group had passed.
It did not sit overly well with him to have to listen to Vangelis’s pragmatic and, more to the point, probably accurate portrait of Irakles. It didn’t matter to him if Irakles thought he was doing the entire world a favor by murdering the king and crown prince. They bandied about ideas about what Irakles would be getting from an alliance with the Creed but the list was very short, as far as Stephanos was concerned. He thought his uncle was gunning for the throne. It was the only thing that made sense.
What he couldn’t understand was what the Creed stood to gain if they were the ones working with Irakles. Or visa versa. From what he knew of the cult, they didn’t like nobility in any capacity, but it had been a little while since he’d studied their mantra. Right or wrong, that was his assumption.
When Vangelis asked who he could trust in his court, there wasn’t really anyone but he wasn’t prepared to admit that at present and instead gave some sort of vague, non-committal response. The issue wasn’t pressed either, because of the abrupt halt of the whole party.
Stephanos waited for Nike’s answer to Vangelis’s barked order but then, he wasn’t a patient man. He was wholly unconcerned with danger because if there had been any, the guards would already have their swords drawn and a fight would be occurring at this very moment. This was also not much of an issue since he, himself, was armed and quite able to defend himself against random briggands.
Reining his horse close enough to Vang’s that the back flanks of the horses brushed against each other, upsetting both animals, he was able to see a young woman speaking with the commander. His mount then sidestepped to get away from Vangelis’s, putting him a little bit behind the prince and to the side. He clicked under his tongue to get his offended horse under control and then rode around to the side, coming around to the young woman and the commander.
He was in time to hear her declare herself not a lady, which was evident from her clothes, if nothing else, as well as her lack of horse or carriage, not to mention lack of any traveling companion at all. Then she further admitted she was headed to Maganea. Under normal circumstances, he would have ignored her presence completely and carried on with the journey. They’d met several people along the road today, but had stopped for no one but her.
It was the Fates, clearly, rescuing him from this conversation with Vangelis that was not going anywhere near like he’d envisioned it would. “Meganea?” he inclined his head at her, one hand resting on his knee, the other holding the reins in a casual grip. “As are we.” With a wicked look over his shoulder at Vangelis, he then leaned down and offered his hand to Chrysanthe. This was his solution to boredom if ever one had presented itself. “Here,” he said. “You may ride with me.”
Protocol and rank said that she should walk the entire way but the horses and carriage would outstrip her soon. Besides, she was easy on the eyes and he thought it would be funny to see what Vangelis would say. It didn’t occur to him that she would say no. No one said no to the king, and to Stephanos in particular.
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It did not sit overly well with him to have to listen to Vangelis’s pragmatic and, more to the point, probably accurate portrait of Irakles. It didn’t matter to him if Irakles thought he was doing the entire world a favor by murdering the king and crown prince. They bandied about ideas about what Irakles would be getting from an alliance with the Creed but the list was very short, as far as Stephanos was concerned. He thought his uncle was gunning for the throne. It was the only thing that made sense.
What he couldn’t understand was what the Creed stood to gain if they were the ones working with Irakles. Or visa versa. From what he knew of the cult, they didn’t like nobility in any capacity, but it had been a little while since he’d studied their mantra. Right or wrong, that was his assumption.
When Vangelis asked who he could trust in his court, there wasn’t really anyone but he wasn’t prepared to admit that at present and instead gave some sort of vague, non-committal response. The issue wasn’t pressed either, because of the abrupt halt of the whole party.
Stephanos waited for Nike’s answer to Vangelis’s barked order but then, he wasn’t a patient man. He was wholly unconcerned with danger because if there had been any, the guards would already have their swords drawn and a fight would be occurring at this very moment. This was also not much of an issue since he, himself, was armed and quite able to defend himself against random briggands.
Reining his horse close enough to Vang’s that the back flanks of the horses brushed against each other, upsetting both animals, he was able to see a young woman speaking with the commander. His mount then sidestepped to get away from Vangelis’s, putting him a little bit behind the prince and to the side. He clicked under his tongue to get his offended horse under control and then rode around to the side, coming around to the young woman and the commander.
He was in time to hear her declare herself not a lady, which was evident from her clothes, if nothing else, as well as her lack of horse or carriage, not to mention lack of any traveling companion at all. Then she further admitted she was headed to Maganea. Under normal circumstances, he would have ignored her presence completely and carried on with the journey. They’d met several people along the road today, but had stopped for no one but her.
It was the Fates, clearly, rescuing him from this conversation with Vangelis that was not going anywhere near like he’d envisioned it would. “Meganea?” he inclined his head at her, one hand resting on his knee, the other holding the reins in a casual grip. “As are we.” With a wicked look over his shoulder at Vangelis, he then leaned down and offered his hand to Chrysanthe. This was his solution to boredom if ever one had presented itself. “Here,” he said. “You may ride with me.”
Protocol and rank said that she should walk the entire way but the horses and carriage would outstrip her soon. Besides, she was easy on the eyes and he thought it would be funny to see what Vangelis would say. It didn’t occur to him that she would say no. No one said no to the king, and to Stephanos in particular.
It did not sit overly well with him to have to listen to Vangelis’s pragmatic and, more to the point, probably accurate portrait of Irakles. It didn’t matter to him if Irakles thought he was doing the entire world a favor by murdering the king and crown prince. They bandied about ideas about what Irakles would be getting from an alliance with the Creed but the list was very short, as far as Stephanos was concerned. He thought his uncle was gunning for the throne. It was the only thing that made sense.
What he couldn’t understand was what the Creed stood to gain if they were the ones working with Irakles. Or visa versa. From what he knew of the cult, they didn’t like nobility in any capacity, but it had been a little while since he’d studied their mantra. Right or wrong, that was his assumption.
When Vangelis asked who he could trust in his court, there wasn’t really anyone but he wasn’t prepared to admit that at present and instead gave some sort of vague, non-committal response. The issue wasn’t pressed either, because of the abrupt halt of the whole party.
Stephanos waited for Nike’s answer to Vangelis’s barked order but then, he wasn’t a patient man. He was wholly unconcerned with danger because if there had been any, the guards would already have their swords drawn and a fight would be occurring at this very moment. This was also not much of an issue since he, himself, was armed and quite able to defend himself against random briggands.
Reining his horse close enough to Vang’s that the back flanks of the horses brushed against each other, upsetting both animals, he was able to see a young woman speaking with the commander. His mount then sidestepped to get away from Vangelis’s, putting him a little bit behind the prince and to the side. He clicked under his tongue to get his offended horse under control and then rode around to the side, coming around to the young woman and the commander.
He was in time to hear her declare herself not a lady, which was evident from her clothes, if nothing else, as well as her lack of horse or carriage, not to mention lack of any traveling companion at all. Then she further admitted she was headed to Maganea. Under normal circumstances, he would have ignored her presence completely and carried on with the journey. They’d met several people along the road today, but had stopped for no one but her.
It was the Fates, clearly, rescuing him from this conversation with Vangelis that was not going anywhere near like he’d envisioned it would. “Meganea?” he inclined his head at her, one hand resting on his knee, the other holding the reins in a casual grip. “As are we.” With a wicked look over his shoulder at Vangelis, he then leaned down and offered his hand to Chrysanthe. This was his solution to boredom if ever one had presented itself. “Here,” he said. “You may ride with me.”
Protocol and rank said that she should walk the entire way but the horses and carriage would outstrip her soon. Besides, she was easy on the eyes and he thought it would be funny to see what Vangelis would say. It didn’t occur to him that she would say no. No one said no to the king, and to Stephanos in particular.
Chrysanthe had not expected her trip to Meganea to be at all as eventful as it had been. It was a day’s walk and there was a well-worn road from Vasiliadon. This trip had already contained more surprises than Chrysanthe had expected even by the time she had encountered a full party of other travels, much less a group containing royalty. Chrysanthe had just about managed to regain her composure to start again on her way when a horse had come around from behind the carriage with a man who looked familiar. It was half a moment before the recognition clicked in her head with what the soldier had told her. Standing in front of her, or rather sitting in front of her, was the King of all of Taengea. She would have been stunned enough just by his presence in front of her, but he began talking to her.
Chrysanthe could barely process the words she was hearing, it was as if everything was moving through dense fog on the way to her ears. He greeted her in a friendly manner as if someone of her station would even warrant such a greeting. Chrysanthe couldn’t even begin to understand why this man, this king, was talking to her of all people. When he reached out to extend a hand to her to offer to let her ride with him on his own horse, it was as if her entire body had gone numb. This had to be some sort of dream, it didn’t make any sense for it to be real.
Chrysanthe stood there gaping up at the king, mouth open, not seeming to fully comprehend what had been said. Then she realized that he was expecting a response. As if she was moving through honey, she found herself stepping forward and grabbing his hand as the king commanded. When she felt herself being pulled up onto the back of the King’s horse, it was as if it was happening to someone else. ”Th..thank you, Your Majesty,” Chrysanthe just managed to squeak out. Chrysanthe had rarely had the chance to be upon any horse, much less the King’s horse. Chrysanthe found she didn’t know where to put her hands to hold on, she was finding it hard to believe that she wasn’t going to just topple back off the horse. Not that she supposed she would even feel it if she were to fall and hit the ground, she felt so numb with surprise.
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Chrysanthe had not expected her trip to Meganea to be at all as eventful as it had been. It was a day’s walk and there was a well-worn road from Vasiliadon. This trip had already contained more surprises than Chrysanthe had expected even by the time she had encountered a full party of other travels, much less a group containing royalty. Chrysanthe had just about managed to regain her composure to start again on her way when a horse had come around from behind the carriage with a man who looked familiar. It was half a moment before the recognition clicked in her head with what the soldier had told her. Standing in front of her, or rather sitting in front of her, was the King of all of Taengea. She would have been stunned enough just by his presence in front of her, but he began talking to her.
Chrysanthe could barely process the words she was hearing, it was as if everything was moving through dense fog on the way to her ears. He greeted her in a friendly manner as if someone of her station would even warrant such a greeting. Chrysanthe couldn’t even begin to understand why this man, this king, was talking to her of all people. When he reached out to extend a hand to her to offer to let her ride with him on his own horse, it was as if her entire body had gone numb. This had to be some sort of dream, it didn’t make any sense for it to be real.
Chrysanthe stood there gaping up at the king, mouth open, not seeming to fully comprehend what had been said. Then she realized that he was expecting a response. As if she was moving through honey, she found herself stepping forward and grabbing his hand as the king commanded. When she felt herself being pulled up onto the back of the King’s horse, it was as if it was happening to someone else. ”Th..thank you, Your Majesty,” Chrysanthe just managed to squeak out. Chrysanthe had rarely had the chance to be upon any horse, much less the King’s horse. Chrysanthe found she didn’t know where to put her hands to hold on, she was finding it hard to believe that she wasn’t going to just topple back off the horse. Not that she supposed she would even feel it if she were to fall and hit the ground, she felt so numb with surprise.
Chrysanthe had not expected her trip to Meganea to be at all as eventful as it had been. It was a day’s walk and there was a well-worn road from Vasiliadon. This trip had already contained more surprises than Chrysanthe had expected even by the time she had encountered a full party of other travels, much less a group containing royalty. Chrysanthe had just about managed to regain her composure to start again on her way when a horse had come around from behind the carriage with a man who looked familiar. It was half a moment before the recognition clicked in her head with what the soldier had told her. Standing in front of her, or rather sitting in front of her, was the King of all of Taengea. She would have been stunned enough just by his presence in front of her, but he began talking to her.
Chrysanthe could barely process the words she was hearing, it was as if everything was moving through dense fog on the way to her ears. He greeted her in a friendly manner as if someone of her station would even warrant such a greeting. Chrysanthe couldn’t even begin to understand why this man, this king, was talking to her of all people. When he reached out to extend a hand to her to offer to let her ride with him on his own horse, it was as if her entire body had gone numb. This had to be some sort of dream, it didn’t make any sense for it to be real.
Chrysanthe stood there gaping up at the king, mouth open, not seeming to fully comprehend what had been said. Then she realized that he was expecting a response. As if she was moving through honey, she found herself stepping forward and grabbing his hand as the king commanded. When she felt herself being pulled up onto the back of the King’s horse, it was as if it was happening to someone else. ”Th..thank you, Your Majesty,” Chrysanthe just managed to squeak out. Chrysanthe had rarely had the chance to be upon any horse, much less the King’s horse. Chrysanthe found she didn’t know where to put her hands to hold on, she was finding it hard to believe that she wasn’t going to just topple back off the horse. Not that she supposed she would even feel it if she were to fall and hit the ground, she felt so numb with surprise.
The way he’d lifted her onto the horse was to was to sit her in front of him. He preferred this to her having to hug him for hours as they rode. From here, his arms rested at her sides as he held the reins and she was free to grip the horse’s mane for support. Looking over her head, he then guided the horse to ride next to Vangelis again so that they could continue their nothing conversation, with the addition of this pretty little woman right here.
“Think nothing of it,” he said absently to her as he concentrated on making his suddenly unwilling horse go to the back of the line again. Being around the carriage and able to see what was coming up had apparently made his horse much more interested in exploring, rather than walking dully behind the carriage, having to snort against dust and seeing nothing in particular for hours.
“Hey,” Stephanos kicked one leg hard against the gelding’s side and the horse sidestepped, finally falling into line where he should be. “Walk on,” he ordered up to the front, not bothering to wait for Vangelis to do it. Once they whole procession was moving, he glanced over at Vangelis and nudged the woman in the half circle of his arms. They weren’t constantly touching but every so often, with the dips or ruts in the road, it was unavoidable. What he considered entertainment was to force this obviously fightened woman to converse with both him and Vangelis.
“I was just asking Prince Vangelis here what his favorite flowers were, and do you know what he told me? He doesn’t have one. One thing you can’t believe is everything Prince Vangelis, specifically, tells you.” He shot an easy grin at the other man, thoroughly enjoying what he felt would make the other at least crack some sort of facial expression. Otherwise the man was unbelievably stoic. It was just the kind of challenge that begged for Stephanos to make him have a reaction of one kind or another. He could not bear for someone to be in one attitude all of the time. The display of emotions wasn’t a weakness, in his eyes, but it seemed to be that for his...friend...for lack of a better term.
“What’s your favorite flower?” he asked the woman. And then, “And your name.” He couldn’t just keep thinking of her as ‘the woman’.
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The way he’d lifted her onto the horse was to was to sit her in front of him. He preferred this to her having to hug him for hours as they rode. From here, his arms rested at her sides as he held the reins and she was free to grip the horse’s mane for support. Looking over her head, he then guided the horse to ride next to Vangelis again so that they could continue their nothing conversation, with the addition of this pretty little woman right here.
“Think nothing of it,” he said absently to her as he concentrated on making his suddenly unwilling horse go to the back of the line again. Being around the carriage and able to see what was coming up had apparently made his horse much more interested in exploring, rather than walking dully behind the carriage, having to snort against dust and seeing nothing in particular for hours.
“Hey,” Stephanos kicked one leg hard against the gelding’s side and the horse sidestepped, finally falling into line where he should be. “Walk on,” he ordered up to the front, not bothering to wait for Vangelis to do it. Once they whole procession was moving, he glanced over at Vangelis and nudged the woman in the half circle of his arms. They weren’t constantly touching but every so often, with the dips or ruts in the road, it was unavoidable. What he considered entertainment was to force this obviously fightened woman to converse with both him and Vangelis.
“I was just asking Prince Vangelis here what his favorite flowers were, and do you know what he told me? He doesn’t have one. One thing you can’t believe is everything Prince Vangelis, specifically, tells you.” He shot an easy grin at the other man, thoroughly enjoying what he felt would make the other at least crack some sort of facial expression. Otherwise the man was unbelievably stoic. It was just the kind of challenge that begged for Stephanos to make him have a reaction of one kind or another. He could not bear for someone to be in one attitude all of the time. The display of emotions wasn’t a weakness, in his eyes, but it seemed to be that for his...friend...for lack of a better term.
“What’s your favorite flower?” he asked the woman. And then, “And your name.” He couldn’t just keep thinking of her as ‘the woman’.
The way he’d lifted her onto the horse was to was to sit her in front of him. He preferred this to her having to hug him for hours as they rode. From here, his arms rested at her sides as he held the reins and she was free to grip the horse’s mane for support. Looking over her head, he then guided the horse to ride next to Vangelis again so that they could continue their nothing conversation, with the addition of this pretty little woman right here.
“Think nothing of it,” he said absently to her as he concentrated on making his suddenly unwilling horse go to the back of the line again. Being around the carriage and able to see what was coming up had apparently made his horse much more interested in exploring, rather than walking dully behind the carriage, having to snort against dust and seeing nothing in particular for hours.
“Hey,” Stephanos kicked one leg hard against the gelding’s side and the horse sidestepped, finally falling into line where he should be. “Walk on,” he ordered up to the front, not bothering to wait for Vangelis to do it. Once they whole procession was moving, he glanced over at Vangelis and nudged the woman in the half circle of his arms. They weren’t constantly touching but every so often, with the dips or ruts in the road, it was unavoidable. What he considered entertainment was to force this obviously fightened woman to converse with both him and Vangelis.
“I was just asking Prince Vangelis here what his favorite flowers were, and do you know what he told me? He doesn’t have one. One thing you can’t believe is everything Prince Vangelis, specifically, tells you.” He shot an easy grin at the other man, thoroughly enjoying what he felt would make the other at least crack some sort of facial expression. Otherwise the man was unbelievably stoic. It was just the kind of challenge that begged for Stephanos to make him have a reaction of one kind or another. He could not bear for someone to be in one attitude all of the time. The display of emotions wasn’t a weakness, in his eyes, but it seemed to be that for his...friend...for lack of a better term.
“What’s your favorite flower?” he asked the woman. And then, “And your name.” He couldn’t just keep thinking of her as ‘the woman’.
Chrysanthe gripped the horse’s mane tightly, trying to keep her balance as the beast swayed from side to side. As someone not used to riding on horses, she almost wished that she could be back on the nice, steady ground that didn’t move around underneath her. Not that she would ever admit that out loud. She wouldn’t want to appear ungrateful. At least the king had an arm to either side that would catch her if she fell, though she didn’t think she’d be able to live down the embarrassment if she had to be caught falling off the horse.
At first, she wasn’t sure where they were supposed to be going, then the king finally got his horse turned around leading them back over towards another man, dressed and horsed as richly as the king. Chrysanthe’s worst fears were confirmed as the king mentioned that it was Prince Vangelis. Chrysanthe didn’t know what she had done to end up in the middle of this conversation. Chrysanthe nodded faintly as he informed her not to trust this foreign prince. She couldn’t very well disagree with her king, but at the same time, how could she begin to insinuate someone so far above her wasn’t to be trusted? Hopefully, she’d be able to get out of this conversation without insulting either of them.
Then the question was turned to her. What was her favorite flower? She froze. It was a question she wasn’t even sure of herself, and yet, somehow it seemed to hold some kind of significance between these two powerful men. If this was some kind of game she didn’t know the rules. Chrysanthe sighed a bit, her mind rushing through the possibilities. If she was going to answer she might as well give a good answer. And if she offended them, well at least it would be over quickly. “I...I like crocuses.” she started timidly. ”They’re very pretty, and they make a very nice yellow dye. Your Majesty.” Chrysanthe’s answer grew bolder as she spoke, though she still kept her eyes fixed on the horse’s mane in front of her, glancing at the prince’s expression out of the corner of her eye for any sign that she might have caused offense. Her name, at least that was an easier question. “I’m Chrysanthe, Your Majesty, of Euttica.”
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Chrysanthe gripped the horse’s mane tightly, trying to keep her balance as the beast swayed from side to side. As someone not used to riding on horses, she almost wished that she could be back on the nice, steady ground that didn’t move around underneath her. Not that she would ever admit that out loud. She wouldn’t want to appear ungrateful. At least the king had an arm to either side that would catch her if she fell, though she didn’t think she’d be able to live down the embarrassment if she had to be caught falling off the horse.
At first, she wasn’t sure where they were supposed to be going, then the king finally got his horse turned around leading them back over towards another man, dressed and horsed as richly as the king. Chrysanthe’s worst fears were confirmed as the king mentioned that it was Prince Vangelis. Chrysanthe didn’t know what she had done to end up in the middle of this conversation. Chrysanthe nodded faintly as he informed her not to trust this foreign prince. She couldn’t very well disagree with her king, but at the same time, how could she begin to insinuate someone so far above her wasn’t to be trusted? Hopefully, she’d be able to get out of this conversation without insulting either of them.
Then the question was turned to her. What was her favorite flower? She froze. It was a question she wasn’t even sure of herself, and yet, somehow it seemed to hold some kind of significance between these two powerful men. If this was some kind of game she didn’t know the rules. Chrysanthe sighed a bit, her mind rushing through the possibilities. If she was going to answer she might as well give a good answer. And if she offended them, well at least it would be over quickly. “I...I like crocuses.” she started timidly. ”They’re very pretty, and they make a very nice yellow dye. Your Majesty.” Chrysanthe’s answer grew bolder as she spoke, though she still kept her eyes fixed on the horse’s mane in front of her, glancing at the prince’s expression out of the corner of her eye for any sign that she might have caused offense. Her name, at least that was an easier question. “I’m Chrysanthe, Your Majesty, of Euttica.”
Chrysanthe gripped the horse’s mane tightly, trying to keep her balance as the beast swayed from side to side. As someone not used to riding on horses, she almost wished that she could be back on the nice, steady ground that didn’t move around underneath her. Not that she would ever admit that out loud. She wouldn’t want to appear ungrateful. At least the king had an arm to either side that would catch her if she fell, though she didn’t think she’d be able to live down the embarrassment if she had to be caught falling off the horse.
At first, she wasn’t sure where they were supposed to be going, then the king finally got his horse turned around leading them back over towards another man, dressed and horsed as richly as the king. Chrysanthe’s worst fears were confirmed as the king mentioned that it was Prince Vangelis. Chrysanthe didn’t know what she had done to end up in the middle of this conversation. Chrysanthe nodded faintly as he informed her not to trust this foreign prince. She couldn’t very well disagree with her king, but at the same time, how could she begin to insinuate someone so far above her wasn’t to be trusted? Hopefully, she’d be able to get out of this conversation without insulting either of them.
Then the question was turned to her. What was her favorite flower? She froze. It was a question she wasn’t even sure of herself, and yet, somehow it seemed to hold some kind of significance between these two powerful men. If this was some kind of game she didn’t know the rules. Chrysanthe sighed a bit, her mind rushing through the possibilities. If she was going to answer she might as well give a good answer. And if she offended them, well at least it would be over quickly. “I...I like crocuses.” she started timidly. ”They’re very pretty, and they make a very nice yellow dye. Your Majesty.” Chrysanthe’s answer grew bolder as she spoke, though she still kept her eyes fixed on the horse’s mane in front of her, glancing at the prince’s expression out of the corner of her eye for any sign that she might have caused offense. Her name, at least that was an easier question. “I’m Chrysanthe, Your Majesty, of Euttica.”
Vangelis offered little in the way of a response to Stephanos’ blatant desire to see a rise in his temper. What the man was on about bringing up flowers and such, he couldn’t understand though neither wanted to find out, for he sensed by the tone of Stephanos’ voice and glint in his eye that the man was purely playing him for comedic effect. And he wasn’t able to walk straight into it. Instead, therefore, he offered a slight huff at one point, a few non-committal noises and more or less ignored the young woman that Stephanos had scooped up to allow to ride with him for whatever nefarious plans he so aimed for.
The crown prince of Colchis felt the strong desire to roll his eyes but he restrained himself. Stephanos acted no more a king now than he did when he had been second prince and if he wasn’t careful it was going to get him into trouble. For, while Vangelis had seen the smart mind behind the courting man’s good looks, and the military tactician during their fight against the Creed, not to mention his serious love for his people – all signs that King Stephanos would make a good ruler, he would need to adapt his behaviour if others were to notice such skills.
Whilst Vangelis might not have personally liked the lord Prince Irakles, he could easily see how the man was winning friends and influencing people inside the royal palace. He was a man of stoic demeanour, strong disposition, hard line ethics and a military career that Vangelis was only now starting to approach the length of – and he had started at fourteen years of age. It didn’t matter that Irakles had a live-in mistress, illegitimate children or clearly hadn’t been close, bosom brothers with the late King. His personal presence, charisma and simple appearance of durability turned the scales back in his favour, both by inspiring trust and reliability in his people and fear of the consequences if others were no respectful of the positions and titles he exuded.
It was a thick shell that created the appearance of a legend rather than a man. And it was something both of their father’s had held. The two of them would have to attempt to maintain just such images if they ever hoped to rule with the strength, power and unchallenged loyalty of their forebears.
Such thoughts occupied Vangelis outside of his sweeping glances and careful observation of the surrounding lands, as they travelled. It was mid afternoon by the time the small group reached the province of Meganea, travelling through the main settlement of the area and ensuring that the young lady Stephanos had picked up along the way was carefully deposited in the village where she might find lodgings or a place of residence and work.
Vangelis offered a nod towards a local tavern that would house travellers in their upper rooms for a night at a time and reached into the leather pouch at his hip. Despite having not talked to her for the entire journey, Vangelis was no heartless aristocrat and, without much thought or glance, he nodded her towards the establishment and flicked a silver coin at her; enough to secure her a few nights in such a place or a few weeks in a poorer lodging, whichever was her preference.
By the time evening had started to fall, the strangely small group that consisted of both the future king of Colchis and the current ruler of Taengea, arrived at the gates and main pathways of the Dimitrou estate, a little outside of town. Their presence was clearly expected, for the residents of the manor had come out to greet their arriving guests, as Vangelis witnessed the Lord Gavriil, his daughter Dorothea, his son Iason and the Queen of Athenia step out into the sunshine to play host to their royal visitors. The first two were the be expected, the second were not. And whilst Vangelis had heard that there was turmoil in the Athenian capitol and that the monarch was missing (or in fact dead) he had not been expecting to see her standing before them, with her hands demurely folded in front of her and her back ramrod straight with all the grace and poise of a woman of her position.
At least now he knew where said ruler was hiding, he thought, his brow dropping low as he considered what kind of logic and courage would send a ruler fleeing from her people and lands.
Kicking his horse forwards a little faster, passing the carriage and bringing himself level with Nike over the course of the main drive, Vangelis was, upon reaching the open courtyard in front of the manor, the first to dismount from his ride and then move to the carriage in order to open its door and escort out his cousin and sister.
As they were guests of this kingdom and of lower rank than the man who rode at their rear, Vangelis fell back to wait in appropriate turn for introductions as Lord Gavriil – as was right and proper – stepped forward to greet Stephanos first…
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Vangelis offered little in the way of a response to Stephanos’ blatant desire to see a rise in his temper. What the man was on about bringing up flowers and such, he couldn’t understand though neither wanted to find out, for he sensed by the tone of Stephanos’ voice and glint in his eye that the man was purely playing him for comedic effect. And he wasn’t able to walk straight into it. Instead, therefore, he offered a slight huff at one point, a few non-committal noises and more or less ignored the young woman that Stephanos had scooped up to allow to ride with him for whatever nefarious plans he so aimed for.
The crown prince of Colchis felt the strong desire to roll his eyes but he restrained himself. Stephanos acted no more a king now than he did when he had been second prince and if he wasn’t careful it was going to get him into trouble. For, while Vangelis had seen the smart mind behind the courting man’s good looks, and the military tactician during their fight against the Creed, not to mention his serious love for his people – all signs that King Stephanos would make a good ruler, he would need to adapt his behaviour if others were to notice such skills.
Whilst Vangelis might not have personally liked the lord Prince Irakles, he could easily see how the man was winning friends and influencing people inside the royal palace. He was a man of stoic demeanour, strong disposition, hard line ethics and a military career that Vangelis was only now starting to approach the length of – and he had started at fourteen years of age. It didn’t matter that Irakles had a live-in mistress, illegitimate children or clearly hadn’t been close, bosom brothers with the late King. His personal presence, charisma and simple appearance of durability turned the scales back in his favour, both by inspiring trust and reliability in his people and fear of the consequences if others were no respectful of the positions and titles he exuded.
It was a thick shell that created the appearance of a legend rather than a man. And it was something both of their father’s had held. The two of them would have to attempt to maintain just such images if they ever hoped to rule with the strength, power and unchallenged loyalty of their forebears.
Such thoughts occupied Vangelis outside of his sweeping glances and careful observation of the surrounding lands, as they travelled. It was mid afternoon by the time the small group reached the province of Meganea, travelling through the main settlement of the area and ensuring that the young lady Stephanos had picked up along the way was carefully deposited in the village where she might find lodgings or a place of residence and work.
Vangelis offered a nod towards a local tavern that would house travellers in their upper rooms for a night at a time and reached into the leather pouch at his hip. Despite having not talked to her for the entire journey, Vangelis was no heartless aristocrat and, without much thought or glance, he nodded her towards the establishment and flicked a silver coin at her; enough to secure her a few nights in such a place or a few weeks in a poorer lodging, whichever was her preference.
By the time evening had started to fall, the strangely small group that consisted of both the future king of Colchis and the current ruler of Taengea, arrived at the gates and main pathways of the Dimitrou estate, a little outside of town. Their presence was clearly expected, for the residents of the manor had come out to greet their arriving guests, as Vangelis witnessed the Lord Gavriil, his daughter Dorothea, his son Iason and the Queen of Athenia step out into the sunshine to play host to their royal visitors. The first two were the be expected, the second were not. And whilst Vangelis had heard that there was turmoil in the Athenian capitol and that the monarch was missing (or in fact dead) he had not been expecting to see her standing before them, with her hands demurely folded in front of her and her back ramrod straight with all the grace and poise of a woman of her position.
At least now he knew where said ruler was hiding, he thought, his brow dropping low as he considered what kind of logic and courage would send a ruler fleeing from her people and lands.
Kicking his horse forwards a little faster, passing the carriage and bringing himself level with Nike over the course of the main drive, Vangelis was, upon reaching the open courtyard in front of the manor, the first to dismount from his ride and then move to the carriage in order to open its door and escort out his cousin and sister.
As they were guests of this kingdom and of lower rank than the man who rode at their rear, Vangelis fell back to wait in appropriate turn for introductions as Lord Gavriil – as was right and proper – stepped forward to greet Stephanos first…
Vangelis offered little in the way of a response to Stephanos’ blatant desire to see a rise in his temper. What the man was on about bringing up flowers and such, he couldn’t understand though neither wanted to find out, for he sensed by the tone of Stephanos’ voice and glint in his eye that the man was purely playing him for comedic effect. And he wasn’t able to walk straight into it. Instead, therefore, he offered a slight huff at one point, a few non-committal noises and more or less ignored the young woman that Stephanos had scooped up to allow to ride with him for whatever nefarious plans he so aimed for.
The crown prince of Colchis felt the strong desire to roll his eyes but he restrained himself. Stephanos acted no more a king now than he did when he had been second prince and if he wasn’t careful it was going to get him into trouble. For, while Vangelis had seen the smart mind behind the courting man’s good looks, and the military tactician during their fight against the Creed, not to mention his serious love for his people – all signs that King Stephanos would make a good ruler, he would need to adapt his behaviour if others were to notice such skills.
Whilst Vangelis might not have personally liked the lord Prince Irakles, he could easily see how the man was winning friends and influencing people inside the royal palace. He was a man of stoic demeanour, strong disposition, hard line ethics and a military career that Vangelis was only now starting to approach the length of – and he had started at fourteen years of age. It didn’t matter that Irakles had a live-in mistress, illegitimate children or clearly hadn’t been close, bosom brothers with the late King. His personal presence, charisma and simple appearance of durability turned the scales back in his favour, both by inspiring trust and reliability in his people and fear of the consequences if others were no respectful of the positions and titles he exuded.
It was a thick shell that created the appearance of a legend rather than a man. And it was something both of their father’s had held. The two of them would have to attempt to maintain just such images if they ever hoped to rule with the strength, power and unchallenged loyalty of their forebears.
Such thoughts occupied Vangelis outside of his sweeping glances and careful observation of the surrounding lands, as they travelled. It was mid afternoon by the time the small group reached the province of Meganea, travelling through the main settlement of the area and ensuring that the young lady Stephanos had picked up along the way was carefully deposited in the village where she might find lodgings or a place of residence and work.
Vangelis offered a nod towards a local tavern that would house travellers in their upper rooms for a night at a time and reached into the leather pouch at his hip. Despite having not talked to her for the entire journey, Vangelis was no heartless aristocrat and, without much thought or glance, he nodded her towards the establishment and flicked a silver coin at her; enough to secure her a few nights in such a place or a few weeks in a poorer lodging, whichever was her preference.
By the time evening had started to fall, the strangely small group that consisted of both the future king of Colchis and the current ruler of Taengea, arrived at the gates and main pathways of the Dimitrou estate, a little outside of town. Their presence was clearly expected, for the residents of the manor had come out to greet their arriving guests, as Vangelis witnessed the Lord Gavriil, his daughter Dorothea, his son Iason and the Queen of Athenia step out into the sunshine to play host to their royal visitors. The first two were the be expected, the second were not. And whilst Vangelis had heard that there was turmoil in the Athenian capitol and that the monarch was missing (or in fact dead) he had not been expecting to see her standing before them, with her hands demurely folded in front of her and her back ramrod straight with all the grace and poise of a woman of her position.
At least now he knew where said ruler was hiding, he thought, his brow dropping low as he considered what kind of logic and courage would send a ruler fleeing from her people and lands.
Kicking his horse forwards a little faster, passing the carriage and bringing himself level with Nike over the course of the main drive, Vangelis was, upon reaching the open courtyard in front of the manor, the first to dismount from his ride and then move to the carriage in order to open its door and escort out his cousin and sister.
As they were guests of this kingdom and of lower rank than the man who rode at their rear, Vangelis fell back to wait in appropriate turn for introductions as Lord Gavriil – as was right and proper – stepped forward to greet Stephanos first…