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She had heard of him, of course. Everyone had heard of him -- at least, everyone who had not spent their entire lives living under a rock. He was a living legend: a man of steel and stone. Though she had never laid eyes upon him, she had seen his countenance depicted in several portraits. His physical appearance matched very well to the descriptions she had heard of his character. At a dinner party, she had heard tell from one man that his features were as sharp as he was. Indeed, one artist who fancied themselves a dab hand at political satire had even had the audacity to depict Lord Panos slicing through a diamond with his chin and remaining entirely unharmed. After seeing this, she had briefly wondered how the man himself would react were he ever to come across it.
She had never thought to meet him, despite the fact that he was technically her distant cousin. Almost all of the noble houses were related in some way, after all -- generations of intermarriage had seen to that. However, fate seemed to have other ideas, or rather her father did.
It was not typical for him to entrust matters of business to her. He had always made quite plain to Ophelia that her place was at Court, not in the vineyard. But a rather strange situation had recently cropped up, one that a man such as her father had not the skills to deal with. Whereas he was a natural at negotiations, he knew nothing of gossip, scandal and the machinations of those who would try to bring down a business with their words. He knew that it was dangerous, but not how to combat it.
The maids had been whispering for weeks now, insisting among each other that the Marikas were thieves, somehow able to steal Condos secrets and spirit them back to their province of Thessaly. Indeed, Thessaly was thriving, Ophelia could not deny it. NOr could her father. But the Condos Lord was as foreign to the world of rumours as Ophelia was to that of the Senate. Should he attempt to discover the truth of this, he knew he would falter. His daughter, however, was charming, beautiful and silver-tongued, skilled in the art of conversation, more well placed than any other Condos to extract the truth from the fierce Lord.
She had made up her mind instantaneously to treat him as an innocent unless, or until, he proved himself guilty. She would be amicable, just as one noble should be to another. He would find no reason to complain of her conduct until she could find fault with his. She had heard that he was notorious for looking down upon others, but her father had assured her he was less likely to do so with hers, for theirs was an old and well-established house. It seemed to be new money at which he turned up his nose.
"He may not approve of your charitable endeavours," Thisbe warned her as she and her three handmaidens rode in an ebony carriage. Aoide, who had been gazing out of the window at the Colchan scenery, turned to hear what her mistress would say. "Perhaps he will not, but I shall defend my endeavours while remaining polite," Ophelia assured the elder, a borrowed servant from her mother's coterie. "I do hope he likes the gifts we have brought him." "My Lady, I have heard that Lord Panos is not partial to very much," Thisbe warned cautiously. "Well, let us at least hope he receives me graciously."
She had certainly put forth her best effort, dressing in a garment of scarlet and gold. The sleeves were short and three-tiered. A thin braid of gold laced with rubies hung at her waist, nipping in the fabric and serving to accentuate her every feminine curve. The skirt was split into two -- an underskirt of shimmering gold silk and an open overskirt of Condos red. Gilden sandals slid between her toes. Half of her hair was pinned into a braid, the rest left to hang in loose waves down her back. At her brow sat a coronel of ruby and gold. Ruby teardrops hung from a golden chain around her neck, glistened in her ears and sparkled on her wrists. The faintest scent of rose wafted from beneath the jewels where perfume had been tastefully applied.
As the carriage drew to a halt, she made ready to descend. Her driver came forth immediately to open the door, letting in a pleasant breeze. As a silver staircase was set before them, her handmaidens descended in order of rank. She watched them, smoothing down her skirts before taking the large palm of the aging man and permitting him the honour of assisting in her emergence.
No sooner had her feet touched solid ground than a servant in Thanassi liverie approached her, bowing low before meeting her gaze. "Lady Ophelia of Condos, what is it we can do for you today?" "Please, Sir, if I may, I should like to speak with Lord Panos of Marikas," her voice was as soft as a cloud, earning a smile from the servant, whom she guessed to be of quite high rank by the finer quality of his tunic. "I do not see why that should be a problem. At the very least, a woman of your standing should be able to beg an audience yourself. It would be an insult for me to do it for you," the grey-haired man beamed benevolently down at her. "Come inside and I shall take you to him. I can arrange for your coterie to be taken care of while you visit with Lord Panos." "That would be most agreeable, thank you," Ophelia turned to her three handmaidens and two guards, straightening her posture. "You are to go with this gentleman while I visit with Lord Panos," she instructed. She did not look at Evanthe as she gave this command, as she always felt strange commanding Evanthe. Instead, she fixed her eyes upon Aoide, the lowest ranked of them all. "Aoide, hand me the basket, please."
Aoide obliged immediately, reaching into the carriage and producing a large wicker basket. Within lay her offering to Panos, neatly packaged. Everything from succulent fruit to choice cuts of meat awaited him. She offered no wine, as she thought that might be an insult, but she did offer several of her own creations -- some baked, some sewn, some painted. She sincerely hoped he would like the blanket woven with the Marikas and Leventi crests, the painting of Poseidon, the exquisite vase that bore his name and title in Koptic. They were made by her own hand, for no other reason than because she had wished to please a distant cousin lest the rumours prove false. She sincerely hoped they were, for she was hoping to make a friend -- not a rival -- on this day.
"If the rest of you would kindly wait here, I will return to escort you to our servants' area, where you may eat and talk with the Thanassi servants while your Lady does so with our guest," the man her small group in a benevolent manner. His voice held a gravellery undertone that she was now growing accustomed to, for it seemed to run through the citizens of Colchis much like the blood through their veins, but there was nothing intimidating about it. Voices varied from husky lilts to harsh sounding grunts, but the smiles that had accompanied the spoken words had made clear to Ophelia all were friendly here -- at least, all she had encountered so far.
"We shall remain," Theron, the head of her personal guard, assured the man, who then turned his attention to Ophelia. "If you will then follow me, My Lady."
As she stepped into the Archontiko, it struck her that this was not a home designed with aesthetic in mind. It was not displeasing to the eye, but nor was it as beautiful as it could be. Still, she minded not, for it was none of her business. She supposed the Thanassi's other home must be much grander, for that was where they were rumoured to spend the majority of their time. This, she guessed, was a house they reserved for retreat, for themselves only, and so she was honoured to have been invited inside. She paid little attention to the decor for that point on, instead concentrating on her breathing, her posture, and what she would say to Lord Panos when they met. After being led up a seemingly endless spiral staircase and down a labyrinthine corridor, the servant came to a halt outside a set of double doors.
"These are the chambers that have been allocated to Lord Panos, he is within," he explained, tapping lightly on the door. "Lord Panos? The Lady Ophelia of Condos is without and desires audience."
"May I come in, Lord Panos?" the lady called quietly behind the closed doors, though not so quietly that the great man within would not be able to hear her. "I have brought you several gifts, and have long desired to meet you. May I please come and make the acquaintance of my cousin?"
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The Great Lord Panos.
She had heard of him, of course. Everyone had heard of him -- at least, everyone who had not spent their entire lives living under a rock. He was a living legend: a man of steel and stone. Though she had never laid eyes upon him, she had seen his countenance depicted in several portraits. His physical appearance matched very well to the descriptions she had heard of his character. At a dinner party, she had heard tell from one man that his features were as sharp as he was. Indeed, one artist who fancied themselves a dab hand at political satire had even had the audacity to depict Lord Panos slicing through a diamond with his chin and remaining entirely unharmed. After seeing this, she had briefly wondered how the man himself would react were he ever to come across it.
She had never thought to meet him, despite the fact that he was technically her distant cousin. Almost all of the noble houses were related in some way, after all -- generations of intermarriage had seen to that. However, fate seemed to have other ideas, or rather her father did.
It was not typical for him to entrust matters of business to her. He had always made quite plain to Ophelia that her place was at Court, not in the vineyard. But a rather strange situation had recently cropped up, one that a man such as her father had not the skills to deal with. Whereas he was a natural at negotiations, he knew nothing of gossip, scandal and the machinations of those who would try to bring down a business with their words. He knew that it was dangerous, but not how to combat it.
The maids had been whispering for weeks now, insisting among each other that the Marikas were thieves, somehow able to steal Condos secrets and spirit them back to their province of Thessaly. Indeed, Thessaly was thriving, Ophelia could not deny it. NOr could her father. But the Condos Lord was as foreign to the world of rumours as Ophelia was to that of the Senate. Should he attempt to discover the truth of this, he knew he would falter. His daughter, however, was charming, beautiful and silver-tongued, skilled in the art of conversation, more well placed than any other Condos to extract the truth from the fierce Lord.
She had made up her mind instantaneously to treat him as an innocent unless, or until, he proved himself guilty. She would be amicable, just as one noble should be to another. He would find no reason to complain of her conduct until she could find fault with his. She had heard that he was notorious for looking down upon others, but her father had assured her he was less likely to do so with hers, for theirs was an old and well-established house. It seemed to be new money at which he turned up his nose.
"He may not approve of your charitable endeavours," Thisbe warned her as she and her three handmaidens rode in an ebony carriage. Aoide, who had been gazing out of the window at the Colchan scenery, turned to hear what her mistress would say. "Perhaps he will not, but I shall defend my endeavours while remaining polite," Ophelia assured the elder, a borrowed servant from her mother's coterie. "I do hope he likes the gifts we have brought him." "My Lady, I have heard that Lord Panos is not partial to very much," Thisbe warned cautiously. "Well, let us at least hope he receives me graciously."
She had certainly put forth her best effort, dressing in a garment of scarlet and gold. The sleeves were short and three-tiered. A thin braid of gold laced with rubies hung at her waist, nipping in the fabric and serving to accentuate her every feminine curve. The skirt was split into two -- an underskirt of shimmering gold silk and an open overskirt of Condos red. Gilden sandals slid between her toes. Half of her hair was pinned into a braid, the rest left to hang in loose waves down her back. At her brow sat a coronel of ruby and gold. Ruby teardrops hung from a golden chain around her neck, glistened in her ears and sparkled on her wrists. The faintest scent of rose wafted from beneath the jewels where perfume had been tastefully applied.
As the carriage drew to a halt, she made ready to descend. Her driver came forth immediately to open the door, letting in a pleasant breeze. As a silver staircase was set before them, her handmaidens descended in order of rank. She watched them, smoothing down her skirts before taking the large palm of the aging man and permitting him the honour of assisting in her emergence.
No sooner had her feet touched solid ground than a servant in Thanassi liverie approached her, bowing low before meeting her gaze. "Lady Ophelia of Condos, what is it we can do for you today?" "Please, Sir, if I may, I should like to speak with Lord Panos of Marikas," her voice was as soft as a cloud, earning a smile from the servant, whom she guessed to be of quite high rank by the finer quality of his tunic. "I do not see why that should be a problem. At the very least, a woman of your standing should be able to beg an audience yourself. It would be an insult for me to do it for you," the grey-haired man beamed benevolently down at her. "Come inside and I shall take you to him. I can arrange for your coterie to be taken care of while you visit with Lord Panos." "That would be most agreeable, thank you," Ophelia turned to her three handmaidens and two guards, straightening her posture. "You are to go with this gentleman while I visit with Lord Panos," she instructed. She did not look at Evanthe as she gave this command, as she always felt strange commanding Evanthe. Instead, she fixed her eyes upon Aoide, the lowest ranked of them all. "Aoide, hand me the basket, please."
Aoide obliged immediately, reaching into the carriage and producing a large wicker basket. Within lay her offering to Panos, neatly packaged. Everything from succulent fruit to choice cuts of meat awaited him. She offered no wine, as she thought that might be an insult, but she did offer several of her own creations -- some baked, some sewn, some painted. She sincerely hoped he would like the blanket woven with the Marikas and Leventi crests, the painting of Poseidon, the exquisite vase that bore his name and title in Koptic. They were made by her own hand, for no other reason than because she had wished to please a distant cousin lest the rumours prove false. She sincerely hoped they were, for she was hoping to make a friend -- not a rival -- on this day.
"If the rest of you would kindly wait here, I will return to escort you to our servants' area, where you may eat and talk with the Thanassi servants while your Lady does so with our guest," the man her small group in a benevolent manner. His voice held a gravellery undertone that she was now growing accustomed to, for it seemed to run through the citizens of Colchis much like the blood through their veins, but there was nothing intimidating about it. Voices varied from husky lilts to harsh sounding grunts, but the smiles that had accompanied the spoken words had made clear to Ophelia all were friendly here -- at least, all she had encountered so far.
"We shall remain," Theron, the head of her personal guard, assured the man, who then turned his attention to Ophelia. "If you will then follow me, My Lady."
As she stepped into the Archontiko, it struck her that this was not a home designed with aesthetic in mind. It was not displeasing to the eye, but nor was it as beautiful as it could be. Still, she minded not, for it was none of her business. She supposed the Thanassi's other home must be much grander, for that was where they were rumoured to spend the majority of their time. This, she guessed, was a house they reserved for retreat, for themselves only, and so she was honoured to have been invited inside. She paid little attention to the decor for that point on, instead concentrating on her breathing, her posture, and what she would say to Lord Panos when they met. After being led up a seemingly endless spiral staircase and down a labyrinthine corridor, the servant came to a halt outside a set of double doors.
"These are the chambers that have been allocated to Lord Panos, he is within," he explained, tapping lightly on the door. "Lord Panos? The Lady Ophelia of Condos is without and desires audience."
"May I come in, Lord Panos?" the lady called quietly behind the closed doors, though not so quietly that the great man within would not be able to hear her. "I have brought you several gifts, and have long desired to meet you. May I please come and make the acquaintance of my cousin?"
The Great Lord Panos.
She had heard of him, of course. Everyone had heard of him -- at least, everyone who had not spent their entire lives living under a rock. He was a living legend: a man of steel and stone. Though she had never laid eyes upon him, she had seen his countenance depicted in several portraits. His physical appearance matched very well to the descriptions she had heard of his character. At a dinner party, she had heard tell from one man that his features were as sharp as he was. Indeed, one artist who fancied themselves a dab hand at political satire had even had the audacity to depict Lord Panos slicing through a diamond with his chin and remaining entirely unharmed. After seeing this, she had briefly wondered how the man himself would react were he ever to come across it.
She had never thought to meet him, despite the fact that he was technically her distant cousin. Almost all of the noble houses were related in some way, after all -- generations of intermarriage had seen to that. However, fate seemed to have other ideas, or rather her father did.
It was not typical for him to entrust matters of business to her. He had always made quite plain to Ophelia that her place was at Court, not in the vineyard. But a rather strange situation had recently cropped up, one that a man such as her father had not the skills to deal with. Whereas he was a natural at negotiations, he knew nothing of gossip, scandal and the machinations of those who would try to bring down a business with their words. He knew that it was dangerous, but not how to combat it.
The maids had been whispering for weeks now, insisting among each other that the Marikas were thieves, somehow able to steal Condos secrets and spirit them back to their province of Thessaly. Indeed, Thessaly was thriving, Ophelia could not deny it. NOr could her father. But the Condos Lord was as foreign to the world of rumours as Ophelia was to that of the Senate. Should he attempt to discover the truth of this, he knew he would falter. His daughter, however, was charming, beautiful and silver-tongued, skilled in the art of conversation, more well placed than any other Condos to extract the truth from the fierce Lord.
She had made up her mind instantaneously to treat him as an innocent unless, or until, he proved himself guilty. She would be amicable, just as one noble should be to another. He would find no reason to complain of her conduct until she could find fault with his. She had heard that he was notorious for looking down upon others, but her father had assured her he was less likely to do so with hers, for theirs was an old and well-established house. It seemed to be new money at which he turned up his nose.
"He may not approve of your charitable endeavours," Thisbe warned her as she and her three handmaidens rode in an ebony carriage. Aoide, who had been gazing out of the window at the Colchan scenery, turned to hear what her mistress would say. "Perhaps he will not, but I shall defend my endeavours while remaining polite," Ophelia assured the elder, a borrowed servant from her mother's coterie. "I do hope he likes the gifts we have brought him." "My Lady, I have heard that Lord Panos is not partial to very much," Thisbe warned cautiously. "Well, let us at least hope he receives me graciously."
She had certainly put forth her best effort, dressing in a garment of scarlet and gold. The sleeves were short and three-tiered. A thin braid of gold laced with rubies hung at her waist, nipping in the fabric and serving to accentuate her every feminine curve. The skirt was split into two -- an underskirt of shimmering gold silk and an open overskirt of Condos red. Gilden sandals slid between her toes. Half of her hair was pinned into a braid, the rest left to hang in loose waves down her back. At her brow sat a coronel of ruby and gold. Ruby teardrops hung from a golden chain around her neck, glistened in her ears and sparkled on her wrists. The faintest scent of rose wafted from beneath the jewels where perfume had been tastefully applied.
As the carriage drew to a halt, she made ready to descend. Her driver came forth immediately to open the door, letting in a pleasant breeze. As a silver staircase was set before them, her handmaidens descended in order of rank. She watched them, smoothing down her skirts before taking the large palm of the aging man and permitting him the honour of assisting in her emergence.
No sooner had her feet touched solid ground than a servant in Thanassi liverie approached her, bowing low before meeting her gaze. "Lady Ophelia of Condos, what is it we can do for you today?" "Please, Sir, if I may, I should like to speak with Lord Panos of Marikas," her voice was as soft as a cloud, earning a smile from the servant, whom she guessed to be of quite high rank by the finer quality of his tunic. "I do not see why that should be a problem. At the very least, a woman of your standing should be able to beg an audience yourself. It would be an insult for me to do it for you," the grey-haired man beamed benevolently down at her. "Come inside and I shall take you to him. I can arrange for your coterie to be taken care of while you visit with Lord Panos." "That would be most agreeable, thank you," Ophelia turned to her three handmaidens and two guards, straightening her posture. "You are to go with this gentleman while I visit with Lord Panos," she instructed. She did not look at Evanthe as she gave this command, as she always felt strange commanding Evanthe. Instead, she fixed her eyes upon Aoide, the lowest ranked of them all. "Aoide, hand me the basket, please."
Aoide obliged immediately, reaching into the carriage and producing a large wicker basket. Within lay her offering to Panos, neatly packaged. Everything from succulent fruit to choice cuts of meat awaited him. She offered no wine, as she thought that might be an insult, but she did offer several of her own creations -- some baked, some sewn, some painted. She sincerely hoped he would like the blanket woven with the Marikas and Leventi crests, the painting of Poseidon, the exquisite vase that bore his name and title in Koptic. They were made by her own hand, for no other reason than because she had wished to please a distant cousin lest the rumours prove false. She sincerely hoped they were, for she was hoping to make a friend -- not a rival -- on this day.
"If the rest of you would kindly wait here, I will return to escort you to our servants' area, where you may eat and talk with the Thanassi servants while your Lady does so with our guest," the man her small group in a benevolent manner. His voice held a gravellery undertone that she was now growing accustomed to, for it seemed to run through the citizens of Colchis much like the blood through their veins, but there was nothing intimidating about it. Voices varied from husky lilts to harsh sounding grunts, but the smiles that had accompanied the spoken words had made clear to Ophelia all were friendly here -- at least, all she had encountered so far.
"We shall remain," Theron, the head of her personal guard, assured the man, who then turned his attention to Ophelia. "If you will then follow me, My Lady."
As she stepped into the Archontiko, it struck her that this was not a home designed with aesthetic in mind. It was not displeasing to the eye, but nor was it as beautiful as it could be. Still, she minded not, for it was none of her business. She supposed the Thanassi's other home must be much grander, for that was where they were rumoured to spend the majority of their time. This, she guessed, was a house they reserved for retreat, for themselves only, and so she was honoured to have been invited inside. She paid little attention to the decor for that point on, instead concentrating on her breathing, her posture, and what she would say to Lord Panos when they met. After being led up a seemingly endless spiral staircase and down a labyrinthine corridor, the servant came to a halt outside a set of double doors.
"These are the chambers that have been allocated to Lord Panos, he is within," he explained, tapping lightly on the door. "Lord Panos? The Lady Ophelia of Condos is without and desires audience."
"May I come in, Lord Panos?" the lady called quietly behind the closed doors, though not so quietly that the great man within would not be able to hear her. "I have brought you several gifts, and have long desired to meet you. May I please come and make the acquaintance of my cousin?"
Time waited for none, especially those that both led and ruled, and, although, Panos had stepped down as the paramount leader of House Marikas, the business of politics still preoccupied his time. It was true that he had agreed to travel with his family to Colchis in the name of that so-called peace festival, one that he did not have a particularly strong opinion either way, but that did not stop him from busying himself reading incoming missives and responding to his letters through with agile, but thorough precision. As per his wishes, his request to have one of the rooms allotted to his bloodline had been converted into a makeshift desk. It wasn’t as comfortable or useful as the one he had in Athenia, but the one provided by his hosts, the Thanasi, had sufficed for now. He wasn’t going to fuss over such mundane manners as stationary after all. Nevertheless, he still had brought over his personalized stylus, always carrying the gift his wife had tendered him years prior wherever he went, especially if he knew he would have to spend much time jotting down his infinite thoughts.
And as it just so happened, that had been how he had spent much of the later half of his day, hunched over his desk, with his owl-shaped stylus at hand, like a swordsman would brandish a sword, scratching notes and letters upon papyrus and clay tablets that he impressed upon with the elegant, sooth handwriting that he had been taught to master since his earliest days by Ivra’s watchful eye, beneath the supervision of his tutors. Thus he continued, confined to his affairs in perfect, reflective and productive solitude, pouncing the paper with finely grounded cuttlefish bone so as to give it a enviously smooth, but sturdy enough to write upon, a small detail that denoted the upscale manner by which Panos had been known to carry himself in all aspects of his life. It may have been fastidious, but, between the pouncing, writing, folding and sealing, complete with the owl-shaped crest that was forged upon his signet ring, the elder Marikas found his times quite relaxing, if not, oddly satisfying. Their was an art to his industry, one that denoted his proper-breeding and etiquette, and he never missed the mark when it came to these things, going as far as discarding otherwise perfect documents that were subpar in their aesthetics.
Yet, even when a servant, one that belonged to the Thanasi, came upon him mid-work, the Master of Law continued with his affairs, never raising his frigid eyes from his letters as he heard the footman’s words. It was a request for an audience, an unscheduled and most irregular occurrence if ever, and one that he would, at most instances, turn down had it not been for the fact that the one who had requested such a meeting was one of royal of blood and proper standing, Lady Ophelia of Dyansteia Condos. It would have been insulting to turn down such a request, especially given the circumstances that had brought him to the Kirakles isles in the first place, away from the properness of Athenia. Yet, his sense of protocol and etiquette had him frowning. Had Lord Nikolias not raised his daughter in better fashion so as to make the proper arrangements necessary for an audience? There were reasons why people created timetables and organized themselves with schedules after all, for there was an order to things, and such a break with standard procedure did not bode well with him. Alas, it was probably some sort of inconsequential meet after all. What harm would there be in at least being polite to the seemingly unprepared royal lady?
Dismissing the footman with a simple confirmation, Panos finished the last of his letters for now, slashing the surface of the paper with the flourished signature that had been his mark of distinction for years now, before blowing away the excess cuttlefish bone and drying the ink until it was all neat and smooth. Afterwards, he sealed it and attached the message unto one of his beloved pet owls, this one white as snow, with the delicate name of Pallas, fitting, given the goddess he worshipped. Just as his beautiful, majestic and sophisticated, but practical bird spread her legs to take off, the Lady Ophelia appeared, entering with a question and introducing herself with ‘Lord Panos’. That was not right. Upon first impression, one used the style, which in his case was His Lordship or Your Lordship, before addressing him by his birth name. Moreover, while he certainly was a lord, he was nothing as lowly as just that. He was Master of Law of Athenia, the chief advisor to the crown when it came to matters legal and juridical. Surely, this lady of royalty had learned these formalities with her tutors. Or, were his suspicions about her House true and the Condos did not provide their womenfolk with a proper education of sorts?
“Your Ladyship, Lady Ophelia of House Condos…” He said, an air of intimidating ancientness breaking through his lightly wrinkled face and deeply furrowed brow. A hand was outstretched so as to kiss the ring upon his hand, as was the proper procedure whenever an audience was requested. “Cousin…” He said, still maintaining the same dignified tone in his deep, authoritative voice. As he continued, he bowed his head slightly, continuing with the ceremony that was expected of those of their station. His eyes, intense and commanding, were wide and held in clear starks. “Yes, you may. Pray, to what do I owe the pleasure of your company, Lady Ophelia?” It was a practical, and right-to-the-point question, betraying the non-nonsense attitude of the proud Athenian lord that stood a living embodiment of traditions and properness.
He then turned his attention to the plentiful and varied objects that were inside the gift basket she had brought. Had she come all this way, in such a random and completely unnannounced way just to parlay a gift exchange? How strange. How very strange. Alas, she was Taengea, and they were of warm bloods and hospitable inclinations, which, the Lady Ophelia did not seem to contradict. Their were things that certainly entertained his fancy, but others he was not particularly well-inclined towards. Still, their was a cleaver selection of fresh fish and prawns, which were always a favorite of the elder Marikas. With a politician's graceful expression, he accepted the basket, resting it by the side of his desk so that one of the staff would bring it upon his private quarters for later inspection and more thorough investigation.
As good old-fashioned manners dictated, he offered her a seat at one of the available chairs, and silently motioned for one of the slaves to pour the customary wine that was often exchanged between people that met, but who had not seen each other for a while. “You must forgive me, Cousin. I fear my wine pales in comparison to your distinguished bloodline’s very own blends.” He smiled politely, still upholding the almost majestic constancy that so denoted him, but doing so in a more inviting way, treating the Taengean royal as he would anyone he would entertain with strategic diplomacy.
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Time waited for none, especially those that both led and ruled, and, although, Panos had stepped down as the paramount leader of House Marikas, the business of politics still preoccupied his time. It was true that he had agreed to travel with his family to Colchis in the name of that so-called peace festival, one that he did not have a particularly strong opinion either way, but that did not stop him from busying himself reading incoming missives and responding to his letters through with agile, but thorough precision. As per his wishes, his request to have one of the rooms allotted to his bloodline had been converted into a makeshift desk. It wasn’t as comfortable or useful as the one he had in Athenia, but the one provided by his hosts, the Thanasi, had sufficed for now. He wasn’t going to fuss over such mundane manners as stationary after all. Nevertheless, he still had brought over his personalized stylus, always carrying the gift his wife had tendered him years prior wherever he went, especially if he knew he would have to spend much time jotting down his infinite thoughts.
And as it just so happened, that had been how he had spent much of the later half of his day, hunched over his desk, with his owl-shaped stylus at hand, like a swordsman would brandish a sword, scratching notes and letters upon papyrus and clay tablets that he impressed upon with the elegant, sooth handwriting that he had been taught to master since his earliest days by Ivra’s watchful eye, beneath the supervision of his tutors. Thus he continued, confined to his affairs in perfect, reflective and productive solitude, pouncing the paper with finely grounded cuttlefish bone so as to give it a enviously smooth, but sturdy enough to write upon, a small detail that denoted the upscale manner by which Panos had been known to carry himself in all aspects of his life. It may have been fastidious, but, between the pouncing, writing, folding and sealing, complete with the owl-shaped crest that was forged upon his signet ring, the elder Marikas found his times quite relaxing, if not, oddly satisfying. Their was an art to his industry, one that denoted his proper-breeding and etiquette, and he never missed the mark when it came to these things, going as far as discarding otherwise perfect documents that were subpar in their aesthetics.
Yet, even when a servant, one that belonged to the Thanasi, came upon him mid-work, the Master of Law continued with his affairs, never raising his frigid eyes from his letters as he heard the footman’s words. It was a request for an audience, an unscheduled and most irregular occurrence if ever, and one that he would, at most instances, turn down had it not been for the fact that the one who had requested such a meeting was one of royal of blood and proper standing, Lady Ophelia of Dyansteia Condos. It would have been insulting to turn down such a request, especially given the circumstances that had brought him to the Kirakles isles in the first place, away from the properness of Athenia. Yet, his sense of protocol and etiquette had him frowning. Had Lord Nikolias not raised his daughter in better fashion so as to make the proper arrangements necessary for an audience? There were reasons why people created timetables and organized themselves with schedules after all, for there was an order to things, and such a break with standard procedure did not bode well with him. Alas, it was probably some sort of inconsequential meet after all. What harm would there be in at least being polite to the seemingly unprepared royal lady?
Dismissing the footman with a simple confirmation, Panos finished the last of his letters for now, slashing the surface of the paper with the flourished signature that had been his mark of distinction for years now, before blowing away the excess cuttlefish bone and drying the ink until it was all neat and smooth. Afterwards, he sealed it and attached the message unto one of his beloved pet owls, this one white as snow, with the delicate name of Pallas, fitting, given the goddess he worshipped. Just as his beautiful, majestic and sophisticated, but practical bird spread her legs to take off, the Lady Ophelia appeared, entering with a question and introducing herself with ‘Lord Panos’. That was not right. Upon first impression, one used the style, which in his case was His Lordship or Your Lordship, before addressing him by his birth name. Moreover, while he certainly was a lord, he was nothing as lowly as just that. He was Master of Law of Athenia, the chief advisor to the crown when it came to matters legal and juridical. Surely, this lady of royalty had learned these formalities with her tutors. Or, were his suspicions about her House true and the Condos did not provide their womenfolk with a proper education of sorts?
“Your Ladyship, Lady Ophelia of House Condos…” He said, an air of intimidating ancientness breaking through his lightly wrinkled face and deeply furrowed brow. A hand was outstretched so as to kiss the ring upon his hand, as was the proper procedure whenever an audience was requested. “Cousin…” He said, still maintaining the same dignified tone in his deep, authoritative voice. As he continued, he bowed his head slightly, continuing with the ceremony that was expected of those of their station. His eyes, intense and commanding, were wide and held in clear starks. “Yes, you may. Pray, to what do I owe the pleasure of your company, Lady Ophelia?” It was a practical, and right-to-the-point question, betraying the non-nonsense attitude of the proud Athenian lord that stood a living embodiment of traditions and properness.
He then turned his attention to the plentiful and varied objects that were inside the gift basket she had brought. Had she come all this way, in such a random and completely unnannounced way just to parlay a gift exchange? How strange. How very strange. Alas, she was Taengea, and they were of warm bloods and hospitable inclinations, which, the Lady Ophelia did not seem to contradict. Their were things that certainly entertained his fancy, but others he was not particularly well-inclined towards. Still, their was a cleaver selection of fresh fish and prawns, which were always a favorite of the elder Marikas. With a politician's graceful expression, he accepted the basket, resting it by the side of his desk so that one of the staff would bring it upon his private quarters for later inspection and more thorough investigation.
As good old-fashioned manners dictated, he offered her a seat at one of the available chairs, and silently motioned for one of the slaves to pour the customary wine that was often exchanged between people that met, but who had not seen each other for a while. “You must forgive me, Cousin. I fear my wine pales in comparison to your distinguished bloodline’s very own blends.” He smiled politely, still upholding the almost majestic constancy that so denoted him, but doing so in a more inviting way, treating the Taengean royal as he would anyone he would entertain with strategic diplomacy.
Time waited for none, especially those that both led and ruled, and, although, Panos had stepped down as the paramount leader of House Marikas, the business of politics still preoccupied his time. It was true that he had agreed to travel with his family to Colchis in the name of that so-called peace festival, one that he did not have a particularly strong opinion either way, but that did not stop him from busying himself reading incoming missives and responding to his letters through with agile, but thorough precision. As per his wishes, his request to have one of the rooms allotted to his bloodline had been converted into a makeshift desk. It wasn’t as comfortable or useful as the one he had in Athenia, but the one provided by his hosts, the Thanasi, had sufficed for now. He wasn’t going to fuss over such mundane manners as stationary after all. Nevertheless, he still had brought over his personalized stylus, always carrying the gift his wife had tendered him years prior wherever he went, especially if he knew he would have to spend much time jotting down his infinite thoughts.
And as it just so happened, that had been how he had spent much of the later half of his day, hunched over his desk, with his owl-shaped stylus at hand, like a swordsman would brandish a sword, scratching notes and letters upon papyrus and clay tablets that he impressed upon with the elegant, sooth handwriting that he had been taught to master since his earliest days by Ivra’s watchful eye, beneath the supervision of his tutors. Thus he continued, confined to his affairs in perfect, reflective and productive solitude, pouncing the paper with finely grounded cuttlefish bone so as to give it a enviously smooth, but sturdy enough to write upon, a small detail that denoted the upscale manner by which Panos had been known to carry himself in all aspects of his life. It may have been fastidious, but, between the pouncing, writing, folding and sealing, complete with the owl-shaped crest that was forged upon his signet ring, the elder Marikas found his times quite relaxing, if not, oddly satisfying. Their was an art to his industry, one that denoted his proper-breeding and etiquette, and he never missed the mark when it came to these things, going as far as discarding otherwise perfect documents that were subpar in their aesthetics.
Yet, even when a servant, one that belonged to the Thanasi, came upon him mid-work, the Master of Law continued with his affairs, never raising his frigid eyes from his letters as he heard the footman’s words. It was a request for an audience, an unscheduled and most irregular occurrence if ever, and one that he would, at most instances, turn down had it not been for the fact that the one who had requested such a meeting was one of royal of blood and proper standing, Lady Ophelia of Dyansteia Condos. It would have been insulting to turn down such a request, especially given the circumstances that had brought him to the Kirakles isles in the first place, away from the properness of Athenia. Yet, his sense of protocol and etiquette had him frowning. Had Lord Nikolias not raised his daughter in better fashion so as to make the proper arrangements necessary for an audience? There were reasons why people created timetables and organized themselves with schedules after all, for there was an order to things, and such a break with standard procedure did not bode well with him. Alas, it was probably some sort of inconsequential meet after all. What harm would there be in at least being polite to the seemingly unprepared royal lady?
Dismissing the footman with a simple confirmation, Panos finished the last of his letters for now, slashing the surface of the paper with the flourished signature that had been his mark of distinction for years now, before blowing away the excess cuttlefish bone and drying the ink until it was all neat and smooth. Afterwards, he sealed it and attached the message unto one of his beloved pet owls, this one white as snow, with the delicate name of Pallas, fitting, given the goddess he worshipped. Just as his beautiful, majestic and sophisticated, but practical bird spread her legs to take off, the Lady Ophelia appeared, entering with a question and introducing herself with ‘Lord Panos’. That was not right. Upon first impression, one used the style, which in his case was His Lordship or Your Lordship, before addressing him by his birth name. Moreover, while he certainly was a lord, he was nothing as lowly as just that. He was Master of Law of Athenia, the chief advisor to the crown when it came to matters legal and juridical. Surely, this lady of royalty had learned these formalities with her tutors. Or, were his suspicions about her House true and the Condos did not provide their womenfolk with a proper education of sorts?
“Your Ladyship, Lady Ophelia of House Condos…” He said, an air of intimidating ancientness breaking through his lightly wrinkled face and deeply furrowed brow. A hand was outstretched so as to kiss the ring upon his hand, as was the proper procedure whenever an audience was requested. “Cousin…” He said, still maintaining the same dignified tone in his deep, authoritative voice. As he continued, he bowed his head slightly, continuing with the ceremony that was expected of those of their station. His eyes, intense and commanding, were wide and held in clear starks. “Yes, you may. Pray, to what do I owe the pleasure of your company, Lady Ophelia?” It was a practical, and right-to-the-point question, betraying the non-nonsense attitude of the proud Athenian lord that stood a living embodiment of traditions and properness.
He then turned his attention to the plentiful and varied objects that were inside the gift basket she had brought. Had she come all this way, in such a random and completely unnannounced way just to parlay a gift exchange? How strange. How very strange. Alas, she was Taengea, and they were of warm bloods and hospitable inclinations, which, the Lady Ophelia did not seem to contradict. Their were things that certainly entertained his fancy, but others he was not particularly well-inclined towards. Still, their was a cleaver selection of fresh fish and prawns, which were always a favorite of the elder Marikas. With a politician's graceful expression, he accepted the basket, resting it by the side of his desk so that one of the staff would bring it upon his private quarters for later inspection and more thorough investigation.
As good old-fashioned manners dictated, he offered her a seat at one of the available chairs, and silently motioned for one of the slaves to pour the customary wine that was often exchanged between people that met, but who had not seen each other for a while. “You must forgive me, Cousin. I fear my wine pales in comparison to your distinguished bloodline’s very own blends.” He smiled politely, still upholding the almost majestic constancy that so denoted him, but doing so in a more inviting way, treating the Taengean royal as he would anyone he would entertain with strategic diplomacy.
Upon entering the room, she realized that she had done everything wrong. A stylis was laid out upon his desk, making quite plain to her that she had disturbed him at his work -- very important work, she knew. She ought to have made an appointment, but in her foolishness she had assumed that all would be receptive to visitors at any time in honour of the celebrations. These days were an ode to peace, after all; an encouragement for those of all walks of life to mingle and be merry.
Lord Panos, however, did not look as though he has ever be merry. Indeed, she doubted he was capable of it. Those who had rendered his image had not done it justice, for try as they most definitely had, they had failed to capture the cold, hard edges of the man. His eyes were of ice and the edges of his thin face looked sharp enough to cut and draw blood.
Perhaps, sudd'enly intimidated as she was, that was why she stumbled a second time. As soon as the words had left her, she knew she had misspoke. Panos was no mere Lord, but a Master. He would not appreciate being addressed so. Ophelia could feel her her heart squirming in her chest. Though he had yet to speak, an overwhelming desire to run overcame her. It was not typical for her to make such errors, and she knew not why she was making them. She forced air into her lungs, assuring herself that all could be mended.
'Your Ladyship, Lady Ophelia of House Condos…' his brows were furrowed as he peered at her with that glacial gaze. Determined to regain his favour, however, she dipped into a graceful curtsy and bowed her head in curtsy, rising only when his hand was extended. Immediately she came forth to kiss his ring, her eyes admiring the exquisite craftsmanship of the piece as her lips withdrew.
"Forgive me, Master Panos, for missieaking upon my entry. I confess that I was quite overwhelmed by your presence," she smiled slightly, hoping that he might warm to her due to familial relations, or at the very least be accustomed to tongue-tying others with his imposing demeanour. "The craftsmanship of your ring is very fine. Was it made in Colchis or Athenia? My own signet ring was made in Colchis," she allowed her own emerald eyes to rest upon him. Nervous as she was, they were filled with warmth, an open invitation to friendship. She thought perhaps if she could engage the man in conversation, he would not seem so frightening to her, and perhaps she might even discover that he had a softer side that none had learned of.
'COusin...' he seemed to muse as he bowed his head ever so slightly. Ophelia nodded, rosebud lips curving upwards ever so slightly. Eventually, his gaze met hers again. Once more she found herself in the thrall of his icy stare, both awed and unnerved by his presence. When he spoke, however, a small measure of relief crept over her.
'Yes, you may. Pray, to what do I owe the pleasure of your company, Lady Ophelia?'
It was a perfectly acceptable question. Polite in its phrasing, but straight to the point, just as this man was said to be. The embodiment of Athenian etiquette.
"I confess, you rather intrigue me, Master Panos. I have heard many speak of you, but never had the pleasure of your company. I was rather pleased to hear that you would be attending the ceremony with your family. Alas, the grounds are so large that I have no seen you there, though I have sought you, so I thought I would seek you elsewhere. I do apologize however for disturbing you at work; I know you are a great and busy man with many cares, and so I am truly grateful for this audience."
Her smile broadened slightly as he began to explore the contents of his basket. He seemed pleased with the fresh fish and prawns, which delighted her greatly, for she too was a lover of aquatic cuisine. She knew that not everything in the basket would be to his liking, but that was why she had been most careful to vary its contents, so that he might at least find a few things that were to his fancy.
"I am most pleased that you have done me the great honour of accepting my gift," she murmured softly, her gentle smile remaining in place as she accepted his gracious offer of a seat. She selected one that was near enough to the Lord to allow for easy conversation, but not so close as to intrude upon his privacy.
When the slave came forward with the wine, Ophelia watched him out of the corner of her eye. She murmured a quiet "thank you," as the attendant placed the goblet in her hand, then turned her attention immediately to Lord Panos, who now called her 'cousin' rather than Lady Ophelia. She found that she did not mind this at all, but she paid particular heed to his words. 'You must forgive me, Cousin. I fear my wine pales in comparison to your distinguished bloodline’s very own blends.'
"Come now," silvery words came easy to Ophelia, but in this instance she was cautious. She chose her words with care, though she also took pains not to hesitate too long, lest she accidentally betray the reason for her visit. She lifted the goblet to her lips, tasting the sweet substance and allowing her smile to naturally broaden. "This wine is exquisite," her compliment was genuine. "And I hear your wines praised at all the festivals. You do so very well, and rightfully so."
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Upon entering the room, she realized that she had done everything wrong. A stylis was laid out upon his desk, making quite plain to her that she had disturbed him at his work -- very important work, she knew. She ought to have made an appointment, but in her foolishness she had assumed that all would be receptive to visitors at any time in honour of the celebrations. These days were an ode to peace, after all; an encouragement for those of all walks of life to mingle and be merry.
Lord Panos, however, did not look as though he has ever be merry. Indeed, she doubted he was capable of it. Those who had rendered his image had not done it justice, for try as they most definitely had, they had failed to capture the cold, hard edges of the man. His eyes were of ice and the edges of his thin face looked sharp enough to cut and draw blood.
Perhaps, sudd'enly intimidated as she was, that was why she stumbled a second time. As soon as the words had left her, she knew she had misspoke. Panos was no mere Lord, but a Master. He would not appreciate being addressed so. Ophelia could feel her her heart squirming in her chest. Though he had yet to speak, an overwhelming desire to run overcame her. It was not typical for her to make such errors, and she knew not why she was making them. She forced air into her lungs, assuring herself that all could be mended.
'Your Ladyship, Lady Ophelia of House Condos…' his brows were furrowed as he peered at her with that glacial gaze. Determined to regain his favour, however, she dipped into a graceful curtsy and bowed her head in curtsy, rising only when his hand was extended. Immediately she came forth to kiss his ring, her eyes admiring the exquisite craftsmanship of the piece as her lips withdrew.
"Forgive me, Master Panos, for missieaking upon my entry. I confess that I was quite overwhelmed by your presence," she smiled slightly, hoping that he might warm to her due to familial relations, or at the very least be accustomed to tongue-tying others with his imposing demeanour. "The craftsmanship of your ring is very fine. Was it made in Colchis or Athenia? My own signet ring was made in Colchis," she allowed her own emerald eyes to rest upon him. Nervous as she was, they were filled with warmth, an open invitation to friendship. She thought perhaps if she could engage the man in conversation, he would not seem so frightening to her, and perhaps she might even discover that he had a softer side that none had learned of.
'COusin...' he seemed to muse as he bowed his head ever so slightly. Ophelia nodded, rosebud lips curving upwards ever so slightly. Eventually, his gaze met hers again. Once more she found herself in the thrall of his icy stare, both awed and unnerved by his presence. When he spoke, however, a small measure of relief crept over her.
'Yes, you may. Pray, to what do I owe the pleasure of your company, Lady Ophelia?'
It was a perfectly acceptable question. Polite in its phrasing, but straight to the point, just as this man was said to be. The embodiment of Athenian etiquette.
"I confess, you rather intrigue me, Master Panos. I have heard many speak of you, but never had the pleasure of your company. I was rather pleased to hear that you would be attending the ceremony with your family. Alas, the grounds are so large that I have no seen you there, though I have sought you, so I thought I would seek you elsewhere. I do apologize however for disturbing you at work; I know you are a great and busy man with many cares, and so I am truly grateful for this audience."
Her smile broadened slightly as he began to explore the contents of his basket. He seemed pleased with the fresh fish and prawns, which delighted her greatly, for she too was a lover of aquatic cuisine. She knew that not everything in the basket would be to his liking, but that was why she had been most careful to vary its contents, so that he might at least find a few things that were to his fancy.
"I am most pleased that you have done me the great honour of accepting my gift," she murmured softly, her gentle smile remaining in place as she accepted his gracious offer of a seat. She selected one that was near enough to the Lord to allow for easy conversation, but not so close as to intrude upon his privacy.
When the slave came forward with the wine, Ophelia watched him out of the corner of her eye. She murmured a quiet "thank you," as the attendant placed the goblet in her hand, then turned her attention immediately to Lord Panos, who now called her 'cousin' rather than Lady Ophelia. She found that she did not mind this at all, but she paid particular heed to his words. 'You must forgive me, Cousin. I fear my wine pales in comparison to your distinguished bloodline’s very own blends.'
"Come now," silvery words came easy to Ophelia, but in this instance she was cautious. She chose her words with care, though she also took pains not to hesitate too long, lest she accidentally betray the reason for her visit. She lifted the goblet to her lips, tasting the sweet substance and allowing her smile to naturally broaden. "This wine is exquisite," her compliment was genuine. "And I hear your wines praised at all the festivals. You do so very well, and rightfully so."
Upon entering the room, she realized that she had done everything wrong. A stylis was laid out upon his desk, making quite plain to her that she had disturbed him at his work -- very important work, she knew. She ought to have made an appointment, but in her foolishness she had assumed that all would be receptive to visitors at any time in honour of the celebrations. These days were an ode to peace, after all; an encouragement for those of all walks of life to mingle and be merry.
Lord Panos, however, did not look as though he has ever be merry. Indeed, she doubted he was capable of it. Those who had rendered his image had not done it justice, for try as they most definitely had, they had failed to capture the cold, hard edges of the man. His eyes were of ice and the edges of his thin face looked sharp enough to cut and draw blood.
Perhaps, sudd'enly intimidated as she was, that was why she stumbled a second time. As soon as the words had left her, she knew she had misspoke. Panos was no mere Lord, but a Master. He would not appreciate being addressed so. Ophelia could feel her her heart squirming in her chest. Though he had yet to speak, an overwhelming desire to run overcame her. It was not typical for her to make such errors, and she knew not why she was making them. She forced air into her lungs, assuring herself that all could be mended.
'Your Ladyship, Lady Ophelia of House Condos…' his brows were furrowed as he peered at her with that glacial gaze. Determined to regain his favour, however, she dipped into a graceful curtsy and bowed her head in curtsy, rising only when his hand was extended. Immediately she came forth to kiss his ring, her eyes admiring the exquisite craftsmanship of the piece as her lips withdrew.
"Forgive me, Master Panos, for missieaking upon my entry. I confess that I was quite overwhelmed by your presence," she smiled slightly, hoping that he might warm to her due to familial relations, or at the very least be accustomed to tongue-tying others with his imposing demeanour. "The craftsmanship of your ring is very fine. Was it made in Colchis or Athenia? My own signet ring was made in Colchis," she allowed her own emerald eyes to rest upon him. Nervous as she was, they were filled with warmth, an open invitation to friendship. She thought perhaps if she could engage the man in conversation, he would not seem so frightening to her, and perhaps she might even discover that he had a softer side that none had learned of.
'COusin...' he seemed to muse as he bowed his head ever so slightly. Ophelia nodded, rosebud lips curving upwards ever so slightly. Eventually, his gaze met hers again. Once more she found herself in the thrall of his icy stare, both awed and unnerved by his presence. When he spoke, however, a small measure of relief crept over her.
'Yes, you may. Pray, to what do I owe the pleasure of your company, Lady Ophelia?'
It was a perfectly acceptable question. Polite in its phrasing, but straight to the point, just as this man was said to be. The embodiment of Athenian etiquette.
"I confess, you rather intrigue me, Master Panos. I have heard many speak of you, but never had the pleasure of your company. I was rather pleased to hear that you would be attending the ceremony with your family. Alas, the grounds are so large that I have no seen you there, though I have sought you, so I thought I would seek you elsewhere. I do apologize however for disturbing you at work; I know you are a great and busy man with many cares, and so I am truly grateful for this audience."
Her smile broadened slightly as he began to explore the contents of his basket. He seemed pleased with the fresh fish and prawns, which delighted her greatly, for she too was a lover of aquatic cuisine. She knew that not everything in the basket would be to his liking, but that was why she had been most careful to vary its contents, so that he might at least find a few things that were to his fancy.
"I am most pleased that you have done me the great honour of accepting my gift," she murmured softly, her gentle smile remaining in place as she accepted his gracious offer of a seat. She selected one that was near enough to the Lord to allow for easy conversation, but not so close as to intrude upon his privacy.
When the slave came forward with the wine, Ophelia watched him out of the corner of her eye. She murmured a quiet "thank you," as the attendant placed the goblet in her hand, then turned her attention immediately to Lord Panos, who now called her 'cousin' rather than Lady Ophelia. She found that she did not mind this at all, but she paid particular heed to his words. 'You must forgive me, Cousin. I fear my wine pales in comparison to your distinguished bloodline’s very own blends.'
"Come now," silvery words came easy to Ophelia, but in this instance she was cautious. She chose her words with care, though she also took pains not to hesitate too long, lest she accidentally betray the reason for her visit. She lifted the goblet to her lips, tasting the sweet substance and allowing her smile to naturally broaden. "This wine is exquisite," her compliment was genuine. "And I hear your wines praised at all the festivals. You do so very well, and rightfully so."
No sooner had this daughter of House Condos intruded upon his chambers had Panos felt the urge to change his mind and send her away and be off on her way, far from his presence so as to tend back to the proper business of governance. He supposed that her curtsy had been acceptable, low enough at the bend and as proper in its execution as he could expect from a Taengean, rowdy and overly-gregarious as they were. And then their was the matter of her respectful kiss upon his ring, clearly acknowledging him as a proper elder statesmen, but he would not give her further credit in that regard. Being able to conduct oneself in the most basic of politesse was not a high achievement in his eyes, but a bare hallmark of those of true breeding and right education. Would the shepherd congratulate the sheep for growing its wool for sheering? No, of course not, for that was what was expected of the animal. Just so, he would not entertain the Lady Ophelia for behaving in a manner appropriate of a woman of her station.
Oddly enough, instead of tending to straightforward business, the dark-haired, elegant woman had judged it wiser to engage in small-talk, a move that Panos did not appreciate at all, responding it with an unspoken narrowing of his frigid eyes as he bared the weight of his station on her. It seemed as though he was wrong in his assumptions and indeed, the Lady Condos had come forward upon him merely to have what other, less-significant men and women dubbed, small-talk. Then came her confession that she had been intimidated by his presence, a rookie confession at best, for a third-rate politician, and a deadly revelation to a man as experience in matters of administration as Panos. One did not just confess to their present state of being before a stranger? Truly, Lord Nikolias had not educated his daughter in diplomatic ventures at all, Panos thought, feeling his lips tighten as his ears returned to another topic of conversation that he found pointless and irrelevant.
“Cousin, do you not recognize it?” He somewhat quizzed, trying to gauge just how much did Ophelia know about the history of their respective bloodlines. He could detect the attempt at cordiality from the green-eyed woman, but intent on friendship was not an immediate translation of such desired conditionality. Then he heard how she said she owned a signet ring of her own, a curious thing he considered. What use would a woman have for a signet ring? Did Taengea allow for such importance to be freely distributed upon the written words of their womenfolk so as to warrant the necessity of a signet ring? Preposterous! What errant nonsense! No letter written by one of the fairer sex would be crucial enough to require the use of seals and signet rings. It was in that moment that Panos almost felt his eyebrows notch in disbelief, but, his composure and elegance checked his impulses, maintaining his nondescript expression on his grim, stoic face. “I would expect one such as yourself to recognize this ring, Cousin Ophelia, it is after all a token of our family’s shared past.”
He predicted a continuation of the trivial conversation, until, upon an unexpected sudden, the Lady Ophelia once more switched topics, now going on and on about wanting to meet him in the past, and how his reputation preceded him. Such a jump in logic puzzled him, and in that moment he judged his guest to not be the most focused of individuals, but perhaps that was too harsh of an assumption and final verdict would still be withheld until future notice. Gods, she did speak an awful lot however. Was this due to her previously revealed nerves, or was it the very nature of the Lady Ophelia to ramble upon topics so freely? Perhaps further research would be required, although, on second though, maybe such a move would not be the best move for now. It was only after he thought that she had finished speaking that he tried to broach the subject of her bizarre visitation.
“Yes, I am, as you said, a great and busy man, so if possible might we, perchance, speak about your reason for your visit, cousin?” He inquired, tipping the wine gobbled over his face so as to hide the soured expression on his face, replacing his rather bored look back to its more solemn and aloof one. He had hoped to get to the bottom of this meeting right there, but, as the Fates would have it, the Lady Ophelia once more jumped to another topic, once more frustrating Panos as he felt the furrows on his brow deepen. Surely, this had to be some sort of test. Otherwise, why would this most unusual of conversations be had? And yet, as he looked upon the Lady Ophelia, he came upon a thought. If she would not reveal her reason on her terms, then he would extract the secret from her by his engineering.
“Your words are high praise, Lady Ophelia. Come, wine and company of such good quality should not be spent upon sat chairs and stoned walls.” He invited in an authoritative, commanding tone, standing up from his desk, feeling the stretch of his legs after such prolonged time slouched against his workspace. His arm was outstretched so they could walk besides each other as etiquette demanded whenever those of high blood, but contrasting sexes, made through languid steps. Now on his feet, Panos revealed the full content of his appearance, garbed in fine robes of simple gold with a few black tones to it that denoted the colors of House Marikas. His footwork was noticeably light, subtly suggesting his preference for soft, almost untraceable footsteps. “Walk by me, Cousin. Let us judge these Thanasi gardens together."
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No sooner had this daughter of House Condos intruded upon his chambers had Panos felt the urge to change his mind and send her away and be off on her way, far from his presence so as to tend back to the proper business of governance. He supposed that her curtsy had been acceptable, low enough at the bend and as proper in its execution as he could expect from a Taengean, rowdy and overly-gregarious as they were. And then their was the matter of her respectful kiss upon his ring, clearly acknowledging him as a proper elder statesmen, but he would not give her further credit in that regard. Being able to conduct oneself in the most basic of politesse was not a high achievement in his eyes, but a bare hallmark of those of true breeding and right education. Would the shepherd congratulate the sheep for growing its wool for sheering? No, of course not, for that was what was expected of the animal. Just so, he would not entertain the Lady Ophelia for behaving in a manner appropriate of a woman of her station.
Oddly enough, instead of tending to straightforward business, the dark-haired, elegant woman had judged it wiser to engage in small-talk, a move that Panos did not appreciate at all, responding it with an unspoken narrowing of his frigid eyes as he bared the weight of his station on her. It seemed as though he was wrong in his assumptions and indeed, the Lady Condos had come forward upon him merely to have what other, less-significant men and women dubbed, small-talk. Then came her confession that she had been intimidated by his presence, a rookie confession at best, for a third-rate politician, and a deadly revelation to a man as experience in matters of administration as Panos. One did not just confess to their present state of being before a stranger? Truly, Lord Nikolias had not educated his daughter in diplomatic ventures at all, Panos thought, feeling his lips tighten as his ears returned to another topic of conversation that he found pointless and irrelevant.
“Cousin, do you not recognize it?” He somewhat quizzed, trying to gauge just how much did Ophelia know about the history of their respective bloodlines. He could detect the attempt at cordiality from the green-eyed woman, but intent on friendship was not an immediate translation of such desired conditionality. Then he heard how she said she owned a signet ring of her own, a curious thing he considered. What use would a woman have for a signet ring? Did Taengea allow for such importance to be freely distributed upon the written words of their womenfolk so as to warrant the necessity of a signet ring? Preposterous! What errant nonsense! No letter written by one of the fairer sex would be crucial enough to require the use of seals and signet rings. It was in that moment that Panos almost felt his eyebrows notch in disbelief, but, his composure and elegance checked his impulses, maintaining his nondescript expression on his grim, stoic face. “I would expect one such as yourself to recognize this ring, Cousin Ophelia, it is after all a token of our family’s shared past.”
He predicted a continuation of the trivial conversation, until, upon an unexpected sudden, the Lady Ophelia once more switched topics, now going on and on about wanting to meet him in the past, and how his reputation preceded him. Such a jump in logic puzzled him, and in that moment he judged his guest to not be the most focused of individuals, but perhaps that was too harsh of an assumption and final verdict would still be withheld until future notice. Gods, she did speak an awful lot however. Was this due to her previously revealed nerves, or was it the very nature of the Lady Ophelia to ramble upon topics so freely? Perhaps further research would be required, although, on second though, maybe such a move would not be the best move for now. It was only after he thought that she had finished speaking that he tried to broach the subject of her bizarre visitation.
“Yes, I am, as you said, a great and busy man, so if possible might we, perchance, speak about your reason for your visit, cousin?” He inquired, tipping the wine gobbled over his face so as to hide the soured expression on his face, replacing his rather bored look back to its more solemn and aloof one. He had hoped to get to the bottom of this meeting right there, but, as the Fates would have it, the Lady Ophelia once more jumped to another topic, once more frustrating Panos as he felt the furrows on his brow deepen. Surely, this had to be some sort of test. Otherwise, why would this most unusual of conversations be had? And yet, as he looked upon the Lady Ophelia, he came upon a thought. If she would not reveal her reason on her terms, then he would extract the secret from her by his engineering.
“Your words are high praise, Lady Ophelia. Come, wine and company of such good quality should not be spent upon sat chairs and stoned walls.” He invited in an authoritative, commanding tone, standing up from his desk, feeling the stretch of his legs after such prolonged time slouched against his workspace. His arm was outstretched so they could walk besides each other as etiquette demanded whenever those of high blood, but contrasting sexes, made through languid steps. Now on his feet, Panos revealed the full content of his appearance, garbed in fine robes of simple gold with a few black tones to it that denoted the colors of House Marikas. His footwork was noticeably light, subtly suggesting his preference for soft, almost untraceable footsteps. “Walk by me, Cousin. Let us judge these Thanasi gardens together."
No sooner had this daughter of House Condos intruded upon his chambers had Panos felt the urge to change his mind and send her away and be off on her way, far from his presence so as to tend back to the proper business of governance. He supposed that her curtsy had been acceptable, low enough at the bend and as proper in its execution as he could expect from a Taengean, rowdy and overly-gregarious as they were. And then their was the matter of her respectful kiss upon his ring, clearly acknowledging him as a proper elder statesmen, but he would not give her further credit in that regard. Being able to conduct oneself in the most basic of politesse was not a high achievement in his eyes, but a bare hallmark of those of true breeding and right education. Would the shepherd congratulate the sheep for growing its wool for sheering? No, of course not, for that was what was expected of the animal. Just so, he would not entertain the Lady Ophelia for behaving in a manner appropriate of a woman of her station.
Oddly enough, instead of tending to straightforward business, the dark-haired, elegant woman had judged it wiser to engage in small-talk, a move that Panos did not appreciate at all, responding it with an unspoken narrowing of his frigid eyes as he bared the weight of his station on her. It seemed as though he was wrong in his assumptions and indeed, the Lady Condos had come forward upon him merely to have what other, less-significant men and women dubbed, small-talk. Then came her confession that she had been intimidated by his presence, a rookie confession at best, for a third-rate politician, and a deadly revelation to a man as experience in matters of administration as Panos. One did not just confess to their present state of being before a stranger? Truly, Lord Nikolias had not educated his daughter in diplomatic ventures at all, Panos thought, feeling his lips tighten as his ears returned to another topic of conversation that he found pointless and irrelevant.
“Cousin, do you not recognize it?” He somewhat quizzed, trying to gauge just how much did Ophelia know about the history of their respective bloodlines. He could detect the attempt at cordiality from the green-eyed woman, but intent on friendship was not an immediate translation of such desired conditionality. Then he heard how she said she owned a signet ring of her own, a curious thing he considered. What use would a woman have for a signet ring? Did Taengea allow for such importance to be freely distributed upon the written words of their womenfolk so as to warrant the necessity of a signet ring? Preposterous! What errant nonsense! No letter written by one of the fairer sex would be crucial enough to require the use of seals and signet rings. It was in that moment that Panos almost felt his eyebrows notch in disbelief, but, his composure and elegance checked his impulses, maintaining his nondescript expression on his grim, stoic face. “I would expect one such as yourself to recognize this ring, Cousin Ophelia, it is after all a token of our family’s shared past.”
He predicted a continuation of the trivial conversation, until, upon an unexpected sudden, the Lady Ophelia once more switched topics, now going on and on about wanting to meet him in the past, and how his reputation preceded him. Such a jump in logic puzzled him, and in that moment he judged his guest to not be the most focused of individuals, but perhaps that was too harsh of an assumption and final verdict would still be withheld until future notice. Gods, she did speak an awful lot however. Was this due to her previously revealed nerves, or was it the very nature of the Lady Ophelia to ramble upon topics so freely? Perhaps further research would be required, although, on second though, maybe such a move would not be the best move for now. It was only after he thought that she had finished speaking that he tried to broach the subject of her bizarre visitation.
“Yes, I am, as you said, a great and busy man, so if possible might we, perchance, speak about your reason for your visit, cousin?” He inquired, tipping the wine gobbled over his face so as to hide the soured expression on his face, replacing his rather bored look back to its more solemn and aloof one. He had hoped to get to the bottom of this meeting right there, but, as the Fates would have it, the Lady Ophelia once more jumped to another topic, once more frustrating Panos as he felt the furrows on his brow deepen. Surely, this had to be some sort of test. Otherwise, why would this most unusual of conversations be had? And yet, as he looked upon the Lady Ophelia, he came upon a thought. If she would not reveal her reason on her terms, then he would extract the secret from her by his engineering.
“Your words are high praise, Lady Ophelia. Come, wine and company of such good quality should not be spent upon sat chairs and stoned walls.” He invited in an authoritative, commanding tone, standing up from his desk, feeling the stretch of his legs after such prolonged time slouched against his workspace. His arm was outstretched so they could walk besides each other as etiquette demanded whenever those of high blood, but contrasting sexes, made through languid steps. Now on his feet, Panos revealed the full content of his appearance, garbed in fine robes of simple gold with a few black tones to it that denoted the colors of House Marikas. His footwork was noticeably light, subtly suggesting his preference for soft, almost untraceable footsteps. “Walk by me, Cousin. Let us judge these Thanasi gardens together."
It was just as he had noted. Her curtsy was low and graceful, her head bowed in reverence. Each movement was made with the utmost delicacy, for she knew that he must think Taengeans wild, and wished to prove him otherwise with her poise. The kiss she had placed upon his signet ring had lasted an appropriate length of time, and upon withdrawing she had made certain to give yet another bow of her head, shorter than her previous yet no less deferential.
Panos seemed to dislike her on sight. At least, that was the impression she received. His gaze seared her retinas and chilled her heart to its very core, yet she met his eyes bravely in return, her smile never once faltering despite going unreturned. He had accepted her basket -- that at least was a positive sign -- but he seemed to mislike her attempts at friendly conversation. This came as little shock to her, for she had been warned that he was a man who preferred to get straight down to business. Nevertheless, she had absolutely no intention of simply blurting out 'Are the rumours true? Have you been stealing Condos recipes?' That would not do at all. That would cause a disaster beyond even her wildest imaginings, of that she was quite certain. No, the best way to handle this was the way she knew, the way she was comfortable with. Perhaps she might even convince the fearsome Master to drop his guard. Some divine miracle might endear her to him, and they might part as civil acquaintances at the very least, if not even friends.
Her admission did nothing to pacify him. She noted the tightening of his lips with a feeling of dread, dark imaginings of what might be going through his mind swirling through her own. She had hoped that her candor would endear her to him. Had it instead made her seem weak and foolish? An easy picking for manipulation? A silly, green girl from a province of unschooled hedonists?
Likely so.
He seemed also hesitant to believe that she could possibly be in possession of a signet ring. He hid it well, his face an unreadable mask, but she did not miss the slightest hint of incredulity that flashed within his icy orbs. She felt the indignation rise like a flame within her heart, but doused it with the waters of humility. She was not here to plead for gender equality, nor to prove that her written word was just as valuable as that of any man. She was here for information. Still, she took note of his opinion, unspoken as it was, and a seed of dislike was planted in her heart.
As he spoke of his own ring, she bent forward once more to examine it, taking care not to intrude upon his personal space. "I do believe I recognize it, in fact," she mused, meeting his gaze with the slightest of smiles. Though he had said that he expected this of her, something in the back of her mind told her that this was a test, a challenge, one he expected her to fail. "It is an heirloom, is it not? Once belonging to Paris of Condos, it was gifted to Serafim of Marikas as a token of goodwill by his future son-in-law. I assume it has been passed down through the generations of your family, and that is how you come to possess it."
There, let him look down upon me now, she thought, though her face remained the epitome of warmth and friendliness. I am not as foolish as he believes. My warmth is my strength, his hard heart his weakness. As years pass, I shall be loved and he shall be lonely, and I will think back on this man, alone with his stylus and high ideals, and I shall pity him, for I have the compassion to do so.
Oh dear. He wanted to know the reason for her visit. This was the second time he had asked. She flicked her eyes nervously around the room, searching for any means of inspiration. Deciding finally that she would simply open her mouth and hope for the best, she found herself saying: "It seemed unbefitting that we both be in Colchis and I not make the acquaintance of a cousin I had yet to meet; I make it a point to acquaint myself with all my relatives, no matter how distant." This was the truth, she did make a point of doing this and she was glad she had remembered just in time. She had not been forced to lie. Her answer had been technically honest, she had simply omitted one key detail. But that was of no importance -- how many details did Panos omit in his conversations? How many secrets lay behind those steely eyes? Many, she suspected, but only one was of interest to her.
She took another sip of wine, trying to gauge of there were any similarities between this flavour and any of her family's own. There did not seem to be, but then again, it would be rather brazen of her host to serve her anything other than his family's blend. Suddenly he rose, addressing her in a civil but authoritative manner. His words were enticing, friendly even, yet his tone was subtly commanding. He appeared to be attempting friendliness though, so Ophelia beamed at him in return. It was not his fault that he had been given little opportunity to practise his social graces. Perhaps she had inspired him to try? She liked to think so.
Taking her lead from him, she rose to her feet. Without a moment of hesitation, she accepted his outstretched arm, stepping close to him so that they might walk astride. Now that he was standing, he was revealed in all his splendour. His flowing robes were of gold and black, a proud display of his house's colours. His footwork was light as a feather; much like her, he made barely a sound as he traversed the room. He was, as she had suspected, much taller than herself, towering over her in such a way that she appeared fragile and almost inconsequential, even though her jewels shone as brightly as her smile.
'Walk by me, Cousin, let us judge these Thanassi gardens together.' "It would be my honour," she replied demurely, her voice a blend of silk and honey. "Perhaps later I might have the pleasure of catching another glimpse of your owl? I found her to be very beautiful. Is she one of many?"
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It was just as he had noted. Her curtsy was low and graceful, her head bowed in reverence. Each movement was made with the utmost delicacy, for she knew that he must think Taengeans wild, and wished to prove him otherwise with her poise. The kiss she had placed upon his signet ring had lasted an appropriate length of time, and upon withdrawing she had made certain to give yet another bow of her head, shorter than her previous yet no less deferential.
Panos seemed to dislike her on sight. At least, that was the impression she received. His gaze seared her retinas and chilled her heart to its very core, yet she met his eyes bravely in return, her smile never once faltering despite going unreturned. He had accepted her basket -- that at least was a positive sign -- but he seemed to mislike her attempts at friendly conversation. This came as little shock to her, for she had been warned that he was a man who preferred to get straight down to business. Nevertheless, she had absolutely no intention of simply blurting out 'Are the rumours true? Have you been stealing Condos recipes?' That would not do at all. That would cause a disaster beyond even her wildest imaginings, of that she was quite certain. No, the best way to handle this was the way she knew, the way she was comfortable with. Perhaps she might even convince the fearsome Master to drop his guard. Some divine miracle might endear her to him, and they might part as civil acquaintances at the very least, if not even friends.
Her admission did nothing to pacify him. She noted the tightening of his lips with a feeling of dread, dark imaginings of what might be going through his mind swirling through her own. She had hoped that her candor would endear her to him. Had it instead made her seem weak and foolish? An easy picking for manipulation? A silly, green girl from a province of unschooled hedonists?
Likely so.
He seemed also hesitant to believe that she could possibly be in possession of a signet ring. He hid it well, his face an unreadable mask, but she did not miss the slightest hint of incredulity that flashed within his icy orbs. She felt the indignation rise like a flame within her heart, but doused it with the waters of humility. She was not here to plead for gender equality, nor to prove that her written word was just as valuable as that of any man. She was here for information. Still, she took note of his opinion, unspoken as it was, and a seed of dislike was planted in her heart.
As he spoke of his own ring, she bent forward once more to examine it, taking care not to intrude upon his personal space. "I do believe I recognize it, in fact," she mused, meeting his gaze with the slightest of smiles. Though he had said that he expected this of her, something in the back of her mind told her that this was a test, a challenge, one he expected her to fail. "It is an heirloom, is it not? Once belonging to Paris of Condos, it was gifted to Serafim of Marikas as a token of goodwill by his future son-in-law. I assume it has been passed down through the generations of your family, and that is how you come to possess it."
There, let him look down upon me now, she thought, though her face remained the epitome of warmth and friendliness. I am not as foolish as he believes. My warmth is my strength, his hard heart his weakness. As years pass, I shall be loved and he shall be lonely, and I will think back on this man, alone with his stylus and high ideals, and I shall pity him, for I have the compassion to do so.
Oh dear. He wanted to know the reason for her visit. This was the second time he had asked. She flicked her eyes nervously around the room, searching for any means of inspiration. Deciding finally that she would simply open her mouth and hope for the best, she found herself saying: "It seemed unbefitting that we both be in Colchis and I not make the acquaintance of a cousin I had yet to meet; I make it a point to acquaint myself with all my relatives, no matter how distant." This was the truth, she did make a point of doing this and she was glad she had remembered just in time. She had not been forced to lie. Her answer had been technically honest, she had simply omitted one key detail. But that was of no importance -- how many details did Panos omit in his conversations? How many secrets lay behind those steely eyes? Many, she suspected, but only one was of interest to her.
She took another sip of wine, trying to gauge of there were any similarities between this flavour and any of her family's own. There did not seem to be, but then again, it would be rather brazen of her host to serve her anything other than his family's blend. Suddenly he rose, addressing her in a civil but authoritative manner. His words were enticing, friendly even, yet his tone was subtly commanding. He appeared to be attempting friendliness though, so Ophelia beamed at him in return. It was not his fault that he had been given little opportunity to practise his social graces. Perhaps she had inspired him to try? She liked to think so.
Taking her lead from him, she rose to her feet. Without a moment of hesitation, she accepted his outstretched arm, stepping close to him so that they might walk astride. Now that he was standing, he was revealed in all his splendour. His flowing robes were of gold and black, a proud display of his house's colours. His footwork was light as a feather; much like her, he made barely a sound as he traversed the room. He was, as she had suspected, much taller than herself, towering over her in such a way that she appeared fragile and almost inconsequential, even though her jewels shone as brightly as her smile.
'Walk by me, Cousin, let us judge these Thanassi gardens together.' "It would be my honour," she replied demurely, her voice a blend of silk and honey. "Perhaps later I might have the pleasure of catching another glimpse of your owl? I found her to be very beautiful. Is she one of many?"
It was just as he had noted. Her curtsy was low and graceful, her head bowed in reverence. Each movement was made with the utmost delicacy, for she knew that he must think Taengeans wild, and wished to prove him otherwise with her poise. The kiss she had placed upon his signet ring had lasted an appropriate length of time, and upon withdrawing she had made certain to give yet another bow of her head, shorter than her previous yet no less deferential.
Panos seemed to dislike her on sight. At least, that was the impression she received. His gaze seared her retinas and chilled her heart to its very core, yet she met his eyes bravely in return, her smile never once faltering despite going unreturned. He had accepted her basket -- that at least was a positive sign -- but he seemed to mislike her attempts at friendly conversation. This came as little shock to her, for she had been warned that he was a man who preferred to get straight down to business. Nevertheless, she had absolutely no intention of simply blurting out 'Are the rumours true? Have you been stealing Condos recipes?' That would not do at all. That would cause a disaster beyond even her wildest imaginings, of that she was quite certain. No, the best way to handle this was the way she knew, the way she was comfortable with. Perhaps she might even convince the fearsome Master to drop his guard. Some divine miracle might endear her to him, and they might part as civil acquaintances at the very least, if not even friends.
Her admission did nothing to pacify him. She noted the tightening of his lips with a feeling of dread, dark imaginings of what might be going through his mind swirling through her own. She had hoped that her candor would endear her to him. Had it instead made her seem weak and foolish? An easy picking for manipulation? A silly, green girl from a province of unschooled hedonists?
Likely so.
He seemed also hesitant to believe that she could possibly be in possession of a signet ring. He hid it well, his face an unreadable mask, but she did not miss the slightest hint of incredulity that flashed within his icy orbs. She felt the indignation rise like a flame within her heart, but doused it with the waters of humility. She was not here to plead for gender equality, nor to prove that her written word was just as valuable as that of any man. She was here for information. Still, she took note of his opinion, unspoken as it was, and a seed of dislike was planted in her heart.
As he spoke of his own ring, she bent forward once more to examine it, taking care not to intrude upon his personal space. "I do believe I recognize it, in fact," she mused, meeting his gaze with the slightest of smiles. Though he had said that he expected this of her, something in the back of her mind told her that this was a test, a challenge, one he expected her to fail. "It is an heirloom, is it not? Once belonging to Paris of Condos, it was gifted to Serafim of Marikas as a token of goodwill by his future son-in-law. I assume it has been passed down through the generations of your family, and that is how you come to possess it."
There, let him look down upon me now, she thought, though her face remained the epitome of warmth and friendliness. I am not as foolish as he believes. My warmth is my strength, his hard heart his weakness. As years pass, I shall be loved and he shall be lonely, and I will think back on this man, alone with his stylus and high ideals, and I shall pity him, for I have the compassion to do so.
Oh dear. He wanted to know the reason for her visit. This was the second time he had asked. She flicked her eyes nervously around the room, searching for any means of inspiration. Deciding finally that she would simply open her mouth and hope for the best, she found herself saying: "It seemed unbefitting that we both be in Colchis and I not make the acquaintance of a cousin I had yet to meet; I make it a point to acquaint myself with all my relatives, no matter how distant." This was the truth, she did make a point of doing this and she was glad she had remembered just in time. She had not been forced to lie. Her answer had been technically honest, she had simply omitted one key detail. But that was of no importance -- how many details did Panos omit in his conversations? How many secrets lay behind those steely eyes? Many, she suspected, but only one was of interest to her.
She took another sip of wine, trying to gauge of there were any similarities between this flavour and any of her family's own. There did not seem to be, but then again, it would be rather brazen of her host to serve her anything other than his family's blend. Suddenly he rose, addressing her in a civil but authoritative manner. His words were enticing, friendly even, yet his tone was subtly commanding. He appeared to be attempting friendliness though, so Ophelia beamed at him in return. It was not his fault that he had been given little opportunity to practise his social graces. Perhaps she had inspired him to try? She liked to think so.
Taking her lead from him, she rose to her feet. Without a moment of hesitation, she accepted his outstretched arm, stepping close to him so that they might walk astride. Now that he was standing, he was revealed in all his splendour. His flowing robes were of gold and black, a proud display of his house's colours. His footwork was light as a feather; much like her, he made barely a sound as he traversed the room. He was, as she had suspected, much taller than herself, towering over her in such a way that she appeared fragile and almost inconsequential, even though her jewels shone as brightly as her smile.
'Walk by me, Cousin, let us judge these Thanassi gardens together.' "It would be my honour," she replied demurely, her voice a blend of silk and honey. "Perhaps later I might have the pleasure of catching another glimpse of your owl? I found her to be very beautiful. Is she one of many?"
Perhaps, for most, the poise, gaity and speech pattern of Ophelia would be acceptable, and, at face value, he would surmise that they were, but, as his frigid, almost soulless eyes kept watch over her he delved deeper still, studying her with almost academic inquisitiveness as he observed her and decided not to treat her as someone who had bothered him, which she had, but rather, as a puzzle to study, to learn. He saw how she used warm-words to entice closeness, a clever strategy he supposed, and he saw how she turned unto him in an effort to see if he would speak about his House in terms boastful and prideful, a trick he had used before in an effort to lure others into revealing their innermost intentions, but he would not fall for either. Perhaps, he had judged this woman wrongly, cast her into dismissal due to her fragrant disregard for etiquettes and manners. It was almost too brash, too bold, too informal. And that is when he first detected it….
Fear…
Yes, that was what the Lady of Condos had tried to shy away from. Her speech was long and drawn-out, a clear sign of uneasiness. He saw the way that she jumped around topics and conversations, never maintaining one for long, as if too afraid to truly explore an actual topic in its entirety. Perhaps, he was looking too into it, and had given her far more credit than it was due, but, he had not ruled the Marikas for decades by ignoring his instincts. Instead, he kept his close study of the brunette woman with the certainty of metal, but the curiosity of a scholar. He was convinced that she was nervous, but whether it was through his own persona, or her own struggles to keep up appearances in the now was still a mystery to him. Further research into this would surely be needed, but for now, he kept his meticulous analysis of what Ophelia was, and who she purported to be, all to himself.
It seemed however that the Lady Ophelia had not been as insightful as he had hoped. Her mannerisms and way of speaking indicated that she wanted to perhaps portray herself as merely amicable and friendly, a position that would be backed-upped by her smiles and long-winded speeches. Yet, then she showed accurate, almost perfect grasp of courtly history and information, betraying her intelligence. Outwardly, Panos assumed, she wanted to appear approachable, but inwardly, she was far more well-versed in courtly intrigue than she let on, the mark of an experienced charmer. Poor, foolish Lady Ophelia. He saw right through her then. Had she not show such masterful skill in history, maybe he would not have suspected so much from her. Yet, there was such strong accuracy in her words that the Lawgiver could not help but surmise that she had studied him, all done for a goal, an objective. He did not know what this was, but he could detect that, beneath her words of kinship and familiar bonds, their lied an intentionality that could not be denied.
“Cousin, you honor me with your knowledge. Forgive me, but it seems that you know so much about me, and yet, I know so little about you.” He said, luring the Taengean so as to get her to talk about herself and pivot attention unto her, not him. This invitation to discussion was not one he desired, for he wished to be left to the intimacy of his work and study, but, if he was to play this little game of theirs, then he would play along for now. Yet, he was not going to give the Taengean, fair and perhaps more secretly intelligent than she appeared, the upper-hand. She had spoken at great length before about jewelry, and of Colchian aesthetics. What had she said? Ah, yes, Arcanaes, that land of gold and opportunity that he had read about on his journey to the Kirakles Isles. It was a Thanasi barony, one owned by his current hosts. He noticed how her eyes had beamed before whence speaking about it, and this stirred from within him a thought, one that further would lure the Condos royal away from him, but not without learning about her.
“Your eye for good taste reminds me of the ladyfolk of my family.” He said, a more outwardly friendly demeanor across his stiff features. Their was a tone of welcomeness to it, as if he was saying that she was worthy of compare to the Marikas. Truthfully, he did not believe this at all, for none was worthy of the honor and dignity of his line, but if others were said to be like his own, then surely they would feel honored and elevated, which was just what Panos had desired at this time, so as to get Ophelia to feel more respected and appreciated in her standing. To be so favorably compared to the prestigious line of kings of Athenia would inspire almost anyone to a blush. And this was what Panos was counting on, for he figured that if their was one family that longed for recognition, it would be House Condos, the family that was infamous for being the bridesmaid, never the bride of Taengea. “I could not agree more cousin. Alas, my time is limited. Perhaps however, you could spend time with my granddaughter Agathe? I've heard Arcanaes is a lovely province, and you two seem to have similar tastes." His smile was forced, but somewhat grandfatherly, like the one that would appear on an experienced teacher who had just imported wisdom upon his student.
If there was one woman in his family whom he could trust to be good at attaining information, it was Agathe. She was well-versed in intrigue and manners, though she perhaps did not appreciate that. It did not matter, she would be close to age to Ophelia and would be able to keep gaining secrets from the Taengean without having to take away form his own time. Besides, assigning her to this little act of espionage would keep her away from one of the military men of Colchis that perhaps she had ogled on her way to the Thanasi estate. As he finished his words, he continued to walk stealthily through the corridors, observing the shrubbery with apparent interest. “Tell me Cousin, what interests you? Who is Ophelia of Condos?” It was a simple question. He did not wish to spend more time with the woman, but if he turned the conversation about her, she would not get anything from him, and then, at a more appropriate time, ask to be removed so as to return to his work. Unexpectedly however, the conversation seemed to jump again, now unto his owls? Inwardly, he thought this random and disingenuous, but perhaps it was an effort to see him soften towards her. It would not hurt to be kind however, so perhaps there was no problem with acceding to her somewhat odd request. “Yes, I keep many in my care. I’ve but a few here, for most are in my home, but if you so wish you may appreciate her whence she returns?”
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Perhaps, for most, the poise, gaity and speech pattern of Ophelia would be acceptable, and, at face value, he would surmise that they were, but, as his frigid, almost soulless eyes kept watch over her he delved deeper still, studying her with almost academic inquisitiveness as he observed her and decided not to treat her as someone who had bothered him, which she had, but rather, as a puzzle to study, to learn. He saw how she used warm-words to entice closeness, a clever strategy he supposed, and he saw how she turned unto him in an effort to see if he would speak about his House in terms boastful and prideful, a trick he had used before in an effort to lure others into revealing their innermost intentions, but he would not fall for either. Perhaps, he had judged this woman wrongly, cast her into dismissal due to her fragrant disregard for etiquettes and manners. It was almost too brash, too bold, too informal. And that is when he first detected it….
Fear…
Yes, that was what the Lady of Condos had tried to shy away from. Her speech was long and drawn-out, a clear sign of uneasiness. He saw the way that she jumped around topics and conversations, never maintaining one for long, as if too afraid to truly explore an actual topic in its entirety. Perhaps, he was looking too into it, and had given her far more credit than it was due, but, he had not ruled the Marikas for decades by ignoring his instincts. Instead, he kept his close study of the brunette woman with the certainty of metal, but the curiosity of a scholar. He was convinced that she was nervous, but whether it was through his own persona, or her own struggles to keep up appearances in the now was still a mystery to him. Further research into this would surely be needed, but for now, he kept his meticulous analysis of what Ophelia was, and who she purported to be, all to himself.
It seemed however that the Lady Ophelia had not been as insightful as he had hoped. Her mannerisms and way of speaking indicated that she wanted to perhaps portray herself as merely amicable and friendly, a position that would be backed-upped by her smiles and long-winded speeches. Yet, then she showed accurate, almost perfect grasp of courtly history and information, betraying her intelligence. Outwardly, Panos assumed, she wanted to appear approachable, but inwardly, she was far more well-versed in courtly intrigue than she let on, the mark of an experienced charmer. Poor, foolish Lady Ophelia. He saw right through her then. Had she not show such masterful skill in history, maybe he would not have suspected so much from her. Yet, there was such strong accuracy in her words that the Lawgiver could not help but surmise that she had studied him, all done for a goal, an objective. He did not know what this was, but he could detect that, beneath her words of kinship and familiar bonds, their lied an intentionality that could not be denied.
“Cousin, you honor me with your knowledge. Forgive me, but it seems that you know so much about me, and yet, I know so little about you.” He said, luring the Taengean so as to get her to talk about herself and pivot attention unto her, not him. This invitation to discussion was not one he desired, for he wished to be left to the intimacy of his work and study, but, if he was to play this little game of theirs, then he would play along for now. Yet, he was not going to give the Taengean, fair and perhaps more secretly intelligent than she appeared, the upper-hand. She had spoken at great length before about jewelry, and of Colchian aesthetics. What had she said? Ah, yes, Arcanaes, that land of gold and opportunity that he had read about on his journey to the Kirakles Isles. It was a Thanasi barony, one owned by his current hosts. He noticed how her eyes had beamed before whence speaking about it, and this stirred from within him a thought, one that further would lure the Condos royal away from him, but not without learning about her.
“Your eye for good taste reminds me of the ladyfolk of my family.” He said, a more outwardly friendly demeanor across his stiff features. Their was a tone of welcomeness to it, as if he was saying that she was worthy of compare to the Marikas. Truthfully, he did not believe this at all, for none was worthy of the honor and dignity of his line, but if others were said to be like his own, then surely they would feel honored and elevated, which was just what Panos had desired at this time, so as to get Ophelia to feel more respected and appreciated in her standing. To be so favorably compared to the prestigious line of kings of Athenia would inspire almost anyone to a blush. And this was what Panos was counting on, for he figured that if their was one family that longed for recognition, it would be House Condos, the family that was infamous for being the bridesmaid, never the bride of Taengea. “I could not agree more cousin. Alas, my time is limited. Perhaps however, you could spend time with my granddaughter Agathe? I've heard Arcanaes is a lovely province, and you two seem to have similar tastes." His smile was forced, but somewhat grandfatherly, like the one that would appear on an experienced teacher who had just imported wisdom upon his student.
If there was one woman in his family whom he could trust to be good at attaining information, it was Agathe. She was well-versed in intrigue and manners, though she perhaps did not appreciate that. It did not matter, she would be close to age to Ophelia and would be able to keep gaining secrets from the Taengean without having to take away form his own time. Besides, assigning her to this little act of espionage would keep her away from one of the military men of Colchis that perhaps she had ogled on her way to the Thanasi estate. As he finished his words, he continued to walk stealthily through the corridors, observing the shrubbery with apparent interest. “Tell me Cousin, what interests you? Who is Ophelia of Condos?” It was a simple question. He did not wish to spend more time with the woman, but if he turned the conversation about her, she would not get anything from him, and then, at a more appropriate time, ask to be removed so as to return to his work. Unexpectedly however, the conversation seemed to jump again, now unto his owls? Inwardly, he thought this random and disingenuous, but perhaps it was an effort to see him soften towards her. It would not hurt to be kind however, so perhaps there was no problem with acceding to her somewhat odd request. “Yes, I keep many in my care. I’ve but a few here, for most are in my home, but if you so wish you may appreciate her whence she returns?”
Perhaps, for most, the poise, gaity and speech pattern of Ophelia would be acceptable, and, at face value, he would surmise that they were, but, as his frigid, almost soulless eyes kept watch over her he delved deeper still, studying her with almost academic inquisitiveness as he observed her and decided not to treat her as someone who had bothered him, which she had, but rather, as a puzzle to study, to learn. He saw how she used warm-words to entice closeness, a clever strategy he supposed, and he saw how she turned unto him in an effort to see if he would speak about his House in terms boastful and prideful, a trick he had used before in an effort to lure others into revealing their innermost intentions, but he would not fall for either. Perhaps, he had judged this woman wrongly, cast her into dismissal due to her fragrant disregard for etiquettes and manners. It was almost too brash, too bold, too informal. And that is when he first detected it….
Fear…
Yes, that was what the Lady of Condos had tried to shy away from. Her speech was long and drawn-out, a clear sign of uneasiness. He saw the way that she jumped around topics and conversations, never maintaining one for long, as if too afraid to truly explore an actual topic in its entirety. Perhaps, he was looking too into it, and had given her far more credit than it was due, but, he had not ruled the Marikas for decades by ignoring his instincts. Instead, he kept his close study of the brunette woman with the certainty of metal, but the curiosity of a scholar. He was convinced that she was nervous, but whether it was through his own persona, or her own struggles to keep up appearances in the now was still a mystery to him. Further research into this would surely be needed, but for now, he kept his meticulous analysis of what Ophelia was, and who she purported to be, all to himself.
It seemed however that the Lady Ophelia had not been as insightful as he had hoped. Her mannerisms and way of speaking indicated that she wanted to perhaps portray herself as merely amicable and friendly, a position that would be backed-upped by her smiles and long-winded speeches. Yet, then she showed accurate, almost perfect grasp of courtly history and information, betraying her intelligence. Outwardly, Panos assumed, she wanted to appear approachable, but inwardly, she was far more well-versed in courtly intrigue than she let on, the mark of an experienced charmer. Poor, foolish Lady Ophelia. He saw right through her then. Had she not show such masterful skill in history, maybe he would not have suspected so much from her. Yet, there was such strong accuracy in her words that the Lawgiver could not help but surmise that she had studied him, all done for a goal, an objective. He did not know what this was, but he could detect that, beneath her words of kinship and familiar bonds, their lied an intentionality that could not be denied.
“Cousin, you honor me with your knowledge. Forgive me, but it seems that you know so much about me, and yet, I know so little about you.” He said, luring the Taengean so as to get her to talk about herself and pivot attention unto her, not him. This invitation to discussion was not one he desired, for he wished to be left to the intimacy of his work and study, but, if he was to play this little game of theirs, then he would play along for now. Yet, he was not going to give the Taengean, fair and perhaps more secretly intelligent than she appeared, the upper-hand. She had spoken at great length before about jewelry, and of Colchian aesthetics. What had she said? Ah, yes, Arcanaes, that land of gold and opportunity that he had read about on his journey to the Kirakles Isles. It was a Thanasi barony, one owned by his current hosts. He noticed how her eyes had beamed before whence speaking about it, and this stirred from within him a thought, one that further would lure the Condos royal away from him, but not without learning about her.
“Your eye for good taste reminds me of the ladyfolk of my family.” He said, a more outwardly friendly demeanor across his stiff features. Their was a tone of welcomeness to it, as if he was saying that she was worthy of compare to the Marikas. Truthfully, he did not believe this at all, for none was worthy of the honor and dignity of his line, but if others were said to be like his own, then surely they would feel honored and elevated, which was just what Panos had desired at this time, so as to get Ophelia to feel more respected and appreciated in her standing. To be so favorably compared to the prestigious line of kings of Athenia would inspire almost anyone to a blush. And this was what Panos was counting on, for he figured that if their was one family that longed for recognition, it would be House Condos, the family that was infamous for being the bridesmaid, never the bride of Taengea. “I could not agree more cousin. Alas, my time is limited. Perhaps however, you could spend time with my granddaughter Agathe? I've heard Arcanaes is a lovely province, and you two seem to have similar tastes." His smile was forced, but somewhat grandfatherly, like the one that would appear on an experienced teacher who had just imported wisdom upon his student.
If there was one woman in his family whom he could trust to be good at attaining information, it was Agathe. She was well-versed in intrigue and manners, though she perhaps did not appreciate that. It did not matter, she would be close to age to Ophelia and would be able to keep gaining secrets from the Taengean without having to take away form his own time. Besides, assigning her to this little act of espionage would keep her away from one of the military men of Colchis that perhaps she had ogled on her way to the Thanasi estate. As he finished his words, he continued to walk stealthily through the corridors, observing the shrubbery with apparent interest. “Tell me Cousin, what interests you? Who is Ophelia of Condos?” It was a simple question. He did not wish to spend more time with the woman, but if he turned the conversation about her, she would not get anything from him, and then, at a more appropriate time, ask to be removed so as to return to his work. Unexpectedly however, the conversation seemed to jump again, now unto his owls? Inwardly, he thought this random and disingenuous, but perhaps it was an effort to see him soften towards her. It would not hurt to be kind however, so perhaps there was no problem with acceding to her somewhat odd request. “Yes, I keep many in my care. I’ve but a few here, for most are in my home, but if you so wish you may appreciate her whence she returns?”
Thank the Gods. The knowledge had come back to her, and she had recalled without issue the origin of the ring. Thanks to her patron Goddess, Athena, she had spoken with perfect clarity upon the subject. Of course, Athena had not planted the knowledge there, but watered the seed of her own intellect. Panos was right to think her intelligent, for she took great interest in academia, and like a sponge her mind soaked up the knowledge. Many underestimated her intelligence, but they wrong to do so, for she knew much, and could prove it if given the chance. He was also right in believing that she wished to appear amicable, but not in the way that he thought. She did wish to appear so, she simply was. Kindness came as naturally to the Condos Rose as breathing. Only when under attack did her bright smile curdle and the hidden blades slide from within her silver tongue.
Though her father had sent her here for what was, in her mind, a less than honourable purpose given the nature of this celebration, she had always wished to meet this great man, and would probably have come on her own account if she had not been sent. Now that she was here, she was determined to prove his innocence, but she knew that doing so without revealing the reason for her visit would be incredibly difficult. Still, she was determined not to let him know why she had not come -- she would not insult him in that manner. But the awkwardness of the situation, coupled with the formidable nature of the man she found herself facing, unnerved the Taengean Rose, and so she found herself jumping like a frog from one subject to another, like a bee from flower to flower, praying to taste the sweet nectar of victory. Victory -- victory, in this case, being solid proof that the man knew nothing of the Condos family secrets.
Cousin, you honor me with your knowledge,' his words were like sweet music to her ears. She drank them in eagerly, her sweet smile broadening. She had so hoped to impress him and it seemed that finally she had. 'Forgive me, but it seems that you know so much about me, and yet, I know so little about you.'
"Master Panos, you flatter me, though I truly know not what to say; I am rather a simple woman," the maiden replied humbly, bowing her head to her cousin. "However, I shall indulge your curiosity. I enjoy hunting, and often donate the creatures I hunt to the poor. I do a lot of work with the less fortunate. I am a devout follower of the Gods, particularly the Goddess Athena. I am a seeker of knowledge. Though a simple woman, I am very fond of learning, as well as the arts. Many say you have a great mind, and so I have always admired you."
'Your eye for good taste reminds me of the ladyfolk of my family,' he told her, his demeanour more than pleasing. Ophelia's heart swelled with joy at his words and the tone in which they were delivered. That approving manner made her soul sing with happiness. She was not unaware of the great honour he was doing her, for she knew how proud he was of his family. To imply that she was worthy of being favourably compared to his kinfolk was no small matter.
He explained that his time was limited, but graciously offered her the company of his granddaughter, Agathe. He seemed to think that they would get along, for they had similar tastes. And according to him, Arcanaes was a lovely province. She was more than willing to take his word for it, and more than willing to accept his offer of a meeting with Agathe.
"You do me great honour, Master Panos, to say that my taste is comparable to that of your feminine kin, for I have always admired the fine manner in which they present themselves, not only in dress but in manner. Their deportation is second to none. It would a pleasure and privilege to spend time with your charming granddaughter, just as it has been to meet you."
As they wandered through the gardens, the Lady took in the picturesque scenery, smiling softly as a butterfly with wings in shades of purple fluttered from one shrub to another. "Oh, what a beautiful creature..." she breathed, before turning her full attention back to the Marikas, noting his grandfatherly smile and returning it instantly. 'Tell me Cousin, what interests you? Who is Ophelia of Condos?' he questioned. Ophelia thought for a moment, hoping her answer would not bore or displease him. "Well, I am very fond of making music and painting. I teach the local children about the Gods, and I have taught the more intellectual ones to read and write. My father has given me access to his Library, and recommends philosophers he believes are appropriate. I am also a lover of astronomy, and any scientific theory. The discoveries being made nowadays are truly remarkable," colour crept across her cheeks as she spoke of her academic pursuits. Vaguely, she wondered if the Head of House Marikas would think her foolish, or her scholarly endeavours a waste of time. "Of course, I know how to run a household," she assured him. "I shall be ready when my time to marry comes, but I do hope I will still have tome to read on occasion."
Oh, good! He had taken to the subject of the owls! Ophelia's eyes lit up with genuine interest and glee as she hung on the man's every word. She was delighted to hear that there was not just one, but many. She nodded eagerly at his offer, deciding it best to explain herself so that he did not think the request so random. "I have always adored owls. Athena is my patron Goddess, and I have always found them to be such intelligent and majestic creatures. I observe them from my window in the evenings, they are so elegant in flight. I have always loved your house's sigil. May I ask what her name is?"
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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Thank the Gods. The knowledge had come back to her, and she had recalled without issue the origin of the ring. Thanks to her patron Goddess, Athena, she had spoken with perfect clarity upon the subject. Of course, Athena had not planted the knowledge there, but watered the seed of her own intellect. Panos was right to think her intelligent, for she took great interest in academia, and like a sponge her mind soaked up the knowledge. Many underestimated her intelligence, but they wrong to do so, for she knew much, and could prove it if given the chance. He was also right in believing that she wished to appear amicable, but not in the way that he thought. She did wish to appear so, she simply was. Kindness came as naturally to the Condos Rose as breathing. Only when under attack did her bright smile curdle and the hidden blades slide from within her silver tongue.
Though her father had sent her here for what was, in her mind, a less than honourable purpose given the nature of this celebration, she had always wished to meet this great man, and would probably have come on her own account if she had not been sent. Now that she was here, she was determined to prove his innocence, but she knew that doing so without revealing the reason for her visit would be incredibly difficult. Still, she was determined not to let him know why she had not come -- she would not insult him in that manner. But the awkwardness of the situation, coupled with the formidable nature of the man she found herself facing, unnerved the Taengean Rose, and so she found herself jumping like a frog from one subject to another, like a bee from flower to flower, praying to taste the sweet nectar of victory. Victory -- victory, in this case, being solid proof that the man knew nothing of the Condos family secrets.
Cousin, you honor me with your knowledge,' his words were like sweet music to her ears. She drank them in eagerly, her sweet smile broadening. She had so hoped to impress him and it seemed that finally she had. 'Forgive me, but it seems that you know so much about me, and yet, I know so little about you.'
"Master Panos, you flatter me, though I truly know not what to say; I am rather a simple woman," the maiden replied humbly, bowing her head to her cousin. "However, I shall indulge your curiosity. I enjoy hunting, and often donate the creatures I hunt to the poor. I do a lot of work with the less fortunate. I am a devout follower of the Gods, particularly the Goddess Athena. I am a seeker of knowledge. Though a simple woman, I am very fond of learning, as well as the arts. Many say you have a great mind, and so I have always admired you."
'Your eye for good taste reminds me of the ladyfolk of my family,' he told her, his demeanour more than pleasing. Ophelia's heart swelled with joy at his words and the tone in which they were delivered. That approving manner made her soul sing with happiness. She was not unaware of the great honour he was doing her, for she knew how proud he was of his family. To imply that she was worthy of being favourably compared to his kinfolk was no small matter.
He explained that his time was limited, but graciously offered her the company of his granddaughter, Agathe. He seemed to think that they would get along, for they had similar tastes. And according to him, Arcanaes was a lovely province. She was more than willing to take his word for it, and more than willing to accept his offer of a meeting with Agathe.
"You do me great honour, Master Panos, to say that my taste is comparable to that of your feminine kin, for I have always admired the fine manner in which they present themselves, not only in dress but in manner. Their deportation is second to none. It would a pleasure and privilege to spend time with your charming granddaughter, just as it has been to meet you."
As they wandered through the gardens, the Lady took in the picturesque scenery, smiling softly as a butterfly with wings in shades of purple fluttered from one shrub to another. "Oh, what a beautiful creature..." she breathed, before turning her full attention back to the Marikas, noting his grandfatherly smile and returning it instantly. 'Tell me Cousin, what interests you? Who is Ophelia of Condos?' he questioned. Ophelia thought for a moment, hoping her answer would not bore or displease him. "Well, I am very fond of making music and painting. I teach the local children about the Gods, and I have taught the more intellectual ones to read and write. My father has given me access to his Library, and recommends philosophers he believes are appropriate. I am also a lover of astronomy, and any scientific theory. The discoveries being made nowadays are truly remarkable," colour crept across her cheeks as she spoke of her academic pursuits. Vaguely, she wondered if the Head of House Marikas would think her foolish, or her scholarly endeavours a waste of time. "Of course, I know how to run a household," she assured him. "I shall be ready when my time to marry comes, but I do hope I will still have tome to read on occasion."
Oh, good! He had taken to the subject of the owls! Ophelia's eyes lit up with genuine interest and glee as she hung on the man's every word. She was delighted to hear that there was not just one, but many. She nodded eagerly at his offer, deciding it best to explain herself so that he did not think the request so random. "I have always adored owls. Athena is my patron Goddess, and I have always found them to be such intelligent and majestic creatures. I observe them from my window in the evenings, they are so elegant in flight. I have always loved your house's sigil. May I ask what her name is?"
Thank the Gods. The knowledge had come back to her, and she had recalled without issue the origin of the ring. Thanks to her patron Goddess, Athena, she had spoken with perfect clarity upon the subject. Of course, Athena had not planted the knowledge there, but watered the seed of her own intellect. Panos was right to think her intelligent, for she took great interest in academia, and like a sponge her mind soaked up the knowledge. Many underestimated her intelligence, but they wrong to do so, for she knew much, and could prove it if given the chance. He was also right in believing that she wished to appear amicable, but not in the way that he thought. She did wish to appear so, she simply was. Kindness came as naturally to the Condos Rose as breathing. Only when under attack did her bright smile curdle and the hidden blades slide from within her silver tongue.
Though her father had sent her here for what was, in her mind, a less than honourable purpose given the nature of this celebration, she had always wished to meet this great man, and would probably have come on her own account if she had not been sent. Now that she was here, she was determined to prove his innocence, but she knew that doing so without revealing the reason for her visit would be incredibly difficult. Still, she was determined not to let him know why she had not come -- she would not insult him in that manner. But the awkwardness of the situation, coupled with the formidable nature of the man she found herself facing, unnerved the Taengean Rose, and so she found herself jumping like a frog from one subject to another, like a bee from flower to flower, praying to taste the sweet nectar of victory. Victory -- victory, in this case, being solid proof that the man knew nothing of the Condos family secrets.
Cousin, you honor me with your knowledge,' his words were like sweet music to her ears. She drank them in eagerly, her sweet smile broadening. She had so hoped to impress him and it seemed that finally she had. 'Forgive me, but it seems that you know so much about me, and yet, I know so little about you.'
"Master Panos, you flatter me, though I truly know not what to say; I am rather a simple woman," the maiden replied humbly, bowing her head to her cousin. "However, I shall indulge your curiosity. I enjoy hunting, and often donate the creatures I hunt to the poor. I do a lot of work with the less fortunate. I am a devout follower of the Gods, particularly the Goddess Athena. I am a seeker of knowledge. Though a simple woman, I am very fond of learning, as well as the arts. Many say you have a great mind, and so I have always admired you."
'Your eye for good taste reminds me of the ladyfolk of my family,' he told her, his demeanour more than pleasing. Ophelia's heart swelled with joy at his words and the tone in which they were delivered. That approving manner made her soul sing with happiness. She was not unaware of the great honour he was doing her, for she knew how proud he was of his family. To imply that she was worthy of being favourably compared to his kinfolk was no small matter.
He explained that his time was limited, but graciously offered her the company of his granddaughter, Agathe. He seemed to think that they would get along, for they had similar tastes. And according to him, Arcanaes was a lovely province. She was more than willing to take his word for it, and more than willing to accept his offer of a meeting with Agathe.
"You do me great honour, Master Panos, to say that my taste is comparable to that of your feminine kin, for I have always admired the fine manner in which they present themselves, not only in dress but in manner. Their deportation is second to none. It would a pleasure and privilege to spend time with your charming granddaughter, just as it has been to meet you."
As they wandered through the gardens, the Lady took in the picturesque scenery, smiling softly as a butterfly with wings in shades of purple fluttered from one shrub to another. "Oh, what a beautiful creature..." she breathed, before turning her full attention back to the Marikas, noting his grandfatherly smile and returning it instantly. 'Tell me Cousin, what interests you? Who is Ophelia of Condos?' he questioned. Ophelia thought for a moment, hoping her answer would not bore or displease him. "Well, I am very fond of making music and painting. I teach the local children about the Gods, and I have taught the more intellectual ones to read and write. My father has given me access to his Library, and recommends philosophers he believes are appropriate. I am also a lover of astronomy, and any scientific theory. The discoveries being made nowadays are truly remarkable," colour crept across her cheeks as she spoke of her academic pursuits. Vaguely, she wondered if the Head of House Marikas would think her foolish, or her scholarly endeavours a waste of time. "Of course, I know how to run a household," she assured him. "I shall be ready when my time to marry comes, but I do hope I will still have tome to read on occasion."
Oh, good! He had taken to the subject of the owls! Ophelia's eyes lit up with genuine interest and glee as she hung on the man's every word. She was delighted to hear that there was not just one, but many. She nodded eagerly at his offer, deciding it best to explain herself so that he did not think the request so random. "I have always adored owls. Athena is my patron Goddess, and I have always found them to be such intelligent and majestic creatures. I observe them from my window in the evenings, they are so elegant in flight. I have always loved your house's sigil. May I ask what her name is?"
