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The day had not started particularly well, which was a shame because the previous night had been so delightful. Mihail had brought home some gaunt-faced yet handsome blonde (Eugenios, as it turned out, though names had not been exchanged at first) who had been glad to share his bed for the night but had not pleased as much as expected from his fervent promises. When they awoke the next morning, he had been pushed from the bed with distaste because his prolonged presence was certainly not desired (he was already overstaying his welcome by sleeping over, in truth, but Mihail had been too distracted by wine and opium to complain at that point), and then the day had inexplicably and immediately only managed to worsen.
He had stretched arms above his head and pulled himself to a more seated position, reaching expectantly for the usual plate of honeyed quince that had always sat beside his bed in the mornings, only to find that it was not there. This, of course, was thoroughly unacceptable, for he was comfortably used to the reality that there was always going to be quince there when he wanted quince there, and the idea of things not being the way he wanted seemed hugely unfair when he had grown accustomed to it. Thus, a protest would have to be made, and the staff did not tend to do well when the youngest Thanasi complained.
The exterior hallway was empty when Mihail finally appeared, dressed already in his archery clothing although he had not eaten as usual (perhaps it was fortunate that his appetite had never been so excessive that he was hugely affected by the lack of a meal, if irritated) and instead relied on the fruits left over in his daily bowl, though he was not so keen on grapes nor pomegranates as he was his quince. He padded gently out to the hall — he had rather recently purchased some distantly imported fur-lined slippers that so dearly silenced his movements outside of the comfort they provided — leaning against the entry to his chambers as he tended to do whenever he wished to capture the attention of a passing servant and Paris was inexplicably not present to complete the task himself. It did not take long for one to appear, for though it was a traditionally quiet household, there was almost always some stray staff member running from place to place for whatever reason.
“You,” he demanded, snapping in the direction of the man though he appeared otherwise preoccupied by his current task of maneuvering some great pile of scrolls from one end of the house to another in the not-quite brightness of early morning. His name was Ioannes or some variation of such, though Mihail did not find himself especially interested when the staff were so easily replaced. “Quince?”
His response was of the sort one might expect when they had known this subject to be coming and yet hoped regardless that it would not. A stumbled step and several scrolls dropped to unfurl dramatically on the ground, which he hurried to collect without mistakenly offending the Thanasi. ‘The quince, my Lord, uh, yes. We…’ This seemed an undue pause, likely influenced by the pointed manner in which Mihail had chosen to glare at him. ‘...due to the current shortages, we did not receive our last shipment of quince and, unfortunately, we have none left in the kitchens until...until it arrives. I apologise for any inconvenience, but it should hopefully arrive in the next fe—’
“Fix it today,” Mihail replied, waving a hand to silence the man before he said anything else that failed to excuse the situation, thoroughly bored by the words because they were not what he wanted to hear. His gaze drifted down to find one of the stray strolls that had come to rest by his foot, and he absent-mindedly kicked it away in the opposite direction of the pair of them, no matter how inconvenient this might have proved for Ioannes as it slowly unfurled its way down the hall. “And do ensure my fruit is unaffected, lest you wish to become my archery practice.” Honestly, the staff needed to start working on being a thousand times less incompetent when their jobs were truly not all that difficult.
Yet by the time the man had returned from his archery several hours later, the situation was still not resolved. At least, there was no evidence of quince brought up to await him after his bath, and his fruit bowl had not been refilled even though all the staff were fully aware that was the daily expectation on pain of death. It seemed highly unacceptable: perhaps the poor should have been affected by the kingdom’s troubles, but he was not one of them, and arrangements should have been made to ensure that there was no chance the upper classes would suffer.
He did not especially like to get his hands dirty, so to speak, given how much effort he put into maintaining his perfect manicures. Nonetheless, Mihail was far from unintelligent, and he knew full well when he had to take things into his own hands.
Besides, he wanted to go shopping.
Many years ago, the youngest Thanasi had made rather a fuss over the looks of a certain Taengean prince, and had requested in his typically unabashed manner that his sisters allow him to have a man of the same calibre of looks with whom he could do all those things that he might never manage with the prince in question (though one should never say never, for Mihail was perfectly aware of his ability to entice other men into dirty deeds). The result of this begging was a gorgeous new guard inducted into the Thanasi household who both rather coincidentally and ironically went by the name of Adonis, and who, in the past six years, had certainly been used for far more than the assigned purpose. Still, despite his value as such, Mihail did appreciate his worth as a guard, and it was he that was primarily chosen to attend him on trips into the city.
“This is pretty enough, yes?” he had questioned the man, whom he had summoned early to his chambers for the benefit of admiring his handsome features while he finished dressing, spinning slightly from side to side so that the excess fabric of his scarlet chiton would flare around him with the movement and highlight the tinkling sound produced by the metallic beading sewn into it (and matched beautifully with similar decorations in his hair). In truth, Mihail did not need the confirmation of his outfit, but he liked the compliments and general expressions of disbelief. “Or should I add the cuffs?” They were cute golden arm cuffs with sparkling red gemstones for eyes that matched the ones on his ears, and he only asked out of a false politeness when he knew full well he intended to wear them.
‘I don’t really think this is—’
“Yes, I agree. They do rather complement the aesthetic.” He slipped the jewellery on, hesitating a moment to admire the look of it in the polished silver of the mirror. “I am ready to leave. Oh, and if you could prevent excessive proximity, I would appreciate it because I do not particularly care for this outfit to be ruined by somebody putting their filthy hands where they do not belong.” Mihail gestured vaguely in the direction of the small chest where he tended to store his allowance to indicate that Adonis should select some quantity for their trip, then paused to wipe some excess rouge from his cheekbone (imagine the embarrassment of a misplaced smudge!) before directing himself out of the room.
Adonis was directed to trail ceremoniously a few feet away as Mihail passed through the streets, making his way down to the lower levels where the market could be found on most days. He preferred to go without the carriage, if solely because he enjoyed the solitude — guard regardless — of walking and, besides, it was impossible to appreciate his outfits if he was trapped inside an ugly carriage. The streets were far more crowded than was usual, though that was no surprise when the people were in a frenzy for whatever drama tended to upset the lower classes. There were even more horrid beggars around than usual too, and beggars certainly constituted Mihail’s absolute least favourite kind of person. His guard, at least, was excessively competent, giving nearly everybody who passed the appropriate death-glare that stopped them from stepping too close to his charge, which was rather necessary when somebody had chosen today in particular to drip in precious metals down to the criss-crossed straps of their sandals.
Still, he snaked easily through the streets, directing himself to the area of the market occupied by those fabric merchants that tended to have all his favourite things (bar those for which he had to organise the import personally). Many of them were not present today, affected awfully by the shame shortages that were inconveniencing so many, though this did not especially bother Mihail, who approached one of his few favoured stands that had not been affected just yet, waggling red fingertips at the vendor as if they were friends.
“I want silk — black, I think — and some of that darling Egyptian cotton.” He had ordered it several times in the past, and it never failed to satisfy. Besides, he had recently been in discussion with his favourite seamstress — her name was Maria and her work was surprisingly stunning, particularly when it came to the elegant chitons she had designed and the matching jewels she had recommended — and she had requested the fabric in particular for something she promised would be astounding. “As much as you have.”
And yet…
‘I’m afraid the cotton has yet to come in due to the shortages, my Lord. But the silk…’ The merchant gestured towards the samples of silk displayed on the counter before him, as if to indicate that there was still some left behind in the rest of his store. This, of course, was not the response that the Thanasi had awaited, and his expression twisted into his petulant pout of irritation. This day was progressively getting worse, and he was not in the mood to listen to more nonsense about how he inexplicably could not have any of the things he wanted because foreign trade was suddenly difficult. Honestly, the Thanasi family should start taking advantage of these situations a lot better and organise their own trade system. Mihail didn’t see what was so complicated about financial success.
He let out a huff of frustration, snapping fingers towards Adonis for attention as he offered his instructions to the merchant. “I want the cotton sent to me the moment it arrives. Send it with the silk and ensure it reaches my home as soon as possible. I am not prepared to wait, and I do not care how much it costs to ensure I have it.” A hand directed the guard to the merchant, though he was already starting to move away, attention captured by some other stall that, although upsettingly crowded, appeared to be one of the few that still carried a solid-seeming supply of fruit in these frustrating times. “Pay.”
Mihail pushed his way past some of the individuals who were in the way of his reaching the front of the rabble, half-concerned that at least one of his plethora of rings was going to end up sliding from his fingers and in the hands of some idiotic peasant who thought it wise to steal from a Thanasi. Once Adonis had caught up, he was rather more helpful in dispersing the group, which made it easy for his charge to make his way to the front, ignoring all those people who seemed to believe that their needs were above his (which they most certainly were not). Most of them scattered as a result, though this was no surprise when his guard was not only appropriately intimidating but also decked in those terrifying colours that indicated this was not a family to upset.
It was exceedingly rare that Mihail would make the effort to visit the stands that sold anything other than cosmetics, clothes or jewellery. Food and household wares, however, fell under the umbrella of servants’ tasks, and he was vastly uninterested in completing them himself. But he did rather desire quince, and he was willing to make an exception if it might obtain him the bitter fruit that he so craved. And this man did have a reasonable selection of quince.
There was some woman wailing about children or hunger or some other thing that truly did not interest the dark-haired lord, and he cut her off before she could continue, pushing past to overtake the vendor’s entire attention (which was not difficult when he stood out so unapologetically from the rest of the crowd with his expensive clothing and dramatically painted eyes). “Adonis. Go find that jeweller I like and, hmm. I want everything with red gemstones. Ooh...and blue. I am having the most darling thoughts for Maria. Go.” He waved him away, feeling reasonably safe given the dagger he always made a habit of carrying and turning instead to the fruit vendor now that the area was almost empty, setting a small though overly reasonable heap of drachmae on the counter before him. “I want all your quince. My guard will return to collect it once he is finished elsewhere, however…” Mihail hesitated, vaguely glancing towards where Adonis was bartering with some other merchant, though he appeared to be carrying a suitable set of jewels already. It was an easy thought: if the staff at home could not manage the job, then he would organise it within moments and prove their idiocy. “Until this ordeal is over, I want all of your quince shipments directed to the Thanasi home. In fact, I should like all your shipments directed towards my home until further notice — is that understood? I will have the staff made aware of the arrangements. I assure you this contract shall be exceedingly profitable to you, if you behave appropriately.”
He offered no chance to disagree, dropping a hand to his waist, running his tongue over his lower lip in thought as if trying to decide whether there was anything else he wanted while the other was beginning the process of tidying his stall now that there was little purpose in maintaining it when he had already managed to sell the lot for a comfortably high price. Mihail leaned over, selecting one of the larger and juicier nectarines that sat untouched, taking a well-desired bite and thoroughly relishing the taste when he had been deprived of his usual fruit for the past few hours.
Perhaps the day could still be reasonably salvaged.
Az
Mihail
Az
Mihail
Awards
First Impressions:Slim; Broken nose, piercing gaze, red-painted nails.
Address: Your His Lordship
The day had not started particularly well, which was a shame because the previous night had been so delightful. Mihail had brought home some gaunt-faced yet handsome blonde (Eugenios, as it turned out, though names had not been exchanged at first) who had been glad to share his bed for the night but had not pleased as much as expected from his fervent promises. When they awoke the next morning, he had been pushed from the bed with distaste because his prolonged presence was certainly not desired (he was already overstaying his welcome by sleeping over, in truth, but Mihail had been too distracted by wine and opium to complain at that point), and then the day had inexplicably and immediately only managed to worsen.
He had stretched arms above his head and pulled himself to a more seated position, reaching expectantly for the usual plate of honeyed quince that had always sat beside his bed in the mornings, only to find that it was not there. This, of course, was thoroughly unacceptable, for he was comfortably used to the reality that there was always going to be quince there when he wanted quince there, and the idea of things not being the way he wanted seemed hugely unfair when he had grown accustomed to it. Thus, a protest would have to be made, and the staff did not tend to do well when the youngest Thanasi complained.
The exterior hallway was empty when Mihail finally appeared, dressed already in his archery clothing although he had not eaten as usual (perhaps it was fortunate that his appetite had never been so excessive that he was hugely affected by the lack of a meal, if irritated) and instead relied on the fruits left over in his daily bowl, though he was not so keen on grapes nor pomegranates as he was his quince. He padded gently out to the hall — he had rather recently purchased some distantly imported fur-lined slippers that so dearly silenced his movements outside of the comfort they provided — leaning against the entry to his chambers as he tended to do whenever he wished to capture the attention of a passing servant and Paris was inexplicably not present to complete the task himself. It did not take long for one to appear, for though it was a traditionally quiet household, there was almost always some stray staff member running from place to place for whatever reason.
“You,” he demanded, snapping in the direction of the man though he appeared otherwise preoccupied by his current task of maneuvering some great pile of scrolls from one end of the house to another in the not-quite brightness of early morning. His name was Ioannes or some variation of such, though Mihail did not find himself especially interested when the staff were so easily replaced. “Quince?”
His response was of the sort one might expect when they had known this subject to be coming and yet hoped regardless that it would not. A stumbled step and several scrolls dropped to unfurl dramatically on the ground, which he hurried to collect without mistakenly offending the Thanasi. ‘The quince, my Lord, uh, yes. We…’ This seemed an undue pause, likely influenced by the pointed manner in which Mihail had chosen to glare at him. ‘...due to the current shortages, we did not receive our last shipment of quince and, unfortunately, we have none left in the kitchens until...until it arrives. I apologise for any inconvenience, but it should hopefully arrive in the next fe—’
“Fix it today,” Mihail replied, waving a hand to silence the man before he said anything else that failed to excuse the situation, thoroughly bored by the words because they were not what he wanted to hear. His gaze drifted down to find one of the stray strolls that had come to rest by his foot, and he absent-mindedly kicked it away in the opposite direction of the pair of them, no matter how inconvenient this might have proved for Ioannes as it slowly unfurled its way down the hall. “And do ensure my fruit is unaffected, lest you wish to become my archery practice.” Honestly, the staff needed to start working on being a thousand times less incompetent when their jobs were truly not all that difficult.
Yet by the time the man had returned from his archery several hours later, the situation was still not resolved. At least, there was no evidence of quince brought up to await him after his bath, and his fruit bowl had not been refilled even though all the staff were fully aware that was the daily expectation on pain of death. It seemed highly unacceptable: perhaps the poor should have been affected by the kingdom’s troubles, but he was not one of them, and arrangements should have been made to ensure that there was no chance the upper classes would suffer.
He did not especially like to get his hands dirty, so to speak, given how much effort he put into maintaining his perfect manicures. Nonetheless, Mihail was far from unintelligent, and he knew full well when he had to take things into his own hands.
Besides, he wanted to go shopping.
Many years ago, the youngest Thanasi had made rather a fuss over the looks of a certain Taengean prince, and had requested in his typically unabashed manner that his sisters allow him to have a man of the same calibre of looks with whom he could do all those things that he might never manage with the prince in question (though one should never say never, for Mihail was perfectly aware of his ability to entice other men into dirty deeds). The result of this begging was a gorgeous new guard inducted into the Thanasi household who both rather coincidentally and ironically went by the name of Adonis, and who, in the past six years, had certainly been used for far more than the assigned purpose. Still, despite his value as such, Mihail did appreciate his worth as a guard, and it was he that was primarily chosen to attend him on trips into the city.
“This is pretty enough, yes?” he had questioned the man, whom he had summoned early to his chambers for the benefit of admiring his handsome features while he finished dressing, spinning slightly from side to side so that the excess fabric of his scarlet chiton would flare around him with the movement and highlight the tinkling sound produced by the metallic beading sewn into it (and matched beautifully with similar decorations in his hair). In truth, Mihail did not need the confirmation of his outfit, but he liked the compliments and general expressions of disbelief. “Or should I add the cuffs?” They were cute golden arm cuffs with sparkling red gemstones for eyes that matched the ones on his ears, and he only asked out of a false politeness when he knew full well he intended to wear them.
‘I don’t really think this is—’
“Yes, I agree. They do rather complement the aesthetic.” He slipped the jewellery on, hesitating a moment to admire the look of it in the polished silver of the mirror. “I am ready to leave. Oh, and if you could prevent excessive proximity, I would appreciate it because I do not particularly care for this outfit to be ruined by somebody putting their filthy hands where they do not belong.” Mihail gestured vaguely in the direction of the small chest where he tended to store his allowance to indicate that Adonis should select some quantity for their trip, then paused to wipe some excess rouge from his cheekbone (imagine the embarrassment of a misplaced smudge!) before directing himself out of the room.
Adonis was directed to trail ceremoniously a few feet away as Mihail passed through the streets, making his way down to the lower levels where the market could be found on most days. He preferred to go without the carriage, if solely because he enjoyed the solitude — guard regardless — of walking and, besides, it was impossible to appreciate his outfits if he was trapped inside an ugly carriage. The streets were far more crowded than was usual, though that was no surprise when the people were in a frenzy for whatever drama tended to upset the lower classes. There were even more horrid beggars around than usual too, and beggars certainly constituted Mihail’s absolute least favourite kind of person. His guard, at least, was excessively competent, giving nearly everybody who passed the appropriate death-glare that stopped them from stepping too close to his charge, which was rather necessary when somebody had chosen today in particular to drip in precious metals down to the criss-crossed straps of their sandals.
Still, he snaked easily through the streets, directing himself to the area of the market occupied by those fabric merchants that tended to have all his favourite things (bar those for which he had to organise the import personally). Many of them were not present today, affected awfully by the shame shortages that were inconveniencing so many, though this did not especially bother Mihail, who approached one of his few favoured stands that had not been affected just yet, waggling red fingertips at the vendor as if they were friends.
“I want silk — black, I think — and some of that darling Egyptian cotton.” He had ordered it several times in the past, and it never failed to satisfy. Besides, he had recently been in discussion with his favourite seamstress — her name was Maria and her work was surprisingly stunning, particularly when it came to the elegant chitons she had designed and the matching jewels she had recommended — and she had requested the fabric in particular for something she promised would be astounding. “As much as you have.”
And yet…
‘I’m afraid the cotton has yet to come in due to the shortages, my Lord. But the silk…’ The merchant gestured towards the samples of silk displayed on the counter before him, as if to indicate that there was still some left behind in the rest of his store. This, of course, was not the response that the Thanasi had awaited, and his expression twisted into his petulant pout of irritation. This day was progressively getting worse, and he was not in the mood to listen to more nonsense about how he inexplicably could not have any of the things he wanted because foreign trade was suddenly difficult. Honestly, the Thanasi family should start taking advantage of these situations a lot better and organise their own trade system. Mihail didn’t see what was so complicated about financial success.
He let out a huff of frustration, snapping fingers towards Adonis for attention as he offered his instructions to the merchant. “I want the cotton sent to me the moment it arrives. Send it with the silk and ensure it reaches my home as soon as possible. I am not prepared to wait, and I do not care how much it costs to ensure I have it.” A hand directed the guard to the merchant, though he was already starting to move away, attention captured by some other stall that, although upsettingly crowded, appeared to be one of the few that still carried a solid-seeming supply of fruit in these frustrating times. “Pay.”
Mihail pushed his way past some of the individuals who were in the way of his reaching the front of the rabble, half-concerned that at least one of his plethora of rings was going to end up sliding from his fingers and in the hands of some idiotic peasant who thought it wise to steal from a Thanasi. Once Adonis had caught up, he was rather more helpful in dispersing the group, which made it easy for his charge to make his way to the front, ignoring all those people who seemed to believe that their needs were above his (which they most certainly were not). Most of them scattered as a result, though this was no surprise when his guard was not only appropriately intimidating but also decked in those terrifying colours that indicated this was not a family to upset.
It was exceedingly rare that Mihail would make the effort to visit the stands that sold anything other than cosmetics, clothes or jewellery. Food and household wares, however, fell under the umbrella of servants’ tasks, and he was vastly uninterested in completing them himself. But he did rather desire quince, and he was willing to make an exception if it might obtain him the bitter fruit that he so craved. And this man did have a reasonable selection of quince.
There was some woman wailing about children or hunger or some other thing that truly did not interest the dark-haired lord, and he cut her off before she could continue, pushing past to overtake the vendor’s entire attention (which was not difficult when he stood out so unapologetically from the rest of the crowd with his expensive clothing and dramatically painted eyes). “Adonis. Go find that jeweller I like and, hmm. I want everything with red gemstones. Ooh...and blue. I am having the most darling thoughts for Maria. Go.” He waved him away, feeling reasonably safe given the dagger he always made a habit of carrying and turning instead to the fruit vendor now that the area was almost empty, setting a small though overly reasonable heap of drachmae on the counter before him. “I want all your quince. My guard will return to collect it once he is finished elsewhere, however…” Mihail hesitated, vaguely glancing towards where Adonis was bartering with some other merchant, though he appeared to be carrying a suitable set of jewels already. It was an easy thought: if the staff at home could not manage the job, then he would organise it within moments and prove their idiocy. “Until this ordeal is over, I want all of your quince shipments directed to the Thanasi home. In fact, I should like all your shipments directed towards my home until further notice — is that understood? I will have the staff made aware of the arrangements. I assure you this contract shall be exceedingly profitable to you, if you behave appropriately.”
He offered no chance to disagree, dropping a hand to his waist, running his tongue over his lower lip in thought as if trying to decide whether there was anything else he wanted while the other was beginning the process of tidying his stall now that there was little purpose in maintaining it when he had already managed to sell the lot for a comfortably high price. Mihail leaned over, selecting one of the larger and juicier nectarines that sat untouched, taking a well-desired bite and thoroughly relishing the taste when he had been deprived of his usual fruit for the past few hours.
Perhaps the day could still be reasonably salvaged.
The day had not started particularly well, which was a shame because the previous night had been so delightful. Mihail had brought home some gaunt-faced yet handsome blonde (Eugenios, as it turned out, though names had not been exchanged at first) who had been glad to share his bed for the night but had not pleased as much as expected from his fervent promises. When they awoke the next morning, he had been pushed from the bed with distaste because his prolonged presence was certainly not desired (he was already overstaying his welcome by sleeping over, in truth, but Mihail had been too distracted by wine and opium to complain at that point), and then the day had inexplicably and immediately only managed to worsen.
He had stretched arms above his head and pulled himself to a more seated position, reaching expectantly for the usual plate of honeyed quince that had always sat beside his bed in the mornings, only to find that it was not there. This, of course, was thoroughly unacceptable, for he was comfortably used to the reality that there was always going to be quince there when he wanted quince there, and the idea of things not being the way he wanted seemed hugely unfair when he had grown accustomed to it. Thus, a protest would have to be made, and the staff did not tend to do well when the youngest Thanasi complained.
The exterior hallway was empty when Mihail finally appeared, dressed already in his archery clothing although he had not eaten as usual (perhaps it was fortunate that his appetite had never been so excessive that he was hugely affected by the lack of a meal, if irritated) and instead relied on the fruits left over in his daily bowl, though he was not so keen on grapes nor pomegranates as he was his quince. He padded gently out to the hall — he had rather recently purchased some distantly imported fur-lined slippers that so dearly silenced his movements outside of the comfort they provided — leaning against the entry to his chambers as he tended to do whenever he wished to capture the attention of a passing servant and Paris was inexplicably not present to complete the task himself. It did not take long for one to appear, for though it was a traditionally quiet household, there was almost always some stray staff member running from place to place for whatever reason.
“You,” he demanded, snapping in the direction of the man though he appeared otherwise preoccupied by his current task of maneuvering some great pile of scrolls from one end of the house to another in the not-quite brightness of early morning. His name was Ioannes or some variation of such, though Mihail did not find himself especially interested when the staff were so easily replaced. “Quince?”
His response was of the sort one might expect when they had known this subject to be coming and yet hoped regardless that it would not. A stumbled step and several scrolls dropped to unfurl dramatically on the ground, which he hurried to collect without mistakenly offending the Thanasi. ‘The quince, my Lord, uh, yes. We…’ This seemed an undue pause, likely influenced by the pointed manner in which Mihail had chosen to glare at him. ‘...due to the current shortages, we did not receive our last shipment of quince and, unfortunately, we have none left in the kitchens until...until it arrives. I apologise for any inconvenience, but it should hopefully arrive in the next fe—’
“Fix it today,” Mihail replied, waving a hand to silence the man before he said anything else that failed to excuse the situation, thoroughly bored by the words because they were not what he wanted to hear. His gaze drifted down to find one of the stray strolls that had come to rest by his foot, and he absent-mindedly kicked it away in the opposite direction of the pair of them, no matter how inconvenient this might have proved for Ioannes as it slowly unfurled its way down the hall. “And do ensure my fruit is unaffected, lest you wish to become my archery practice.” Honestly, the staff needed to start working on being a thousand times less incompetent when their jobs were truly not all that difficult.
Yet by the time the man had returned from his archery several hours later, the situation was still not resolved. At least, there was no evidence of quince brought up to await him after his bath, and his fruit bowl had not been refilled even though all the staff were fully aware that was the daily expectation on pain of death. It seemed highly unacceptable: perhaps the poor should have been affected by the kingdom’s troubles, but he was not one of them, and arrangements should have been made to ensure that there was no chance the upper classes would suffer.
He did not especially like to get his hands dirty, so to speak, given how much effort he put into maintaining his perfect manicures. Nonetheless, Mihail was far from unintelligent, and he knew full well when he had to take things into his own hands.
Besides, he wanted to go shopping.
Many years ago, the youngest Thanasi had made rather a fuss over the looks of a certain Taengean prince, and had requested in his typically unabashed manner that his sisters allow him to have a man of the same calibre of looks with whom he could do all those things that he might never manage with the prince in question (though one should never say never, for Mihail was perfectly aware of his ability to entice other men into dirty deeds). The result of this begging was a gorgeous new guard inducted into the Thanasi household who both rather coincidentally and ironically went by the name of Adonis, and who, in the past six years, had certainly been used for far more than the assigned purpose. Still, despite his value as such, Mihail did appreciate his worth as a guard, and it was he that was primarily chosen to attend him on trips into the city.
“This is pretty enough, yes?” he had questioned the man, whom he had summoned early to his chambers for the benefit of admiring his handsome features while he finished dressing, spinning slightly from side to side so that the excess fabric of his scarlet chiton would flare around him with the movement and highlight the tinkling sound produced by the metallic beading sewn into it (and matched beautifully with similar decorations in his hair). In truth, Mihail did not need the confirmation of his outfit, but he liked the compliments and general expressions of disbelief. “Or should I add the cuffs?” They were cute golden arm cuffs with sparkling red gemstones for eyes that matched the ones on his ears, and he only asked out of a false politeness when he knew full well he intended to wear them.
‘I don’t really think this is—’
“Yes, I agree. They do rather complement the aesthetic.” He slipped the jewellery on, hesitating a moment to admire the look of it in the polished silver of the mirror. “I am ready to leave. Oh, and if you could prevent excessive proximity, I would appreciate it because I do not particularly care for this outfit to be ruined by somebody putting their filthy hands where they do not belong.” Mihail gestured vaguely in the direction of the small chest where he tended to store his allowance to indicate that Adonis should select some quantity for their trip, then paused to wipe some excess rouge from his cheekbone (imagine the embarrassment of a misplaced smudge!) before directing himself out of the room.
Adonis was directed to trail ceremoniously a few feet away as Mihail passed through the streets, making his way down to the lower levels where the market could be found on most days. He preferred to go without the carriage, if solely because he enjoyed the solitude — guard regardless — of walking and, besides, it was impossible to appreciate his outfits if he was trapped inside an ugly carriage. The streets were far more crowded than was usual, though that was no surprise when the people were in a frenzy for whatever drama tended to upset the lower classes. There were even more horrid beggars around than usual too, and beggars certainly constituted Mihail’s absolute least favourite kind of person. His guard, at least, was excessively competent, giving nearly everybody who passed the appropriate death-glare that stopped them from stepping too close to his charge, which was rather necessary when somebody had chosen today in particular to drip in precious metals down to the criss-crossed straps of their sandals.
Still, he snaked easily through the streets, directing himself to the area of the market occupied by those fabric merchants that tended to have all his favourite things (bar those for which he had to organise the import personally). Many of them were not present today, affected awfully by the shame shortages that were inconveniencing so many, though this did not especially bother Mihail, who approached one of his few favoured stands that had not been affected just yet, waggling red fingertips at the vendor as if they were friends.
“I want silk — black, I think — and some of that darling Egyptian cotton.” He had ordered it several times in the past, and it never failed to satisfy. Besides, he had recently been in discussion with his favourite seamstress — her name was Maria and her work was surprisingly stunning, particularly when it came to the elegant chitons she had designed and the matching jewels she had recommended — and she had requested the fabric in particular for something she promised would be astounding. “As much as you have.”
And yet…
‘I’m afraid the cotton has yet to come in due to the shortages, my Lord. But the silk…’ The merchant gestured towards the samples of silk displayed on the counter before him, as if to indicate that there was still some left behind in the rest of his store. This, of course, was not the response that the Thanasi had awaited, and his expression twisted into his petulant pout of irritation. This day was progressively getting worse, and he was not in the mood to listen to more nonsense about how he inexplicably could not have any of the things he wanted because foreign trade was suddenly difficult. Honestly, the Thanasi family should start taking advantage of these situations a lot better and organise their own trade system. Mihail didn’t see what was so complicated about financial success.
He let out a huff of frustration, snapping fingers towards Adonis for attention as he offered his instructions to the merchant. “I want the cotton sent to me the moment it arrives. Send it with the silk and ensure it reaches my home as soon as possible. I am not prepared to wait, and I do not care how much it costs to ensure I have it.” A hand directed the guard to the merchant, though he was already starting to move away, attention captured by some other stall that, although upsettingly crowded, appeared to be one of the few that still carried a solid-seeming supply of fruit in these frustrating times. “Pay.”
Mihail pushed his way past some of the individuals who were in the way of his reaching the front of the rabble, half-concerned that at least one of his plethora of rings was going to end up sliding from his fingers and in the hands of some idiotic peasant who thought it wise to steal from a Thanasi. Once Adonis had caught up, he was rather more helpful in dispersing the group, which made it easy for his charge to make his way to the front, ignoring all those people who seemed to believe that their needs were above his (which they most certainly were not). Most of them scattered as a result, though this was no surprise when his guard was not only appropriately intimidating but also decked in those terrifying colours that indicated this was not a family to upset.
It was exceedingly rare that Mihail would make the effort to visit the stands that sold anything other than cosmetics, clothes or jewellery. Food and household wares, however, fell under the umbrella of servants’ tasks, and he was vastly uninterested in completing them himself. But he did rather desire quince, and he was willing to make an exception if it might obtain him the bitter fruit that he so craved. And this man did have a reasonable selection of quince.
There was some woman wailing about children or hunger or some other thing that truly did not interest the dark-haired lord, and he cut her off before she could continue, pushing past to overtake the vendor’s entire attention (which was not difficult when he stood out so unapologetically from the rest of the crowd with his expensive clothing and dramatically painted eyes). “Adonis. Go find that jeweller I like and, hmm. I want everything with red gemstones. Ooh...and blue. I am having the most darling thoughts for Maria. Go.” He waved him away, feeling reasonably safe given the dagger he always made a habit of carrying and turning instead to the fruit vendor now that the area was almost empty, setting a small though overly reasonable heap of drachmae on the counter before him. “I want all your quince. My guard will return to collect it once he is finished elsewhere, however…” Mihail hesitated, vaguely glancing towards where Adonis was bartering with some other merchant, though he appeared to be carrying a suitable set of jewels already. It was an easy thought: if the staff at home could not manage the job, then he would organise it within moments and prove their idiocy. “Until this ordeal is over, I want all of your quince shipments directed to the Thanasi home. In fact, I should like all your shipments directed towards my home until further notice — is that understood? I will have the staff made aware of the arrangements. I assure you this contract shall be exceedingly profitable to you, if you behave appropriately.”
He offered no chance to disagree, dropping a hand to his waist, running his tongue over his lower lip in thought as if trying to decide whether there was anything else he wanted while the other was beginning the process of tidying his stall now that there was little purpose in maintaining it when he had already managed to sell the lot for a comfortably high price. Mihail leaned over, selecting one of the larger and juicier nectarines that sat untouched, taking a well-desired bite and thoroughly relishing the taste when he had been deprived of his usual fruit for the past few hours.
Perhaps the day could still be reasonably salvaged.
Hunger was an old friend. In the winter, when travelers were scarce and the orchards stood bare, when the fish gathered in the bowls of the sea and stayed far from the banks, sometimes they went hungry. One of her uncles would inevitably wander into the city and come back with bread and dried meat, but not until they were sure they could not get food without spending coin. Sometimes it took days to ensure such things.
Her uncles were dead. The days of living on the road and slaughtering for sustenance were behind her. Now, in a most unlikely turn of fortune, Aea was employed by the ruling house of Colchis. She did not know how she got here. She was sure she didn't deserve it. But she was here, and just in time. It was moments such as these when she looked to the sky and wondered...were the gods there? Did one push her fate?
Had she lived on the road now, she was sure she would have been asked to do the one thing she would never willingly do. If it had not been for her family's slaughter, she wouldn't have accepted the princess' generous offer, and she would even now be lying on her back for a few owls. But she was not. Instead, she ate well, bathed in a tub, and wore clean clothes of the finest material every day. She could ask for whatever she needed and it would be provided within a few hours. And all without compromising her self-worth.
Even then, she did not take advantage of it. She wore the simple white chiton expected of a retainer, wore a simple white tunic when Asia wished to go traipsing through the wood, wore a simple sword and her simple daggers, ate one serving at meal time, and was content that all her needs were filled.
She came to the market today to fetch a few herbs for Asia’s tonic. The princess had been bedridden for weeks now, and Aea was worried. Her health took a steep decline a little after the feast, and it had only worsened. The surgeons couldn’t offer explanation, only treat the symptoms and hope the Gods took pity on the royal. Aea did not know what she would do if the princess died. Death was usually something she could control, whether by thrusting forward or staying her hand. Not this. She let herself get attached to the princess because she thought she could trust the love that might settle there. If she died, though, it was yet another that was taken from Aea.
Having no other option, she prayed at the temples and she searched out wise women and apothecaries on her own time, looking for hidden knowledge, unturned stones, options nobody considered. Yet still, there was nothing she could do.
Aea stood with her arms crossed, her eyes glued to the guard exchanging money with the herb merchant. Ajax had to come with her because many of the stalls might try and cheat her out of a sale. Some stalls would even raise a price because of her sex.
And she had to pretend that she wouldn’t just steal the goods anyway because what she wouldn’t admit to Ajax or any other was that she did not know the value of goods. She lived in the forest for so long, had never purchased anything to begin with, that she did not even know the cost of a loaf of bread.
But she knew how much coin she’d given Ajax, and she watched him closely to ensure each one was accounted for. People were going hungry, none of the commoners knew why, but Aea knew. She wasn't going to blindly trust in Ajax's integrity.
This lack of food might have been attributed to a drought if Colchis grew any crops to begin with. No, instead they were running out of food because a shipment of payment had gone missing—she learned such things by standing too close to rooms women were not supposed to go. Fucking nonsense. Never had she been told she could not do something because of the thing between her legs. As if it made her less capable of understanding.
But it was not something she could change. Yet. She was working on it in her own way. For now, she knew what happened, and through experience, she could predict what would occur as a result if things weren’t fixed swiftly.
Ajax thanked the merchant and moved from the herb stall to Aea, holding out his purchases. Her white epiblema was drawn over her head and across the lower half of her face, and as checked the basket, she drew the material down just enough to smell each uncorked bottle, ensuring they weren’t some other plant passed off as what was needed.
Everything looked to be in order. Aea dropped the herbs back in the basket and glanced at Ajax long enough to ensure his chlamys hadn’t slipped to reveal the insignia hiding beneath—her insistence. Once people began to go hungry, they oft looked for someone to fix their empty bellies. And when it could not be fixed, they looked for someone to blame. If they were hungry enough, they looked for someone to eat. Sometimes the blamed party and the eaten party were one in the same.
Aea wasn’t so far removed from poverty that she did not consider herself a penniless peon. She knew how they thought, and so she knew carrying the royal insignia at this time was far more dangerous than posing as a common hunter.
“We’re done.” Aea intoned, turning away from the guard to foot a path back to the palace. Ajax, big as an ox and almost as talkative as one, grunted. She hypothesized that he actually had his own language and so she oft kept count of his grunts and hums to categorize them accordingly.
Big booming voices hawking their wares pinged off every surface available, bidding cries, laughing gaggles of women, shrieking children, bleating goats, and clapping hands twisted round and round into a most belligerent symphony.
Life existed here in the market. Joy and long days when Ares took his leisure in hibernation. Days like this should be grasped and held tender to the breast, for the war season would be upon them sooner than they knew, but not before sickness rode to battle against them on winter winds.
And yet it was a farce. For underneath all of it was dulling skin, protruding rib bones, gaunt cheeks, rumbling stomachs, and parched tongues. Everyone was pretending normalcy for the sake of their nerves. If they admitted that the hunger would last, they would panic. The weakest were already beginning to weaken and die. The homeless congested around the palace and royal houses, their mood brewing darker by the day.
She took the initiative in checking the nearer royal houses to take note of daily changes in the crowds around them. Unsurprisingly, those numbers coincided with the increase in guards protecting the manors.
A bad idea. More guards drew even thicker lines between the nobles and the commoners and caused old resentments to surface. If they must increase them, they should have done so from within the walls.
Ajax grunted, the sound turning into a sardonic huff through his nostrils. “Thanasi.”
Aea frowned at him, then followed his gaze. It should go without saying that he was taller than her, most men were. Due to such an inconvenience, she could not see over the crowd as he did and so did not know what had him so irritated. She did, however, know what ‘Thanasi’ meant. A royal house, the patriarch half-dead and the children mired in all sorts of ridiculous rumors that required a great loss of logic to believe.
Curious, Aea stopped attempting to see over the crowd and instead wound through the warm market bodies, sliding through sun-baked arms and quarry-solid torsos until she caught a flash of scarlet that was far cleaner and richer than any blood hues in the vicinity. Finally, she emerged from the gathered citizens as if breaking the surface of the sea and found herself standing at a trickling fountain that had once bloomed strong with water. She saw him then.
Lush black hair bounced and waved with each measured step and flawless fabric danced about his feet and shoulders like dark clouds threaded with glittering beads of winking metal. Jewels glittered from his arms, his ears, his hair, and when he looked at something or someone just past her, his eyes caught the sun and though he was not close, it was not difficult to see the fine blends and curves of his eye paint.
The crowd did not seem to quiet at his arrival—they did quiet. Static crackled along the back of Aea’s neck as the mood of the crowd dipped upon the display of such fortunes when the entire city gradually went hungry.
A beautiful creature, one she’d seen before. There was no mistaking his hair or his carriage, and now she bore witness to his fine bone structure and wickedly sharp features. As perfect as a dream, and apparently as foolish as one as well. Surely he knew what was happening in the world around him. Was he flirting with death or flashing his wealth for no other reason save cruelty? She knew the rumors, and the latter would match the Thanasi reputation accordingly, but people were not so simple as that. Even if he were cruel, there was a reason for it. There was always a reason.
Ajax emerged from the crowd and she glanced at him from the corner of her vision. Technically, he was in charge of their little outing, but he generally just followed her around and made purchases when needed. She doubted he would raise a fuss now. And if he did, well...she would cross that bridge when and if they arrived at it.
Aea twisted through the crowd again, rounding a path until she positioned herself behind the lord. She watched him as he moved and interacted with the world around him, fascinated by the way he conducted himself. Of all the royals she met, and there weren’t many, they all seemed to center themselves around the ideals of honor and duty. She liked that about them, enjoyed the ease and novelty in knowing they weren’t inclined to violence. But this royal...
“I’m afraid the cotton has yet to come in due to the shortages, my Lord. But the silk…” The lord spoke with a textile merchant, and the merchant himself seemed somewhat perturbed by his lacking inventory.
“I want the cotton sent to me the moment it arrives. Send it with the silk and ensure it reaches my home as soon as possible. I am not prepared to wait, and I do not care how much it costs to ensure I have it.”
Aea’s eyebrows slowly crawled up her face. Just as soon as the Thanasi made his order, he was off again, sparing only a single-word order to the guard who accompanied him. “Pay.”
“Miss Aea,” Ajax called. He caught up to her and she blinked before moving her attention from the lord to the Kotas guard. He’d never used her name before. Upon closer inspection of his expression, he seemed miffed, though the only thing that gave it away was the tilt of his usually placid expression.
“I’m almost done.” She said, looking back at the lord as he approached what looked to be a fruit vendor. She didn’t know what, exactly, she was doing, but she was loath to simply abandon the market without having first investigated the strange and otherworldly creature drifting among the sea of hungry commoners as if death and dismemberment could never touch him.
“Which Thanasi is that?” she asked.
Ajax didn’t answer her for a moment, possibly thinking deeply on a recall, possibly unwilling to disclose the information. But then he muttered, “His Lordship Mihail of Thanasi, birthed son of Dionysios of Thanasi and Ulla of Kotas.”
Aea did not realize the Kotas and Thanasi were so closely related. Interesting.
“Go bring the herbs back to the palace,” she said without looking at him. “I want to browse.”
Ajax looked at her, looked at the fruit stand, frowned in concentration, then looked at her once more. Aea did not wait for his decision, instead, she dissolved into the mass of bodies surrounding the fruit stand and wedged out of it just behind the Thanasi lord. His guard, dressed in red and black, seemed to only need to straighten his shoulders and the crowd around them scattered like pigeons. Aea prowled at the edge of the guard’s reach and looked past him as if she weren’t trying to get to the fruit stand.
A woman stepped before the lord and cried out for her children, but her dirge fell on deaf ears as the Thanasi lord shoved past. The corner of Aea’s lips twitched. Unfortunately, upon taking residence in the city, Aea soon discovered it was not easy to ignore hungry children. Even when she knew the parents prodded them into begging, bulging little bellies full of worms bothered her greatly. It wasn’t so long ago when she was that child.
“Adonis. Go find that jeweller I like and, hmm. I want everything with red gemstones. Ooh...and blue. I am having the most darling thoughts for Maria. Go." The lord said. Aea's mind meshed the voice with the face and she would not soon forget the beat nor the melody of his verbal expression.
The guard departed, passing Aea without so much as a glance. And why would he? Her clothes, though dove-white, were plain and unadorned, her face remained covered, and her Kotas emblem stayed hidden beneath the folds of her epiblema. Before he breezed past her completely, Aea canted her hips toward him and bumped the guard.
There was a moment where she thought he might strike her, but her quick apologies and wide hand gestures distracted him for a few breaths and she was able to slide her smallest dagger from her leather wrist-band to her palm and slice the bag of coin from his hip. Aea bowed apologetically and the guard departed. Once he turned his head, she slipped the epiblema from her head and shoulders and dipped her fingers into the Thanasi’s purse. She found a coin, didn’t look at what it was, and pressed it into the woman’s stomach as she passed Aea.
The coin disappeared from her fingers and it was quick work to wrap the slit rope to her leather belt and tie the epiblema about her round hips to hide it. Often, when others paid little mind to her covered face, revealing the whole of it was enough of a disguise to dissuade recognition.
“Until this ordeal is over, I want all of your quince shipments directed to the Thanasi home. In fact, I should like all your shipments directed towards my home until further notice — is that understood? I will have the staff made aware of the arrangements. I assure you this contract shall be exceedingly profitable to you, if you behave appropriately.”
She discovered something quite odd about herself not two months before. No matter how monsterous a person seemingly was, she could not find it within herself to completely dislike them. Instead, she found fascination in their shared similarities, wonder at where such beastliness came from.
Even in this, when she bore witness to such audacity. Behaving appropriately...what did that mean? What would happen to his contract should he behave inappropriately? Why quince? What would he do with all of these shipments? He was so slim it was difficult to imagine him eating them all himself.
Perhaps he was buying it for his royal household. The staff needed to eat as well, after all. She was prepared to believe that assumption over all others, but his behavior toward the woman just moments before, his family's reputation, his expectant tone…she was missing a variable in this formula.
The beautiful man had her complete focus now, and so all other worries and questions fell away in favor of him. Not even his sibylline presence could distract her from her compulsion to dig further, and though a glance from him might have stirred an allurement before, no amount of charm could eat away her objective intrigue. Besides, she had practice ignoring such things now. She couldn’t be controlled and strung along by an enchanting smile.
Aea took a deep breath and quashed the excited flip of her stomach. It was her way to dance with things that she should fear and shun those that seemed harmless. Even now, she knew she should leave well enough alone, but the impulse to continue was far too strong. She wanted to know more of this Thanasi man who’d so thoroughly distracted her a month and a half past, and she would not discover more by standing idle.
“Lord Thanasi. What an honor it is to finally meet you. Fables of your grace do not touch the reality of your presence.” She was bold as she stepped beside him, sparing a flick of a glance to the merchant. She held her shoulders back and her chin proud as she knew to do, taking care to ensure her red-hued bear fibule was on full display for the vendor. “Unfortunately, even such a great beauty as yours cannot reverse the will of the crown.”
She could practically feel Ajax at her back. Glancing over her shoulder, she found that he was indeed standing just a few feet away. Aea gestured him forward. It was not assured that this would work at all. A number of things could go wrong, but she did know that the king’s orders superseded all others and she was counting on that. She only hoped she did not get caught in a lie, for a flogging was something she very much wished to avoid.
As Ajax stepped up behind her, she flicked her hand to the merchant, copying movements and impressions she'd observed a dozen times over from the Queen when the woman happened by. “See to it that your inventory goes directly to the Kotas manor. Ajax, give this gentleman a receipt and a deposit. You’ll report to the front gate and be directed from there, sir.”
She flicked her gaze back toward the Thanasi lord and smiled, “I am sorry to inconvenience you. But I’m sure you understand. People are dying, my lord, and we’re donating to those most in need during these trying times. If your household requires fruit, I’m certain arrangements could be made.”
Arra
Aea
Arra
Aea
Awards
First Impressions:Hourglass; Glossy black hair that falls to her hips, piercing blue eyes, a voluptuous figure, and a serious, concentrated expression.
Address: Your
First Impressions:Hourglass; Glossy black hair that falls to her hips, piercing blue eyes, a voluptuous figure, and a serious, concentrated expression.
Address: Your
Hunger was an old friend. In the winter, when travelers were scarce and the orchards stood bare, when the fish gathered in the bowls of the sea and stayed far from the banks, sometimes they went hungry. One of her uncles would inevitably wander into the city and come back with bread and dried meat, but not until they were sure they could not get food without spending coin. Sometimes it took days to ensure such things.
Her uncles were dead. The days of living on the road and slaughtering for sustenance were behind her. Now, in a most unlikely turn of fortune, Aea was employed by the ruling house of Colchis. She did not know how she got here. She was sure she didn't deserve it. But she was here, and just in time. It was moments such as these when she looked to the sky and wondered...were the gods there? Did one push her fate?
Had she lived on the road now, she was sure she would have been asked to do the one thing she would never willingly do. If it had not been for her family's slaughter, she wouldn't have accepted the princess' generous offer, and she would even now be lying on her back for a few owls. But she was not. Instead, she ate well, bathed in a tub, and wore clean clothes of the finest material every day. She could ask for whatever she needed and it would be provided within a few hours. And all without compromising her self-worth.
Even then, she did not take advantage of it. She wore the simple white chiton expected of a retainer, wore a simple white tunic when Asia wished to go traipsing through the wood, wore a simple sword and her simple daggers, ate one serving at meal time, and was content that all her needs were filled.
She came to the market today to fetch a few herbs for Asia’s tonic. The princess had been bedridden for weeks now, and Aea was worried. Her health took a steep decline a little after the feast, and it had only worsened. The surgeons couldn’t offer explanation, only treat the symptoms and hope the Gods took pity on the royal. Aea did not know what she would do if the princess died. Death was usually something she could control, whether by thrusting forward or staying her hand. Not this. She let herself get attached to the princess because she thought she could trust the love that might settle there. If she died, though, it was yet another that was taken from Aea.
Having no other option, she prayed at the temples and she searched out wise women and apothecaries on her own time, looking for hidden knowledge, unturned stones, options nobody considered. Yet still, there was nothing she could do.
Aea stood with her arms crossed, her eyes glued to the guard exchanging money with the herb merchant. Ajax had to come with her because many of the stalls might try and cheat her out of a sale. Some stalls would even raise a price because of her sex.
And she had to pretend that she wouldn’t just steal the goods anyway because what she wouldn’t admit to Ajax or any other was that she did not know the value of goods. She lived in the forest for so long, had never purchased anything to begin with, that she did not even know the cost of a loaf of bread.
But she knew how much coin she’d given Ajax, and she watched him closely to ensure each one was accounted for. People were going hungry, none of the commoners knew why, but Aea knew. She wasn't going to blindly trust in Ajax's integrity.
This lack of food might have been attributed to a drought if Colchis grew any crops to begin with. No, instead they were running out of food because a shipment of payment had gone missing—she learned such things by standing too close to rooms women were not supposed to go. Fucking nonsense. Never had she been told she could not do something because of the thing between her legs. As if it made her less capable of understanding.
But it was not something she could change. Yet. She was working on it in her own way. For now, she knew what happened, and through experience, she could predict what would occur as a result if things weren’t fixed swiftly.
Ajax thanked the merchant and moved from the herb stall to Aea, holding out his purchases. Her white epiblema was drawn over her head and across the lower half of her face, and as checked the basket, she drew the material down just enough to smell each uncorked bottle, ensuring they weren’t some other plant passed off as what was needed.
Everything looked to be in order. Aea dropped the herbs back in the basket and glanced at Ajax long enough to ensure his chlamys hadn’t slipped to reveal the insignia hiding beneath—her insistence. Once people began to go hungry, they oft looked for someone to fix their empty bellies. And when it could not be fixed, they looked for someone to blame. If they were hungry enough, they looked for someone to eat. Sometimes the blamed party and the eaten party were one in the same.
Aea wasn’t so far removed from poverty that she did not consider herself a penniless peon. She knew how they thought, and so she knew carrying the royal insignia at this time was far more dangerous than posing as a common hunter.
“We’re done.” Aea intoned, turning away from the guard to foot a path back to the palace. Ajax, big as an ox and almost as talkative as one, grunted. She hypothesized that he actually had his own language and so she oft kept count of his grunts and hums to categorize them accordingly.
Big booming voices hawking their wares pinged off every surface available, bidding cries, laughing gaggles of women, shrieking children, bleating goats, and clapping hands twisted round and round into a most belligerent symphony.
Life existed here in the market. Joy and long days when Ares took his leisure in hibernation. Days like this should be grasped and held tender to the breast, for the war season would be upon them sooner than they knew, but not before sickness rode to battle against them on winter winds.
And yet it was a farce. For underneath all of it was dulling skin, protruding rib bones, gaunt cheeks, rumbling stomachs, and parched tongues. Everyone was pretending normalcy for the sake of their nerves. If they admitted that the hunger would last, they would panic. The weakest were already beginning to weaken and die. The homeless congested around the palace and royal houses, their mood brewing darker by the day.
She took the initiative in checking the nearer royal houses to take note of daily changes in the crowds around them. Unsurprisingly, those numbers coincided with the increase in guards protecting the manors.
A bad idea. More guards drew even thicker lines between the nobles and the commoners and caused old resentments to surface. If they must increase them, they should have done so from within the walls.
Ajax grunted, the sound turning into a sardonic huff through his nostrils. “Thanasi.”
Aea frowned at him, then followed his gaze. It should go without saying that he was taller than her, most men were. Due to such an inconvenience, she could not see over the crowd as he did and so did not know what had him so irritated. She did, however, know what ‘Thanasi’ meant. A royal house, the patriarch half-dead and the children mired in all sorts of ridiculous rumors that required a great loss of logic to believe.
Curious, Aea stopped attempting to see over the crowd and instead wound through the warm market bodies, sliding through sun-baked arms and quarry-solid torsos until she caught a flash of scarlet that was far cleaner and richer than any blood hues in the vicinity. Finally, she emerged from the gathered citizens as if breaking the surface of the sea and found herself standing at a trickling fountain that had once bloomed strong with water. She saw him then.
Lush black hair bounced and waved with each measured step and flawless fabric danced about his feet and shoulders like dark clouds threaded with glittering beads of winking metal. Jewels glittered from his arms, his ears, his hair, and when he looked at something or someone just past her, his eyes caught the sun and though he was not close, it was not difficult to see the fine blends and curves of his eye paint.
The crowd did not seem to quiet at his arrival—they did quiet. Static crackled along the back of Aea’s neck as the mood of the crowd dipped upon the display of such fortunes when the entire city gradually went hungry.
A beautiful creature, one she’d seen before. There was no mistaking his hair or his carriage, and now she bore witness to his fine bone structure and wickedly sharp features. As perfect as a dream, and apparently as foolish as one as well. Surely he knew what was happening in the world around him. Was he flirting with death or flashing his wealth for no other reason save cruelty? She knew the rumors, and the latter would match the Thanasi reputation accordingly, but people were not so simple as that. Even if he were cruel, there was a reason for it. There was always a reason.
Ajax emerged from the crowd and she glanced at him from the corner of her vision. Technically, he was in charge of their little outing, but he generally just followed her around and made purchases when needed. She doubted he would raise a fuss now. And if he did, well...she would cross that bridge when and if they arrived at it.
Aea twisted through the crowd again, rounding a path until she positioned herself behind the lord. She watched him as he moved and interacted with the world around him, fascinated by the way he conducted himself. Of all the royals she met, and there weren’t many, they all seemed to center themselves around the ideals of honor and duty. She liked that about them, enjoyed the ease and novelty in knowing they weren’t inclined to violence. But this royal...
“I’m afraid the cotton has yet to come in due to the shortages, my Lord. But the silk…” The lord spoke with a textile merchant, and the merchant himself seemed somewhat perturbed by his lacking inventory.
“I want the cotton sent to me the moment it arrives. Send it with the silk and ensure it reaches my home as soon as possible. I am not prepared to wait, and I do not care how much it costs to ensure I have it.”
Aea’s eyebrows slowly crawled up her face. Just as soon as the Thanasi made his order, he was off again, sparing only a single-word order to the guard who accompanied him. “Pay.”
“Miss Aea,” Ajax called. He caught up to her and she blinked before moving her attention from the lord to the Kotas guard. He’d never used her name before. Upon closer inspection of his expression, he seemed miffed, though the only thing that gave it away was the tilt of his usually placid expression.
“I’m almost done.” She said, looking back at the lord as he approached what looked to be a fruit vendor. She didn’t know what, exactly, she was doing, but she was loath to simply abandon the market without having first investigated the strange and otherworldly creature drifting among the sea of hungry commoners as if death and dismemberment could never touch him.
“Which Thanasi is that?” she asked.
Ajax didn’t answer her for a moment, possibly thinking deeply on a recall, possibly unwilling to disclose the information. But then he muttered, “His Lordship Mihail of Thanasi, birthed son of Dionysios of Thanasi and Ulla of Kotas.”
Aea did not realize the Kotas and Thanasi were so closely related. Interesting.
“Go bring the herbs back to the palace,” she said without looking at him. “I want to browse.”
Ajax looked at her, looked at the fruit stand, frowned in concentration, then looked at her once more. Aea did not wait for his decision, instead, she dissolved into the mass of bodies surrounding the fruit stand and wedged out of it just behind the Thanasi lord. His guard, dressed in red and black, seemed to only need to straighten his shoulders and the crowd around them scattered like pigeons. Aea prowled at the edge of the guard’s reach and looked past him as if she weren’t trying to get to the fruit stand.
A woman stepped before the lord and cried out for her children, but her dirge fell on deaf ears as the Thanasi lord shoved past. The corner of Aea’s lips twitched. Unfortunately, upon taking residence in the city, Aea soon discovered it was not easy to ignore hungry children. Even when she knew the parents prodded them into begging, bulging little bellies full of worms bothered her greatly. It wasn’t so long ago when she was that child.
“Adonis. Go find that jeweller I like and, hmm. I want everything with red gemstones. Ooh...and blue. I am having the most darling thoughts for Maria. Go." The lord said. Aea's mind meshed the voice with the face and she would not soon forget the beat nor the melody of his verbal expression.
The guard departed, passing Aea without so much as a glance. And why would he? Her clothes, though dove-white, were plain and unadorned, her face remained covered, and her Kotas emblem stayed hidden beneath the folds of her epiblema. Before he breezed past her completely, Aea canted her hips toward him and bumped the guard.
There was a moment where she thought he might strike her, but her quick apologies and wide hand gestures distracted him for a few breaths and she was able to slide her smallest dagger from her leather wrist-band to her palm and slice the bag of coin from his hip. Aea bowed apologetically and the guard departed. Once he turned his head, she slipped the epiblema from her head and shoulders and dipped her fingers into the Thanasi’s purse. She found a coin, didn’t look at what it was, and pressed it into the woman’s stomach as she passed Aea.
The coin disappeared from her fingers and it was quick work to wrap the slit rope to her leather belt and tie the epiblema about her round hips to hide it. Often, when others paid little mind to her covered face, revealing the whole of it was enough of a disguise to dissuade recognition.
“Until this ordeal is over, I want all of your quince shipments directed to the Thanasi home. In fact, I should like all your shipments directed towards my home until further notice — is that understood? I will have the staff made aware of the arrangements. I assure you this contract shall be exceedingly profitable to you, if you behave appropriately.”
She discovered something quite odd about herself not two months before. No matter how monsterous a person seemingly was, she could not find it within herself to completely dislike them. Instead, she found fascination in their shared similarities, wonder at where such beastliness came from.
Even in this, when she bore witness to such audacity. Behaving appropriately...what did that mean? What would happen to his contract should he behave inappropriately? Why quince? What would he do with all of these shipments? He was so slim it was difficult to imagine him eating them all himself.
Perhaps he was buying it for his royal household. The staff needed to eat as well, after all. She was prepared to believe that assumption over all others, but his behavior toward the woman just moments before, his family's reputation, his expectant tone…she was missing a variable in this formula.
The beautiful man had her complete focus now, and so all other worries and questions fell away in favor of him. Not even his sibylline presence could distract her from her compulsion to dig further, and though a glance from him might have stirred an allurement before, no amount of charm could eat away her objective intrigue. Besides, she had practice ignoring such things now. She couldn’t be controlled and strung along by an enchanting smile.
Aea took a deep breath and quashed the excited flip of her stomach. It was her way to dance with things that she should fear and shun those that seemed harmless. Even now, she knew she should leave well enough alone, but the impulse to continue was far too strong. She wanted to know more of this Thanasi man who’d so thoroughly distracted her a month and a half past, and she would not discover more by standing idle.
“Lord Thanasi. What an honor it is to finally meet you. Fables of your grace do not touch the reality of your presence.” She was bold as she stepped beside him, sparing a flick of a glance to the merchant. She held her shoulders back and her chin proud as she knew to do, taking care to ensure her red-hued bear fibule was on full display for the vendor. “Unfortunately, even such a great beauty as yours cannot reverse the will of the crown.”
She could practically feel Ajax at her back. Glancing over her shoulder, she found that he was indeed standing just a few feet away. Aea gestured him forward. It was not assured that this would work at all. A number of things could go wrong, but she did know that the king’s orders superseded all others and she was counting on that. She only hoped she did not get caught in a lie, for a flogging was something she very much wished to avoid.
As Ajax stepped up behind her, she flicked her hand to the merchant, copying movements and impressions she'd observed a dozen times over from the Queen when the woman happened by. “See to it that your inventory goes directly to the Kotas manor. Ajax, give this gentleman a receipt and a deposit. You’ll report to the front gate and be directed from there, sir.”
She flicked her gaze back toward the Thanasi lord and smiled, “I am sorry to inconvenience you. But I’m sure you understand. People are dying, my lord, and we’re donating to those most in need during these trying times. If your household requires fruit, I’m certain arrangements could be made.”
Hunger was an old friend. In the winter, when travelers were scarce and the orchards stood bare, when the fish gathered in the bowls of the sea and stayed far from the banks, sometimes they went hungry. One of her uncles would inevitably wander into the city and come back with bread and dried meat, but not until they were sure they could not get food without spending coin. Sometimes it took days to ensure such things.
Her uncles were dead. The days of living on the road and slaughtering for sustenance were behind her. Now, in a most unlikely turn of fortune, Aea was employed by the ruling house of Colchis. She did not know how she got here. She was sure she didn't deserve it. But she was here, and just in time. It was moments such as these when she looked to the sky and wondered...were the gods there? Did one push her fate?
Had she lived on the road now, she was sure she would have been asked to do the one thing she would never willingly do. If it had not been for her family's slaughter, she wouldn't have accepted the princess' generous offer, and she would even now be lying on her back for a few owls. But she was not. Instead, she ate well, bathed in a tub, and wore clean clothes of the finest material every day. She could ask for whatever she needed and it would be provided within a few hours. And all without compromising her self-worth.
Even then, she did not take advantage of it. She wore the simple white chiton expected of a retainer, wore a simple white tunic when Asia wished to go traipsing through the wood, wore a simple sword and her simple daggers, ate one serving at meal time, and was content that all her needs were filled.
She came to the market today to fetch a few herbs for Asia’s tonic. The princess had been bedridden for weeks now, and Aea was worried. Her health took a steep decline a little after the feast, and it had only worsened. The surgeons couldn’t offer explanation, only treat the symptoms and hope the Gods took pity on the royal. Aea did not know what she would do if the princess died. Death was usually something she could control, whether by thrusting forward or staying her hand. Not this. She let herself get attached to the princess because she thought she could trust the love that might settle there. If she died, though, it was yet another that was taken from Aea.
Having no other option, she prayed at the temples and she searched out wise women and apothecaries on her own time, looking for hidden knowledge, unturned stones, options nobody considered. Yet still, there was nothing she could do.
Aea stood with her arms crossed, her eyes glued to the guard exchanging money with the herb merchant. Ajax had to come with her because many of the stalls might try and cheat her out of a sale. Some stalls would even raise a price because of her sex.
And she had to pretend that she wouldn’t just steal the goods anyway because what she wouldn’t admit to Ajax or any other was that she did not know the value of goods. She lived in the forest for so long, had never purchased anything to begin with, that she did not even know the cost of a loaf of bread.
But she knew how much coin she’d given Ajax, and she watched him closely to ensure each one was accounted for. People were going hungry, none of the commoners knew why, but Aea knew. She wasn't going to blindly trust in Ajax's integrity.
This lack of food might have been attributed to a drought if Colchis grew any crops to begin with. No, instead they were running out of food because a shipment of payment had gone missing—she learned such things by standing too close to rooms women were not supposed to go. Fucking nonsense. Never had she been told she could not do something because of the thing between her legs. As if it made her less capable of understanding.
But it was not something she could change. Yet. She was working on it in her own way. For now, she knew what happened, and through experience, she could predict what would occur as a result if things weren’t fixed swiftly.
Ajax thanked the merchant and moved from the herb stall to Aea, holding out his purchases. Her white epiblema was drawn over her head and across the lower half of her face, and as checked the basket, she drew the material down just enough to smell each uncorked bottle, ensuring they weren’t some other plant passed off as what was needed.
Everything looked to be in order. Aea dropped the herbs back in the basket and glanced at Ajax long enough to ensure his chlamys hadn’t slipped to reveal the insignia hiding beneath—her insistence. Once people began to go hungry, they oft looked for someone to fix their empty bellies. And when it could not be fixed, they looked for someone to blame. If they were hungry enough, they looked for someone to eat. Sometimes the blamed party and the eaten party were one in the same.
Aea wasn’t so far removed from poverty that she did not consider herself a penniless peon. She knew how they thought, and so she knew carrying the royal insignia at this time was far more dangerous than posing as a common hunter.
“We’re done.” Aea intoned, turning away from the guard to foot a path back to the palace. Ajax, big as an ox and almost as talkative as one, grunted. She hypothesized that he actually had his own language and so she oft kept count of his grunts and hums to categorize them accordingly.
Big booming voices hawking their wares pinged off every surface available, bidding cries, laughing gaggles of women, shrieking children, bleating goats, and clapping hands twisted round and round into a most belligerent symphony.
Life existed here in the market. Joy and long days when Ares took his leisure in hibernation. Days like this should be grasped and held tender to the breast, for the war season would be upon them sooner than they knew, but not before sickness rode to battle against them on winter winds.
And yet it was a farce. For underneath all of it was dulling skin, protruding rib bones, gaunt cheeks, rumbling stomachs, and parched tongues. Everyone was pretending normalcy for the sake of their nerves. If they admitted that the hunger would last, they would panic. The weakest were already beginning to weaken and die. The homeless congested around the palace and royal houses, their mood brewing darker by the day.
She took the initiative in checking the nearer royal houses to take note of daily changes in the crowds around them. Unsurprisingly, those numbers coincided with the increase in guards protecting the manors.
A bad idea. More guards drew even thicker lines between the nobles and the commoners and caused old resentments to surface. If they must increase them, they should have done so from within the walls.
Ajax grunted, the sound turning into a sardonic huff through his nostrils. “Thanasi.”
Aea frowned at him, then followed his gaze. It should go without saying that he was taller than her, most men were. Due to such an inconvenience, she could not see over the crowd as he did and so did not know what had him so irritated. She did, however, know what ‘Thanasi’ meant. A royal house, the patriarch half-dead and the children mired in all sorts of ridiculous rumors that required a great loss of logic to believe.
Curious, Aea stopped attempting to see over the crowd and instead wound through the warm market bodies, sliding through sun-baked arms and quarry-solid torsos until she caught a flash of scarlet that was far cleaner and richer than any blood hues in the vicinity. Finally, she emerged from the gathered citizens as if breaking the surface of the sea and found herself standing at a trickling fountain that had once bloomed strong with water. She saw him then.
Lush black hair bounced and waved with each measured step and flawless fabric danced about his feet and shoulders like dark clouds threaded with glittering beads of winking metal. Jewels glittered from his arms, his ears, his hair, and when he looked at something or someone just past her, his eyes caught the sun and though he was not close, it was not difficult to see the fine blends and curves of his eye paint.
The crowd did not seem to quiet at his arrival—they did quiet. Static crackled along the back of Aea’s neck as the mood of the crowd dipped upon the display of such fortunes when the entire city gradually went hungry.
A beautiful creature, one she’d seen before. There was no mistaking his hair or his carriage, and now she bore witness to his fine bone structure and wickedly sharp features. As perfect as a dream, and apparently as foolish as one as well. Surely he knew what was happening in the world around him. Was he flirting with death or flashing his wealth for no other reason save cruelty? She knew the rumors, and the latter would match the Thanasi reputation accordingly, but people were not so simple as that. Even if he were cruel, there was a reason for it. There was always a reason.
Ajax emerged from the crowd and she glanced at him from the corner of her vision. Technically, he was in charge of their little outing, but he generally just followed her around and made purchases when needed. She doubted he would raise a fuss now. And if he did, well...she would cross that bridge when and if they arrived at it.
Aea twisted through the crowd again, rounding a path until she positioned herself behind the lord. She watched him as he moved and interacted with the world around him, fascinated by the way he conducted himself. Of all the royals she met, and there weren’t many, they all seemed to center themselves around the ideals of honor and duty. She liked that about them, enjoyed the ease and novelty in knowing they weren’t inclined to violence. But this royal...
“I’m afraid the cotton has yet to come in due to the shortages, my Lord. But the silk…” The lord spoke with a textile merchant, and the merchant himself seemed somewhat perturbed by his lacking inventory.
“I want the cotton sent to me the moment it arrives. Send it with the silk and ensure it reaches my home as soon as possible. I am not prepared to wait, and I do not care how much it costs to ensure I have it.”
Aea’s eyebrows slowly crawled up her face. Just as soon as the Thanasi made his order, he was off again, sparing only a single-word order to the guard who accompanied him. “Pay.”
“Miss Aea,” Ajax called. He caught up to her and she blinked before moving her attention from the lord to the Kotas guard. He’d never used her name before. Upon closer inspection of his expression, he seemed miffed, though the only thing that gave it away was the tilt of his usually placid expression.
“I’m almost done.” She said, looking back at the lord as he approached what looked to be a fruit vendor. She didn’t know what, exactly, she was doing, but she was loath to simply abandon the market without having first investigated the strange and otherworldly creature drifting among the sea of hungry commoners as if death and dismemberment could never touch him.
“Which Thanasi is that?” she asked.
Ajax didn’t answer her for a moment, possibly thinking deeply on a recall, possibly unwilling to disclose the information. But then he muttered, “His Lordship Mihail of Thanasi, birthed son of Dionysios of Thanasi and Ulla of Kotas.”
Aea did not realize the Kotas and Thanasi were so closely related. Interesting.
“Go bring the herbs back to the palace,” she said without looking at him. “I want to browse.”
Ajax looked at her, looked at the fruit stand, frowned in concentration, then looked at her once more. Aea did not wait for his decision, instead, she dissolved into the mass of bodies surrounding the fruit stand and wedged out of it just behind the Thanasi lord. His guard, dressed in red and black, seemed to only need to straighten his shoulders and the crowd around them scattered like pigeons. Aea prowled at the edge of the guard’s reach and looked past him as if she weren’t trying to get to the fruit stand.
A woman stepped before the lord and cried out for her children, but her dirge fell on deaf ears as the Thanasi lord shoved past. The corner of Aea’s lips twitched. Unfortunately, upon taking residence in the city, Aea soon discovered it was not easy to ignore hungry children. Even when she knew the parents prodded them into begging, bulging little bellies full of worms bothered her greatly. It wasn’t so long ago when she was that child.
“Adonis. Go find that jeweller I like and, hmm. I want everything with red gemstones. Ooh...and blue. I am having the most darling thoughts for Maria. Go." The lord said. Aea's mind meshed the voice with the face and she would not soon forget the beat nor the melody of his verbal expression.
The guard departed, passing Aea without so much as a glance. And why would he? Her clothes, though dove-white, were plain and unadorned, her face remained covered, and her Kotas emblem stayed hidden beneath the folds of her epiblema. Before he breezed past her completely, Aea canted her hips toward him and bumped the guard.
There was a moment where she thought he might strike her, but her quick apologies and wide hand gestures distracted him for a few breaths and she was able to slide her smallest dagger from her leather wrist-band to her palm and slice the bag of coin from his hip. Aea bowed apologetically and the guard departed. Once he turned his head, she slipped the epiblema from her head and shoulders and dipped her fingers into the Thanasi’s purse. She found a coin, didn’t look at what it was, and pressed it into the woman’s stomach as she passed Aea.
The coin disappeared from her fingers and it was quick work to wrap the slit rope to her leather belt and tie the epiblema about her round hips to hide it. Often, when others paid little mind to her covered face, revealing the whole of it was enough of a disguise to dissuade recognition.
“Until this ordeal is over, I want all of your quince shipments directed to the Thanasi home. In fact, I should like all your shipments directed towards my home until further notice — is that understood? I will have the staff made aware of the arrangements. I assure you this contract shall be exceedingly profitable to you, if you behave appropriately.”
She discovered something quite odd about herself not two months before. No matter how monsterous a person seemingly was, she could not find it within herself to completely dislike them. Instead, she found fascination in their shared similarities, wonder at where such beastliness came from.
Even in this, when she bore witness to such audacity. Behaving appropriately...what did that mean? What would happen to his contract should he behave inappropriately? Why quince? What would he do with all of these shipments? He was so slim it was difficult to imagine him eating them all himself.
Perhaps he was buying it for his royal household. The staff needed to eat as well, after all. She was prepared to believe that assumption over all others, but his behavior toward the woman just moments before, his family's reputation, his expectant tone…she was missing a variable in this formula.
The beautiful man had her complete focus now, and so all other worries and questions fell away in favor of him. Not even his sibylline presence could distract her from her compulsion to dig further, and though a glance from him might have stirred an allurement before, no amount of charm could eat away her objective intrigue. Besides, she had practice ignoring such things now. She couldn’t be controlled and strung along by an enchanting smile.
Aea took a deep breath and quashed the excited flip of her stomach. It was her way to dance with things that she should fear and shun those that seemed harmless. Even now, she knew she should leave well enough alone, but the impulse to continue was far too strong. She wanted to know more of this Thanasi man who’d so thoroughly distracted her a month and a half past, and she would not discover more by standing idle.
“Lord Thanasi. What an honor it is to finally meet you. Fables of your grace do not touch the reality of your presence.” She was bold as she stepped beside him, sparing a flick of a glance to the merchant. She held her shoulders back and her chin proud as she knew to do, taking care to ensure her red-hued bear fibule was on full display for the vendor. “Unfortunately, even such a great beauty as yours cannot reverse the will of the crown.”
She could practically feel Ajax at her back. Glancing over her shoulder, she found that he was indeed standing just a few feet away. Aea gestured him forward. It was not assured that this would work at all. A number of things could go wrong, but she did know that the king’s orders superseded all others and she was counting on that. She only hoped she did not get caught in a lie, for a flogging was something she very much wished to avoid.
As Ajax stepped up behind her, she flicked her hand to the merchant, copying movements and impressions she'd observed a dozen times over from the Queen when the woman happened by. “See to it that your inventory goes directly to the Kotas manor. Ajax, give this gentleman a receipt and a deposit. You’ll report to the front gate and be directed from there, sir.”
She flicked her gaze back toward the Thanasi lord and smiled, “I am sorry to inconvenience you. But I’m sure you understand. People are dying, my lord, and we’re donating to those most in need during these trying times. If your household requires fruit, I’m certain arrangements could be made.”
If there was one thing that did not work on Mihail, it was undue flattery. It was not for lack of vanity — he was certainly vain and enjoyed acknowledgement of his prettiness when he desired it — but there was a discomfort in sycophancy from those with which he was unacquainted and particularly so when he was quite certain it was not done out of any genuine desire to compliment and, rather, as part of a suspected ploy to claim his undeserved attention. He had seen it done a thousand times before, and it had not succeeded in claiming his kindness then either (though he tended to find he had so little to spare that this was wholly unsurprising). Besides, here she stood attempting to steal his shipments of fruit when he had already made a clear arrangement with the vendor before them. That would not do in the slightest. Not when the lord had already set his intentions for the day.
He offered his free hand in his typically disdainful manner of introduction, painted fingertips pointed downwards, barely glancing at her when he was far more preoccupied with the nonsense she had just delivered to the merchant. He did not care to be undermined and especially not by some insolent messenger who did not know her place, and he was not the kind who would easily turn to pity by the stories of some pathetic peasants who could not find a means of survival when the world had turned against them. Poverty did not merit passiveness.
“I do not understand, and I am vastly uninterested in the ‘will of the crown’,” Mihail informed the woman, tone turned back to the semi-imperious one he favoured when staff were proving thoroughly useless. “I did not come to the market to be informed that people are dying nor to be told that I cannot have what I want. I came to the market because I could not break my fast and, while I reasonably trust the staff to make accommodations as necessary, these shortages mean that I cannot be certain that my facial shall be without issue this afternoon.” And, though the youngest Thanasi was more than capable of putting up with a lot of nonsense – he might have been intensely impatient, but he was simultaneously excellent at biding his time — he did not care to have his daily routine interrupted. There was great comfort in structure, and he tended to plan the impulsiveness of his days around the reassurance of such. He pressed two fingers lightly against the softness of his cheek, pouting though there was truly nothing amiss. “My skin is dying.”
As such, he was unamused by all of this.
Mihail set down the remains of the nectarine, assuming vaguely that the merchant would have some system for disposing of half-consumed fruit, and wiped his fingers neatly on the ends of some precariously hanging cloth. His gaze flickered to the generous pile of coins he had deposited on the counter and then to the merchant himself, an eyebrow quirking upwards in challenge. “I have already paid. We have a contract and I can assure you that if you do not honour it, then you shall find yourself rather unable to honour anything in the future.” One hand slipped down to find his waistline, resting on the jutting-out bone of his hip, teasing the spearpoint dagger he favoured for such outings in case any trouble were to occur. “Thanasis do not care for their generosity to be ignored.” Such kindness, after all, was not common.
He fixed the man with a well-practised glare, the expression only hardening as the vendor made to speak. ‘I cannot contradict a direct request from the crown, my Lord.’
“It is not a direct request from the crown. It is a silly girl attempting to undermine my authority. We may all wear a pin and say we came in the name of any royal house, but it does not mean anything of value.” Mihail allowed his gaze to drift back towards the girl in question for a second, eyeing her fibulae and the guard at her side. “I can assure you that if my cousin had ordered your specific inventory to be sent to his home, then it would have been rather a more dramatic affair. Not this.” He pressed a finger pointedly onto the countertop. “Your inventory will be sent to the Thanasi house immediately, and if it is not there by the time I return home, then on your life be it.”
Adonis made the choice to reappear then, inexplicably not laden with any of the jewels he had been instructed to collect. Inconvenienced as he had been by the situation thus far, Mihail found he had no momentarily lost interest in that particular purchase (it was not as though he could not later visit the jeweller himself to obtain whatever he wanted). Instead, he gestured towards the fruit vendor with some dismissal, snapping fingers to indicate direction. “Handle this. I have neither the time nor the energy. Certainly not the interest.” He was done with it now. There was no need to expel effort on such things.
Once the merchant had expressed some degree of acknowledgement and his guard was handling the matter as appropriate, Mihail turned back to the girl who had so rudely chosen to interrupt him and his shopping. He gave her an appraising glance, attempting to decide whether he was interested in pursuing this conversation much further, then deciding that it might prove at least temporarily entertaining. She had, after all, dared to speak to him as though he were nothing, and there was something admirable to be said about somebody who would openly approach a Thanasi as such.
Both his hands returned to their more comfortable position on his waist, his lips twisted into his traditionally disdainful smirk, though his expression was rather less than pleased. “Who are you?” And then, because his curiosity had mildly grown the better of him despite the distaste for unnecessary displays of sycophancy: “What fables?”
Mihail did not tend to make a habit of waiting for others when he had plans. Sparing a look to make sure that Adonis was doing as he should and would continue to fight the merchant on the purchase as was necessary, he made a vague gesture for the woman to follow him. “If you are so bothered by the fate of the peasantry, then I tend to find that there are plenty of stalls here that cater more precisely to their wants. They do sell grains and whatnot.” He drifted relatively easily through the crowd when they were wise enough to step out of his way, although he imagined it was partially due to the elegant nature with which he conducted himself and the obvious cost of his clothing (the needy were always so jealous). There was no particular direction to his movements, but he did not want to waste hours hovering by the same stand and waiting for the resolution of some drama. “But their pesky dramas should not invalidate my needs. I need my quince, and I rather prefer to make a habit of fulfilling my desires.”
Az
Mihail
Az
Mihail
Awards
First Impressions:Slim; Broken nose, piercing gaze, red-painted nails.
Address: Your His Lordship
If there was one thing that did not work on Mihail, it was undue flattery. It was not for lack of vanity — he was certainly vain and enjoyed acknowledgement of his prettiness when he desired it — but there was a discomfort in sycophancy from those with which he was unacquainted and particularly so when he was quite certain it was not done out of any genuine desire to compliment and, rather, as part of a suspected ploy to claim his undeserved attention. He had seen it done a thousand times before, and it had not succeeded in claiming his kindness then either (though he tended to find he had so little to spare that this was wholly unsurprising). Besides, here she stood attempting to steal his shipments of fruit when he had already made a clear arrangement with the vendor before them. That would not do in the slightest. Not when the lord had already set his intentions for the day.
He offered his free hand in his typically disdainful manner of introduction, painted fingertips pointed downwards, barely glancing at her when he was far more preoccupied with the nonsense she had just delivered to the merchant. He did not care to be undermined and especially not by some insolent messenger who did not know her place, and he was not the kind who would easily turn to pity by the stories of some pathetic peasants who could not find a means of survival when the world had turned against them. Poverty did not merit passiveness.
“I do not understand, and I am vastly uninterested in the ‘will of the crown’,” Mihail informed the woman, tone turned back to the semi-imperious one he favoured when staff were proving thoroughly useless. “I did not come to the market to be informed that people are dying nor to be told that I cannot have what I want. I came to the market because I could not break my fast and, while I reasonably trust the staff to make accommodations as necessary, these shortages mean that I cannot be certain that my facial shall be without issue this afternoon.” And, though the youngest Thanasi was more than capable of putting up with a lot of nonsense – he might have been intensely impatient, but he was simultaneously excellent at biding his time — he did not care to have his daily routine interrupted. There was great comfort in structure, and he tended to plan the impulsiveness of his days around the reassurance of such. He pressed two fingers lightly against the softness of his cheek, pouting though there was truly nothing amiss. “My skin is dying.”
As such, he was unamused by all of this.
Mihail set down the remains of the nectarine, assuming vaguely that the merchant would have some system for disposing of half-consumed fruit, and wiped his fingers neatly on the ends of some precariously hanging cloth. His gaze flickered to the generous pile of coins he had deposited on the counter and then to the merchant himself, an eyebrow quirking upwards in challenge. “I have already paid. We have a contract and I can assure you that if you do not honour it, then you shall find yourself rather unable to honour anything in the future.” One hand slipped down to find his waistline, resting on the jutting-out bone of his hip, teasing the spearpoint dagger he favoured for such outings in case any trouble were to occur. “Thanasis do not care for their generosity to be ignored.” Such kindness, after all, was not common.
He fixed the man with a well-practised glare, the expression only hardening as the vendor made to speak. ‘I cannot contradict a direct request from the crown, my Lord.’
“It is not a direct request from the crown. It is a silly girl attempting to undermine my authority. We may all wear a pin and say we came in the name of any royal house, but it does not mean anything of value.” Mihail allowed his gaze to drift back towards the girl in question for a second, eyeing her fibulae and the guard at her side. “I can assure you that if my cousin had ordered your specific inventory to be sent to his home, then it would have been rather a more dramatic affair. Not this.” He pressed a finger pointedly onto the countertop. “Your inventory will be sent to the Thanasi house immediately, and if it is not there by the time I return home, then on your life be it.”
Adonis made the choice to reappear then, inexplicably not laden with any of the jewels he had been instructed to collect. Inconvenienced as he had been by the situation thus far, Mihail found he had no momentarily lost interest in that particular purchase (it was not as though he could not later visit the jeweller himself to obtain whatever he wanted). Instead, he gestured towards the fruit vendor with some dismissal, snapping fingers to indicate direction. “Handle this. I have neither the time nor the energy. Certainly not the interest.” He was done with it now. There was no need to expel effort on such things.
Once the merchant had expressed some degree of acknowledgement and his guard was handling the matter as appropriate, Mihail turned back to the girl who had so rudely chosen to interrupt him and his shopping. He gave her an appraising glance, attempting to decide whether he was interested in pursuing this conversation much further, then deciding that it might prove at least temporarily entertaining. She had, after all, dared to speak to him as though he were nothing, and there was something admirable to be said about somebody who would openly approach a Thanasi as such.
Both his hands returned to their more comfortable position on his waist, his lips twisted into his traditionally disdainful smirk, though his expression was rather less than pleased. “Who are you?” And then, because his curiosity had mildly grown the better of him despite the distaste for unnecessary displays of sycophancy: “What fables?”
Mihail did not tend to make a habit of waiting for others when he had plans. Sparing a look to make sure that Adonis was doing as he should and would continue to fight the merchant on the purchase as was necessary, he made a vague gesture for the woman to follow him. “If you are so bothered by the fate of the peasantry, then I tend to find that there are plenty of stalls here that cater more precisely to their wants. They do sell grains and whatnot.” He drifted relatively easily through the crowd when they were wise enough to step out of his way, although he imagined it was partially due to the elegant nature with which he conducted himself and the obvious cost of his clothing (the needy were always so jealous). There was no particular direction to his movements, but he did not want to waste hours hovering by the same stand and waiting for the resolution of some drama. “But their pesky dramas should not invalidate my needs. I need my quince, and I rather prefer to make a habit of fulfilling my desires.”
If there was one thing that did not work on Mihail, it was undue flattery. It was not for lack of vanity — he was certainly vain and enjoyed acknowledgement of his prettiness when he desired it — but there was a discomfort in sycophancy from those with which he was unacquainted and particularly so when he was quite certain it was not done out of any genuine desire to compliment and, rather, as part of a suspected ploy to claim his undeserved attention. He had seen it done a thousand times before, and it had not succeeded in claiming his kindness then either (though he tended to find he had so little to spare that this was wholly unsurprising). Besides, here she stood attempting to steal his shipments of fruit when he had already made a clear arrangement with the vendor before them. That would not do in the slightest. Not when the lord had already set his intentions for the day.
He offered his free hand in his typically disdainful manner of introduction, painted fingertips pointed downwards, barely glancing at her when he was far more preoccupied with the nonsense she had just delivered to the merchant. He did not care to be undermined and especially not by some insolent messenger who did not know her place, and he was not the kind who would easily turn to pity by the stories of some pathetic peasants who could not find a means of survival when the world had turned against them. Poverty did not merit passiveness.
“I do not understand, and I am vastly uninterested in the ‘will of the crown’,” Mihail informed the woman, tone turned back to the semi-imperious one he favoured when staff were proving thoroughly useless. “I did not come to the market to be informed that people are dying nor to be told that I cannot have what I want. I came to the market because I could not break my fast and, while I reasonably trust the staff to make accommodations as necessary, these shortages mean that I cannot be certain that my facial shall be without issue this afternoon.” And, though the youngest Thanasi was more than capable of putting up with a lot of nonsense – he might have been intensely impatient, but he was simultaneously excellent at biding his time — he did not care to have his daily routine interrupted. There was great comfort in structure, and he tended to plan the impulsiveness of his days around the reassurance of such. He pressed two fingers lightly against the softness of his cheek, pouting though there was truly nothing amiss. “My skin is dying.”
As such, he was unamused by all of this.
Mihail set down the remains of the nectarine, assuming vaguely that the merchant would have some system for disposing of half-consumed fruit, and wiped his fingers neatly on the ends of some precariously hanging cloth. His gaze flickered to the generous pile of coins he had deposited on the counter and then to the merchant himself, an eyebrow quirking upwards in challenge. “I have already paid. We have a contract and I can assure you that if you do not honour it, then you shall find yourself rather unable to honour anything in the future.” One hand slipped down to find his waistline, resting on the jutting-out bone of his hip, teasing the spearpoint dagger he favoured for such outings in case any trouble were to occur. “Thanasis do not care for their generosity to be ignored.” Such kindness, after all, was not common.
He fixed the man with a well-practised glare, the expression only hardening as the vendor made to speak. ‘I cannot contradict a direct request from the crown, my Lord.’
“It is not a direct request from the crown. It is a silly girl attempting to undermine my authority. We may all wear a pin and say we came in the name of any royal house, but it does not mean anything of value.” Mihail allowed his gaze to drift back towards the girl in question for a second, eyeing her fibulae and the guard at her side. “I can assure you that if my cousin had ordered your specific inventory to be sent to his home, then it would have been rather a more dramatic affair. Not this.” He pressed a finger pointedly onto the countertop. “Your inventory will be sent to the Thanasi house immediately, and if it is not there by the time I return home, then on your life be it.”
Adonis made the choice to reappear then, inexplicably not laden with any of the jewels he had been instructed to collect. Inconvenienced as he had been by the situation thus far, Mihail found he had no momentarily lost interest in that particular purchase (it was not as though he could not later visit the jeweller himself to obtain whatever he wanted). Instead, he gestured towards the fruit vendor with some dismissal, snapping fingers to indicate direction. “Handle this. I have neither the time nor the energy. Certainly not the interest.” He was done with it now. There was no need to expel effort on such things.
Once the merchant had expressed some degree of acknowledgement and his guard was handling the matter as appropriate, Mihail turned back to the girl who had so rudely chosen to interrupt him and his shopping. He gave her an appraising glance, attempting to decide whether he was interested in pursuing this conversation much further, then deciding that it might prove at least temporarily entertaining. She had, after all, dared to speak to him as though he were nothing, and there was something admirable to be said about somebody who would openly approach a Thanasi as such.
Both his hands returned to their more comfortable position on his waist, his lips twisted into his traditionally disdainful smirk, though his expression was rather less than pleased. “Who are you?” And then, because his curiosity had mildly grown the better of him despite the distaste for unnecessary displays of sycophancy: “What fables?”
Mihail did not tend to make a habit of waiting for others when he had plans. Sparing a look to make sure that Adonis was doing as he should and would continue to fight the merchant on the purchase as was necessary, he made a vague gesture for the woman to follow him. “If you are so bothered by the fate of the peasantry, then I tend to find that there are plenty of stalls here that cater more precisely to their wants. They do sell grains and whatnot.” He drifted relatively easily through the crowd when they were wise enough to step out of his way, although he imagined it was partially due to the elegant nature with which he conducted himself and the obvious cost of his clothing (the needy were always so jealous). There was no particular direction to his movements, but he did not want to waste hours hovering by the same stand and waiting for the resolution of some drama. “But their pesky dramas should not invalidate my needs. I need my quince, and I rather prefer to make a habit of fulfilling my desires.”
The Thanasi lord thrust a hand toward Aea and she looked down, churning thoughts clipped and disallowed their flight. His hands were so elegant and slim, hardly the palms of a laborer or a warrior. Each knucklebone arched delicately, one after another in perfectly symmetrical hills of alabaster and jewel. And the nails were painted. Her gaze flicked back up and traveled slowly across his features. He held his chin high, his eyes passing over her with the most minimal of acknowledgements. Like she was nothing but the dirt that dare lay beneath his sandal.
“I do not understand, and I am vastly uninterested in the ‘will of the crown’. I did not come to the market to be informed that people are dying nor to be told that I cannot have what I want. I came to the market because I could not break my fast and, while I reasonably trust the staff to make accommodations as necessary, these shortages mean that I cannot be certain that my facial shall be without issue this afternoon.” Two long fingers dimpled his flesh, sculpted lips pulling into a pout. “My skin is dying.”
Her expression did not betray her thoughts. She spared a final glance at the lord’s hand before deciding on the proper greeting. She gave it a shallow nod of acknowledgement coupled with a small bend to the knee but otherwise left it dangling prettily in the wind. It was not certain to her whether she was supposed to touch his hand as she might a lord or let her palm hover beneath his fingers as she might a lady, and so she settled on something vaguely acceptable.
As the Lord spoke, her own hands folded before her hips. Though his tone bordered on ire, she was not certain if he was joking or not. Dasmo had a dry sense of humor such as that, so she would not write it off.
A bite of fruit, not even halfway gone, and he set it back upon the counter and turned away. He was…done? Daintily, he slicked the fruit juices from his fingers with a nailed cloth and turned from her to speak with the merchant.
“I have already paid,” Mihail said. “We have a contract and I can assure you that if you do not honour it, then you shall find yourself rather unable to honour anything in the future.”
There was a great amount of back and forth between the lord and the merchant, much posturing and threatening involved. Her eyebrows jumped up when he named her a ‘silly girl.' That was a first. He could have said 'stupid girl' as people tended to say, but he did not. He was calling her bluff, however.
Curious. What to do about this?
She could let the matter go. He was, after all, a lord and would most certainly report her behavior. Aea had not yet been imprisoned or flogged but the threat was there all the same. He didn't seem like an entirely powerful lord, though. Silly, even. Who got upset over such trivial things as quinces and...facials, was it?
He might be very powerful, though, his word taken in serious measures. But he was so young. Could someone under thirty truly have any weight to their words? Was this worth the skin on her back?
"I can assure you that if my cousin had ordered your specific inventory to be sent to his home, then it would have been rather a more dramatic affair. Not this.” He pressed a finger pointedly onto the countertop. “Your inventory will be sent to the Thanasi house immediately, and if it is not there by the time I return home, then on your life be it.”
Aea had watched and listened, patiently observing his hot temper and choice of words. His movements. He seemed to have something hidden beneath his clothing but he could have been fondling his waist in irritation.
She folded her arms and rested her elbow in the crook of the other, two fingers curled against her lips in thought, quiet as he ran out of fire to fuel his temper.
His guard materialized from the crowd and her eyes bounced from him to Ajax, her own brooding companion looking undecided himself. That did not paint a very convincing picture, nor did it bode well for her. If he ruined it, she would find a different guard to come to market with her from now on and he would lose the extra hour of relief from his standing post.
Lord Thanasi waved to the vendor as a banished thought and ordered his man to handle the obtaining of his fruit.
The guard turned to the merchant. The Lord turn to her. Aea kept her eyes on Lord Thanasi and pinched back on a smile when he gave her a pretty, hateful smirk. She fluctuated between amusement, bafflement, and offence but eventually settled somewhere on the axis of the three.
"Who are you?" He sneered. After a pause, he added, "What fables?"
Aea uncurled her fingers and her crossed arms swept down to her sides. She bent at the knee and executed a dainty bow that had taken two weeks and a dozen laughing fits from the princess to perfect.
"Cassera of Thessmea, once a bard, temporarily a royal fruit fetcher. It's a pleasure to meet you, my lord." Now standing straight again, she clasped her hands before her sternum and smiled. "And the only fables worth listening to are mine. I saw you at the peace festival and Apollo would not let me sleep until I made a composition."
And now they walked. She did not allow her surprise to surface, but rather let her curiosity drive her forward. She cast a glance over her shoulder at Ajax, who no longer look confused but angry. That should have been a signal to halt while she still could, but Aea only took it as a sign of mild displeasure at her decisions.
"See to it the shipment is delivered to the Kotas manor." She glanced at the handsome Thanasi guard for a fleeting moment, then back to Ajax, "Break his hands if you must."
She turned away from the guards as if the matter was beyond her concern now, that she was confident in her orders. Truth be told, Ajax could very well drag her back to the palace and report her himself. He did not trust her to know what she was doing. But she had her reasons, and she would make sure nothing befell him. The only way he would learn that was by going along with her rather than buck like a horse.
She and Kaia still hadn't dug up any of their family's money, and there were some thirty-odd jars buried in or near Midas. The quince would come, she would pay, Kaia would scowl and think it a foolish waste of money, they would argue, a resolution would be met, and that would be that. No reason to let her employers know she'd used their name to take the quince.
In any case, it wasn't as if it were a purchase without merit. Unless it was...
"If you are so bothered by the fate of the peasantry, then I tend to find that there are plenty of stalls here that cater more precisely to their wants. They do sell grains and whatnot.”
He glided as he walked, and though her attention was forward she gave rapt focus to the corner of her vision.
"But their pesky dramas should not invalidate my needs. I need my quince, and I rather prefer to make a habit of fulfilling my desires.”
Another smothering of her expression. Her lips did not draw down, nor her brow, nor did she speak her thoughts aloud. When she began this, it had only been out of curiosity and impulse. Now…Gods help her, but it was the principal of it. Her father was sputtering from the belly of Hades.
Aea inclined her head softly in acknowledgement because he was not incorrect. A moment of soft quiet swallowed them as they strolled, even the chitter of the crowds seemed small compared to this brief, thin breath in time. Possibly because of the risk it carried.
For such a flawless creature, even the Lord’s elegant carriage and manner of speech could not hide his boorish manners and inhumanity. Someone was either incredibly cruel to him as a child to wrap himself in such a disdainful armor of thorns, or someone had told him he was divine.
She was not sure how the nobles and royals thought of themselves. Panos of Marikas had positioned himself as ordained by the Gods, yet Rene of Nikolas treated commoners as if there was little difference between them. Perhaps Lord Thanasi believed himself favored of the Gods to be born in his station and deserving of everything. Perhaps he even was. Perhaps she would be struck dead from this offence, but more than likely she would survive the day.
She'd never seen anyone else immediately struck with lightning or combust into flame. She had, however, seen someone dismissed from service. The Kotas were a far more immediate worry than the Gods.
She should drop this charade now and be on her way, tell Ajax to nevermind the quince. That would be much safer than the possible consequences. But...as long as it didn't reach the king, queen, or crown prince, she should be relatively clear.
Fuck. There was still a possibility of a report. She had to consider whether this attempt at pragmatic preservation of the populace was worth the risk of being incorrect, spending a large portion of money, and the punishment of being caught in a lie.
"You're right, my lord." She watched the crowd as they passed, her eyes rolling over the far stalls and the people clustered around it. "But the grains are nearly gone. They did not order for this specific shipment, they just want preservable sustenance because the fruits and vegetables are gone. People are not buying quince or honey or any sweet things because they are more worried about buying things that fill them. The issue is that once the grains run out, there will be nothing at all. Save for the things people did not or could not buy before. Like quince, which can keep in storage for months rather than days such as apples and the like. The people's dramas are your dramas when the food is gone completely. See there-"
She pointed to a dust-covered woman surrounded by a gaggle of children. The woman's nose wrinkled at them as they passed and her eyes darted into the ground rather than sear into Aea and Lord Thanasi. "The children will go first. The smart ones will find dandelions and maple, the strong ones will catch frogs and cats. But most of them will sicken and die. And when the women and men are starving and grieving, they will be angry. You're a striking beauty, my lord, even if you were dressed in rags you would be beautiful. Yours is not a face people forget. How many have seen you in the market today? How many heard you declare you were buying all the quince and couldn't be bothered with the trifles of the commoners? Word spreads, so how many people will have heard the tale by dusk?"
She did not understand him. Not even slightly. Greed, she understood wholly. But greed when one was not struggling to live? No, she did not understand that. Taking what one did not need because they were not sure if they would need it to survive the next day, yes. Taking what one did not need when they would not ever need it? No.
"The longer we can feed the peasantry, the more time we have to find the means to fix the food shortage and avoid something like an angry mob coming for the nobles stores. Or worse, the nobles themselves. Slaves and freedmen outnumber the nobility by a staggering amount, and they outnumber the military as well. Swords do no good stabbing at a man if there are five more piling atop you."
She had never been in a national famine before. There was no need when she could just glide upon the sea for richer shores, but she’d been in winter. She’d been stuck in a place because her aunt was dying, the boat broke upon the near cliffs, and there had been nothing to eat in the snow. No game to hunt, no travelers to harry, no towns to thieve, only maple bark. Each day, her family grew more restless and irritable. They ate the goat—the one before Kelosi. They might have eaten Callie had they not been afeared of her sickness. Aea wondered, even now, if they might have eventually eaten her instead.
“Your cousin, my lord, would not make a grand show of buying all of anything in the midst of a famine,” she said.
Although she was learning all she needed to know of how this society operated, she had only been a couple of weeks at absorbing the information. She quite assumed the queen would be in charge of heading this strategy given her husband’s duties encompassed the management of his nobles. That made sense to Aea. The prince saw to the army, the king saw to the provinces, the queen saw to the populace. However, the lord said ‘cousin’ and as far as Aea knew, that could not be the queen…could it?
She was still learning address and verbal etiquette: my lordship, your highness, eyes forward, hands at your sides, do not say ‘fuck’ at any point in time, etcetera. Perhaps once they got past ‘how to read’ she could learn of lineages so that instances such as this didn’t compromise her.
“The agreement would be discreet and quiet. The quince would be stored until the bread was gone, and then it would be rationed. After that, if no relief were in sight, it would be time to indebt ourselves to our neighbors. Or marry them. But-” She shrugged softly, “it’s quite possible that there are better ways of going about this. If you have a better strategy, I’m sure your cousin would be willing to hear it. No good idea was ever executed without first offering it.”
Each and every word of that was an estimated assumption. Most of this conversation was. It was either run a haphazard con or trip ignorantly after him and accept his desires for one over-what she reasoned-was a need of the many. A curiosity that turned into a challenge and then a question of doing the right thing. Which, frankly, she still didn’t know much about. But she did know what hunger felt like, and she did know how angry mortals behaved.
She stopped walking and turned to Lord Thanasi, his beauty no longer blinding but mortal beneath his sharp expression. Aea dipped into another small curtsey, “I’m afraid I must leave, my lord. Her Highness, Princess Athenasia is awaiting her herbs as well. I will have a portion of quince delivered to your home without any cost to you as an apology for your inconvenience."
And if she went back to the fruit stand and saw Ajax empty handed, she was never taking him to market again.
Arra
Aea
Arra
Aea
Awards
First Impressions:Hourglass; Glossy black hair that falls to her hips, piercing blue eyes, a voluptuous figure, and a serious, concentrated expression.
Address: Your
First Impressions:Hourglass; Glossy black hair that falls to her hips, piercing blue eyes, a voluptuous figure, and a serious, concentrated expression.
Address: Your
The Thanasi lord thrust a hand toward Aea and she looked down, churning thoughts clipped and disallowed their flight. His hands were so elegant and slim, hardly the palms of a laborer or a warrior. Each knucklebone arched delicately, one after another in perfectly symmetrical hills of alabaster and jewel. And the nails were painted. Her gaze flicked back up and traveled slowly across his features. He held his chin high, his eyes passing over her with the most minimal of acknowledgements. Like she was nothing but the dirt that dare lay beneath his sandal.
“I do not understand, and I am vastly uninterested in the ‘will of the crown’. I did not come to the market to be informed that people are dying nor to be told that I cannot have what I want. I came to the market because I could not break my fast and, while I reasonably trust the staff to make accommodations as necessary, these shortages mean that I cannot be certain that my facial shall be without issue this afternoon.” Two long fingers dimpled his flesh, sculpted lips pulling into a pout. “My skin is dying.”
Her expression did not betray her thoughts. She spared a final glance at the lord’s hand before deciding on the proper greeting. She gave it a shallow nod of acknowledgement coupled with a small bend to the knee but otherwise left it dangling prettily in the wind. It was not certain to her whether she was supposed to touch his hand as she might a lord or let her palm hover beneath his fingers as she might a lady, and so she settled on something vaguely acceptable.
As the Lord spoke, her own hands folded before her hips. Though his tone bordered on ire, she was not certain if he was joking or not. Dasmo had a dry sense of humor such as that, so she would not write it off.
A bite of fruit, not even halfway gone, and he set it back upon the counter and turned away. He was…done? Daintily, he slicked the fruit juices from his fingers with a nailed cloth and turned from her to speak with the merchant.
“I have already paid,” Mihail said. “We have a contract and I can assure you that if you do not honour it, then you shall find yourself rather unable to honour anything in the future.”
There was a great amount of back and forth between the lord and the merchant, much posturing and threatening involved. Her eyebrows jumped up when he named her a ‘silly girl.' That was a first. He could have said 'stupid girl' as people tended to say, but he did not. He was calling her bluff, however.
Curious. What to do about this?
She could let the matter go. He was, after all, a lord and would most certainly report her behavior. Aea had not yet been imprisoned or flogged but the threat was there all the same. He didn't seem like an entirely powerful lord, though. Silly, even. Who got upset over such trivial things as quinces and...facials, was it?
He might be very powerful, though, his word taken in serious measures. But he was so young. Could someone under thirty truly have any weight to their words? Was this worth the skin on her back?
"I can assure you that if my cousin had ordered your specific inventory to be sent to his home, then it would have been rather a more dramatic affair. Not this.” He pressed a finger pointedly onto the countertop. “Your inventory will be sent to the Thanasi house immediately, and if it is not there by the time I return home, then on your life be it.”
Aea had watched and listened, patiently observing his hot temper and choice of words. His movements. He seemed to have something hidden beneath his clothing but he could have been fondling his waist in irritation.
She folded her arms and rested her elbow in the crook of the other, two fingers curled against her lips in thought, quiet as he ran out of fire to fuel his temper.
His guard materialized from the crowd and her eyes bounced from him to Ajax, her own brooding companion looking undecided himself. That did not paint a very convincing picture, nor did it bode well for her. If he ruined it, she would find a different guard to come to market with her from now on and he would lose the extra hour of relief from his standing post.
Lord Thanasi waved to the vendor as a banished thought and ordered his man to handle the obtaining of his fruit.
The guard turned to the merchant. The Lord turn to her. Aea kept her eyes on Lord Thanasi and pinched back on a smile when he gave her a pretty, hateful smirk. She fluctuated between amusement, bafflement, and offence but eventually settled somewhere on the axis of the three.
"Who are you?" He sneered. After a pause, he added, "What fables?"
Aea uncurled her fingers and her crossed arms swept down to her sides. She bent at the knee and executed a dainty bow that had taken two weeks and a dozen laughing fits from the princess to perfect.
"Cassera of Thessmea, once a bard, temporarily a royal fruit fetcher. It's a pleasure to meet you, my lord." Now standing straight again, she clasped her hands before her sternum and smiled. "And the only fables worth listening to are mine. I saw you at the peace festival and Apollo would not let me sleep until I made a composition."
And now they walked. She did not allow her surprise to surface, but rather let her curiosity drive her forward. She cast a glance over her shoulder at Ajax, who no longer look confused but angry. That should have been a signal to halt while she still could, but Aea only took it as a sign of mild displeasure at her decisions.
"See to it the shipment is delivered to the Kotas manor." She glanced at the handsome Thanasi guard for a fleeting moment, then back to Ajax, "Break his hands if you must."
She turned away from the guards as if the matter was beyond her concern now, that she was confident in her orders. Truth be told, Ajax could very well drag her back to the palace and report her himself. He did not trust her to know what she was doing. But she had her reasons, and she would make sure nothing befell him. The only way he would learn that was by going along with her rather than buck like a horse.
She and Kaia still hadn't dug up any of their family's money, and there were some thirty-odd jars buried in or near Midas. The quince would come, she would pay, Kaia would scowl and think it a foolish waste of money, they would argue, a resolution would be met, and that would be that. No reason to let her employers know she'd used their name to take the quince.
In any case, it wasn't as if it were a purchase without merit. Unless it was...
"If you are so bothered by the fate of the peasantry, then I tend to find that there are plenty of stalls here that cater more precisely to their wants. They do sell grains and whatnot.”
He glided as he walked, and though her attention was forward she gave rapt focus to the corner of her vision.
"But their pesky dramas should not invalidate my needs. I need my quince, and I rather prefer to make a habit of fulfilling my desires.”
Another smothering of her expression. Her lips did not draw down, nor her brow, nor did she speak her thoughts aloud. When she began this, it had only been out of curiosity and impulse. Now…Gods help her, but it was the principal of it. Her father was sputtering from the belly of Hades.
Aea inclined her head softly in acknowledgement because he was not incorrect. A moment of soft quiet swallowed them as they strolled, even the chitter of the crowds seemed small compared to this brief, thin breath in time. Possibly because of the risk it carried.
For such a flawless creature, even the Lord’s elegant carriage and manner of speech could not hide his boorish manners and inhumanity. Someone was either incredibly cruel to him as a child to wrap himself in such a disdainful armor of thorns, or someone had told him he was divine.
She was not sure how the nobles and royals thought of themselves. Panos of Marikas had positioned himself as ordained by the Gods, yet Rene of Nikolas treated commoners as if there was little difference between them. Perhaps Lord Thanasi believed himself favored of the Gods to be born in his station and deserving of everything. Perhaps he even was. Perhaps she would be struck dead from this offence, but more than likely she would survive the day.
She'd never seen anyone else immediately struck with lightning or combust into flame. She had, however, seen someone dismissed from service. The Kotas were a far more immediate worry than the Gods.
She should drop this charade now and be on her way, tell Ajax to nevermind the quince. That would be much safer than the possible consequences. But...as long as it didn't reach the king, queen, or crown prince, she should be relatively clear.
Fuck. There was still a possibility of a report. She had to consider whether this attempt at pragmatic preservation of the populace was worth the risk of being incorrect, spending a large portion of money, and the punishment of being caught in a lie.
"You're right, my lord." She watched the crowd as they passed, her eyes rolling over the far stalls and the people clustered around it. "But the grains are nearly gone. They did not order for this specific shipment, they just want preservable sustenance because the fruits and vegetables are gone. People are not buying quince or honey or any sweet things because they are more worried about buying things that fill them. The issue is that once the grains run out, there will be nothing at all. Save for the things people did not or could not buy before. Like quince, which can keep in storage for months rather than days such as apples and the like. The people's dramas are your dramas when the food is gone completely. See there-"
She pointed to a dust-covered woman surrounded by a gaggle of children. The woman's nose wrinkled at them as they passed and her eyes darted into the ground rather than sear into Aea and Lord Thanasi. "The children will go first. The smart ones will find dandelions and maple, the strong ones will catch frogs and cats. But most of them will sicken and die. And when the women and men are starving and grieving, they will be angry. You're a striking beauty, my lord, even if you were dressed in rags you would be beautiful. Yours is not a face people forget. How many have seen you in the market today? How many heard you declare you were buying all the quince and couldn't be bothered with the trifles of the commoners? Word spreads, so how many people will have heard the tale by dusk?"
She did not understand him. Not even slightly. Greed, she understood wholly. But greed when one was not struggling to live? No, she did not understand that. Taking what one did not need because they were not sure if they would need it to survive the next day, yes. Taking what one did not need when they would not ever need it? No.
"The longer we can feed the peasantry, the more time we have to find the means to fix the food shortage and avoid something like an angry mob coming for the nobles stores. Or worse, the nobles themselves. Slaves and freedmen outnumber the nobility by a staggering amount, and they outnumber the military as well. Swords do no good stabbing at a man if there are five more piling atop you."
She had never been in a national famine before. There was no need when she could just glide upon the sea for richer shores, but she’d been in winter. She’d been stuck in a place because her aunt was dying, the boat broke upon the near cliffs, and there had been nothing to eat in the snow. No game to hunt, no travelers to harry, no towns to thieve, only maple bark. Each day, her family grew more restless and irritable. They ate the goat—the one before Kelosi. They might have eaten Callie had they not been afeared of her sickness. Aea wondered, even now, if they might have eventually eaten her instead.
“Your cousin, my lord, would not make a grand show of buying all of anything in the midst of a famine,” she said.
Although she was learning all she needed to know of how this society operated, she had only been a couple of weeks at absorbing the information. She quite assumed the queen would be in charge of heading this strategy given her husband’s duties encompassed the management of his nobles. That made sense to Aea. The prince saw to the army, the king saw to the provinces, the queen saw to the populace. However, the lord said ‘cousin’ and as far as Aea knew, that could not be the queen…could it?
She was still learning address and verbal etiquette: my lordship, your highness, eyes forward, hands at your sides, do not say ‘fuck’ at any point in time, etcetera. Perhaps once they got past ‘how to read’ she could learn of lineages so that instances such as this didn’t compromise her.
“The agreement would be discreet and quiet. The quince would be stored until the bread was gone, and then it would be rationed. After that, if no relief were in sight, it would be time to indebt ourselves to our neighbors. Or marry them. But-” She shrugged softly, “it’s quite possible that there are better ways of going about this. If you have a better strategy, I’m sure your cousin would be willing to hear it. No good idea was ever executed without first offering it.”
Each and every word of that was an estimated assumption. Most of this conversation was. It was either run a haphazard con or trip ignorantly after him and accept his desires for one over-what she reasoned-was a need of the many. A curiosity that turned into a challenge and then a question of doing the right thing. Which, frankly, she still didn’t know much about. But she did know what hunger felt like, and she did know how angry mortals behaved.
She stopped walking and turned to Lord Thanasi, his beauty no longer blinding but mortal beneath his sharp expression. Aea dipped into another small curtsey, “I’m afraid I must leave, my lord. Her Highness, Princess Athenasia is awaiting her herbs as well. I will have a portion of quince delivered to your home without any cost to you as an apology for your inconvenience."
And if she went back to the fruit stand and saw Ajax empty handed, she was never taking him to market again.
The Thanasi lord thrust a hand toward Aea and she looked down, churning thoughts clipped and disallowed their flight. His hands were so elegant and slim, hardly the palms of a laborer or a warrior. Each knucklebone arched delicately, one after another in perfectly symmetrical hills of alabaster and jewel. And the nails were painted. Her gaze flicked back up and traveled slowly across his features. He held his chin high, his eyes passing over her with the most minimal of acknowledgements. Like she was nothing but the dirt that dare lay beneath his sandal.
“I do not understand, and I am vastly uninterested in the ‘will of the crown’. I did not come to the market to be informed that people are dying nor to be told that I cannot have what I want. I came to the market because I could not break my fast and, while I reasonably trust the staff to make accommodations as necessary, these shortages mean that I cannot be certain that my facial shall be without issue this afternoon.” Two long fingers dimpled his flesh, sculpted lips pulling into a pout. “My skin is dying.”
Her expression did not betray her thoughts. She spared a final glance at the lord’s hand before deciding on the proper greeting. She gave it a shallow nod of acknowledgement coupled with a small bend to the knee but otherwise left it dangling prettily in the wind. It was not certain to her whether she was supposed to touch his hand as she might a lord or let her palm hover beneath his fingers as she might a lady, and so she settled on something vaguely acceptable.
As the Lord spoke, her own hands folded before her hips. Though his tone bordered on ire, she was not certain if he was joking or not. Dasmo had a dry sense of humor such as that, so she would not write it off.
A bite of fruit, not even halfway gone, and he set it back upon the counter and turned away. He was…done? Daintily, he slicked the fruit juices from his fingers with a nailed cloth and turned from her to speak with the merchant.
“I have already paid,” Mihail said. “We have a contract and I can assure you that if you do not honour it, then you shall find yourself rather unable to honour anything in the future.”
There was a great amount of back and forth between the lord and the merchant, much posturing and threatening involved. Her eyebrows jumped up when he named her a ‘silly girl.' That was a first. He could have said 'stupid girl' as people tended to say, but he did not. He was calling her bluff, however.
Curious. What to do about this?
She could let the matter go. He was, after all, a lord and would most certainly report her behavior. Aea had not yet been imprisoned or flogged but the threat was there all the same. He didn't seem like an entirely powerful lord, though. Silly, even. Who got upset over such trivial things as quinces and...facials, was it?
He might be very powerful, though, his word taken in serious measures. But he was so young. Could someone under thirty truly have any weight to their words? Was this worth the skin on her back?
"I can assure you that if my cousin had ordered your specific inventory to be sent to his home, then it would have been rather a more dramatic affair. Not this.” He pressed a finger pointedly onto the countertop. “Your inventory will be sent to the Thanasi house immediately, and if it is not there by the time I return home, then on your life be it.”
Aea had watched and listened, patiently observing his hot temper and choice of words. His movements. He seemed to have something hidden beneath his clothing but he could have been fondling his waist in irritation.
She folded her arms and rested her elbow in the crook of the other, two fingers curled against her lips in thought, quiet as he ran out of fire to fuel his temper.
His guard materialized from the crowd and her eyes bounced from him to Ajax, her own brooding companion looking undecided himself. That did not paint a very convincing picture, nor did it bode well for her. If he ruined it, she would find a different guard to come to market with her from now on and he would lose the extra hour of relief from his standing post.
Lord Thanasi waved to the vendor as a banished thought and ordered his man to handle the obtaining of his fruit.
The guard turned to the merchant. The Lord turn to her. Aea kept her eyes on Lord Thanasi and pinched back on a smile when he gave her a pretty, hateful smirk. She fluctuated between amusement, bafflement, and offence but eventually settled somewhere on the axis of the three.
"Who are you?" He sneered. After a pause, he added, "What fables?"
Aea uncurled her fingers and her crossed arms swept down to her sides. She bent at the knee and executed a dainty bow that had taken two weeks and a dozen laughing fits from the princess to perfect.
"Cassera of Thessmea, once a bard, temporarily a royal fruit fetcher. It's a pleasure to meet you, my lord." Now standing straight again, she clasped her hands before her sternum and smiled. "And the only fables worth listening to are mine. I saw you at the peace festival and Apollo would not let me sleep until I made a composition."
And now they walked. She did not allow her surprise to surface, but rather let her curiosity drive her forward. She cast a glance over her shoulder at Ajax, who no longer look confused but angry. That should have been a signal to halt while she still could, but Aea only took it as a sign of mild displeasure at her decisions.
"See to it the shipment is delivered to the Kotas manor." She glanced at the handsome Thanasi guard for a fleeting moment, then back to Ajax, "Break his hands if you must."
She turned away from the guards as if the matter was beyond her concern now, that she was confident in her orders. Truth be told, Ajax could very well drag her back to the palace and report her himself. He did not trust her to know what she was doing. But she had her reasons, and she would make sure nothing befell him. The only way he would learn that was by going along with her rather than buck like a horse.
She and Kaia still hadn't dug up any of their family's money, and there were some thirty-odd jars buried in or near Midas. The quince would come, she would pay, Kaia would scowl and think it a foolish waste of money, they would argue, a resolution would be met, and that would be that. No reason to let her employers know she'd used their name to take the quince.
In any case, it wasn't as if it were a purchase without merit. Unless it was...
"If you are so bothered by the fate of the peasantry, then I tend to find that there are plenty of stalls here that cater more precisely to their wants. They do sell grains and whatnot.”
He glided as he walked, and though her attention was forward she gave rapt focus to the corner of her vision.
"But their pesky dramas should not invalidate my needs. I need my quince, and I rather prefer to make a habit of fulfilling my desires.”
Another smothering of her expression. Her lips did not draw down, nor her brow, nor did she speak her thoughts aloud. When she began this, it had only been out of curiosity and impulse. Now…Gods help her, but it was the principal of it. Her father was sputtering from the belly of Hades.
Aea inclined her head softly in acknowledgement because he was not incorrect. A moment of soft quiet swallowed them as they strolled, even the chitter of the crowds seemed small compared to this brief, thin breath in time. Possibly because of the risk it carried.
For such a flawless creature, even the Lord’s elegant carriage and manner of speech could not hide his boorish manners and inhumanity. Someone was either incredibly cruel to him as a child to wrap himself in such a disdainful armor of thorns, or someone had told him he was divine.
She was not sure how the nobles and royals thought of themselves. Panos of Marikas had positioned himself as ordained by the Gods, yet Rene of Nikolas treated commoners as if there was little difference between them. Perhaps Lord Thanasi believed himself favored of the Gods to be born in his station and deserving of everything. Perhaps he even was. Perhaps she would be struck dead from this offence, but more than likely she would survive the day.
She'd never seen anyone else immediately struck with lightning or combust into flame. She had, however, seen someone dismissed from service. The Kotas were a far more immediate worry than the Gods.
She should drop this charade now and be on her way, tell Ajax to nevermind the quince. That would be much safer than the possible consequences. But...as long as it didn't reach the king, queen, or crown prince, she should be relatively clear.
Fuck. There was still a possibility of a report. She had to consider whether this attempt at pragmatic preservation of the populace was worth the risk of being incorrect, spending a large portion of money, and the punishment of being caught in a lie.
"You're right, my lord." She watched the crowd as they passed, her eyes rolling over the far stalls and the people clustered around it. "But the grains are nearly gone. They did not order for this specific shipment, they just want preservable sustenance because the fruits and vegetables are gone. People are not buying quince or honey or any sweet things because they are more worried about buying things that fill them. The issue is that once the grains run out, there will be nothing at all. Save for the things people did not or could not buy before. Like quince, which can keep in storage for months rather than days such as apples and the like. The people's dramas are your dramas when the food is gone completely. See there-"
She pointed to a dust-covered woman surrounded by a gaggle of children. The woman's nose wrinkled at them as they passed and her eyes darted into the ground rather than sear into Aea and Lord Thanasi. "The children will go first. The smart ones will find dandelions and maple, the strong ones will catch frogs and cats. But most of them will sicken and die. And when the women and men are starving and grieving, they will be angry. You're a striking beauty, my lord, even if you were dressed in rags you would be beautiful. Yours is not a face people forget. How many have seen you in the market today? How many heard you declare you were buying all the quince and couldn't be bothered with the trifles of the commoners? Word spreads, so how many people will have heard the tale by dusk?"
She did not understand him. Not even slightly. Greed, she understood wholly. But greed when one was not struggling to live? No, she did not understand that. Taking what one did not need because they were not sure if they would need it to survive the next day, yes. Taking what one did not need when they would not ever need it? No.
"The longer we can feed the peasantry, the more time we have to find the means to fix the food shortage and avoid something like an angry mob coming for the nobles stores. Or worse, the nobles themselves. Slaves and freedmen outnumber the nobility by a staggering amount, and they outnumber the military as well. Swords do no good stabbing at a man if there are five more piling atop you."
She had never been in a national famine before. There was no need when she could just glide upon the sea for richer shores, but she’d been in winter. She’d been stuck in a place because her aunt was dying, the boat broke upon the near cliffs, and there had been nothing to eat in the snow. No game to hunt, no travelers to harry, no towns to thieve, only maple bark. Each day, her family grew more restless and irritable. They ate the goat—the one before Kelosi. They might have eaten Callie had they not been afeared of her sickness. Aea wondered, even now, if they might have eventually eaten her instead.
“Your cousin, my lord, would not make a grand show of buying all of anything in the midst of a famine,” she said.
Although she was learning all she needed to know of how this society operated, she had only been a couple of weeks at absorbing the information. She quite assumed the queen would be in charge of heading this strategy given her husband’s duties encompassed the management of his nobles. That made sense to Aea. The prince saw to the army, the king saw to the provinces, the queen saw to the populace. However, the lord said ‘cousin’ and as far as Aea knew, that could not be the queen…could it?
She was still learning address and verbal etiquette: my lordship, your highness, eyes forward, hands at your sides, do not say ‘fuck’ at any point in time, etcetera. Perhaps once they got past ‘how to read’ she could learn of lineages so that instances such as this didn’t compromise her.
“The agreement would be discreet and quiet. The quince would be stored until the bread was gone, and then it would be rationed. After that, if no relief were in sight, it would be time to indebt ourselves to our neighbors. Or marry them. But-” She shrugged softly, “it’s quite possible that there are better ways of going about this. If you have a better strategy, I’m sure your cousin would be willing to hear it. No good idea was ever executed without first offering it.”
Each and every word of that was an estimated assumption. Most of this conversation was. It was either run a haphazard con or trip ignorantly after him and accept his desires for one over-what she reasoned-was a need of the many. A curiosity that turned into a challenge and then a question of doing the right thing. Which, frankly, she still didn’t know much about. But she did know what hunger felt like, and she did know how angry mortals behaved.
She stopped walking and turned to Lord Thanasi, his beauty no longer blinding but mortal beneath his sharp expression. Aea dipped into another small curtsey, “I’m afraid I must leave, my lord. Her Highness, Princess Athenasia is awaiting her herbs as well. I will have a portion of quince delivered to your home without any cost to you as an apology for your inconvenience."
And if she went back to the fruit stand and saw Ajax empty handed, she was never taking him to market again.
A bard. Mihail supposed the alleged occupation made some degree of sense, although he tended to ignore the claims of most unknown individuals when he asked them for an identity. It was in the nature of most to lie when they were not certain of circumstance, and this was a scenario where he would expect such a reaction, although he often shied away from assumptions, no matter how founded he considered them. In any case, the claimed backstory was supported by her clear lack of knowledge regarding how to act around somebody of the Thanasi’s social statue (her choice of greeting was astounding in its horror), and it was something obscure enough that there was no reason to check up on the information provided. Besides, he did not care in the slightest. She was nobody to him, as most were.
“I do not like fiction,” he replied with a simple shrug, choosing to dismiss the idea of the composition almost as soon as she mentioned it by physically push the thought away with a dismissive wave of his hand. He had met bards before, and many of them only served to irritate because they were precisely the sorts who did not know how to shut up when it was best deserved. He could not stand people who did not know when to shut up, for he tended to favour silence in most, and especially so in those that he knew were below him. Bards were indubitably so and were only necessary when it came to those otherwise worthless lords who needed false tales to follow them around and make them feel important — Dysius was precisely the sort. “I do not need my looks recounted by somebody who has not experienced them fully, nor do I need to hear all my achievements recounted by those who have not seen my successes firsthand. I am aware of them all.”
Whether or not he liked to hear such idiocies, the man had excellent hearing, and the comment this Cassera made to the pair of guards behind them was not lost. It was enough to paint an amused smirk onto Mihail’s features, the corners of his mouth drawn upwards and the tip of his tongue flickering almost imperceptibly out to run over his upper lip. It was an absurdity that this girl continued to believe she might win this little battle between them. “Adonis was built for more than just his good looks, you know. I do not hire weak men, so your guard is only to be humiliated. Besides, I find myself dearly in need of his hands on a rather frequent basis.” And Mihail did like to get what he wanted, so he expected his guard to do exactly as he had made clear and get him his fruit, on pain of either death or severe injury.
But he was done with the matter and did not care for the fruit any longer when it was a certainty that he was going to get it. Gods, Mihail could not imagine a time in several years that he had not managed to get his way. It was silly to think otherwise.
Mihail moved rather easily through the crowd, barely needing to indicate that others should move away from him when they did so automatically, for angering a Thanasi was far worse than any alternative (it did tend to result in death or some kind of serious injury). He directed himself to one of the shopfronts that operated instead out of the front room of somebody’s questionable home as opposed to one of the smaller stalls that stood in the central plateía, gliding through the group that already gathered about it because they did not matter to him and, besides, lines were something he thought was rather more reserved for the poverty than delicate lords such as he.
And this Cassera continued to speak as they moved, clearly attempting to draw sympathy from him as if he had any to offer. It was something vastly underdeveloped, and he had never cared to try and fix that when it did not seem particularly broken in the first place and substantial effort was not something he especially enjoyed otherwise. A hand lifted to halt her in her speech as he ran his disdainful gaze over the contents of the stall, though there was nothing that particularly stood out as especially desirable. Instead, he cast a glance over to the woman towards which the alleged former bard gestured, passing by her with a two-fingered wave that indicated she should make an effort to move away and, more specifically, keep her children as far from him as possible. The children would go first. This, Mihail assumed, was a calculated attempt to appeal to that non-existent sympathy, presumably because most people liked children, but, like many that revolved around the concepts of pity or compassion, this was not a fault that he possessed.
“I do not like children,” he informed Cassera matter-of-factly, pausing to look at her with one of his eyebrows lifted upwards in mockery. “This matter is not my fault: I do not control the trade of the seas nor the problems that surround it. Even if it were, I would not be so bothered by the recognition of my face as you so claim. I am a Thanasi, if you were not aware, and the stories that have already spread about my family are already far worse than whatever you threaten. I do not care.” Anybody who thought a Thanasi could be threatened by the possibility of cruel rumours being spread was truly a fool, for it was the thing to which they were likely the most immune. “Oh, and quince may well be stored by those who do not understand the fruit, but I prefer it fresh, and I prefer too that my facials not be performed by some rotting carcass or stale rock of a fruit. It is not a crime to wish to live the way to which I am accustomed.”
He was uncertain exactly who had made this girl the expert on how they should handle the starvation caused by the unavailability of resources, but he had learned many years ago to take the words of most with a degree of incredulity, and neither questioned nor accepted it. Instead, he chose to focus on the apparent threat to his life supposed by the girl, though scoffed at the thought rather than expressing any true concern. “If there are troubles in the capital, then I shall simply go elsewhere. We have homes. I can go to Taengea. I do not care.”
It was the discussion of his cousin as though she should know them better that truly frustrated him, and he stopped fully in his imperious walk towards another stall to face her, hands dropped to his waist once again. “I did not realise that you — some ex-bard who now plays servant for the Kotas family — were so well-acquainted with my cousins and their opinions. Perhaps you should attempt to rule Colchis, so apparently experienced as you are.” Either way, he saw no reason why the girl should think herself so self-important, and he had no time for it. In truth, he had no time for this, for it was truly wasting the afternoon he had wanted to spend shopping.
Perhaps it was for the best, then, that Cassera decided then that it was time to leave. His eyes slipped past her once more to find the shape of Adonis among the crowd, hands not looking particularly broken, though the angle and distance made it rather difficult to spot many specifics. “Yes, I suppose you must,” he replied, finally turning his gaze back onto her. “I have matters to attend, as I have made rather clear. I do not need your pitiful supplies when I am certain my guard has succeeded in his task. He does not tend to fail.” There was a beat as he considered speaking, then as a final comment, added: “Do be assured that my darling sister Evras — your future Queen, if our current crown prince continues as such — shall be informed of your insolence and your threats towards myself and Adonis. Thanasis do not forget.”
With that, Mihail offered her a sarcastic smirk of sorts, tilting his head to one side in mock farewell before stepping past her again, deciding to direct himself back towards his guard to meet the man in the middle and discover whether he had managed to do as directed or not, for it was likely to determine how he was treated that evening.
Az
Mihail
Az
Mihail
Awards
First Impressions:Slim; Broken nose, piercing gaze, red-painted nails.
Address: Your His Lordship
A bard. Mihail supposed the alleged occupation made some degree of sense, although he tended to ignore the claims of most unknown individuals when he asked them for an identity. It was in the nature of most to lie when they were not certain of circumstance, and this was a scenario where he would expect such a reaction, although he often shied away from assumptions, no matter how founded he considered them. In any case, the claimed backstory was supported by her clear lack of knowledge regarding how to act around somebody of the Thanasi’s social statue (her choice of greeting was astounding in its horror), and it was something obscure enough that there was no reason to check up on the information provided. Besides, he did not care in the slightest. She was nobody to him, as most were.
“I do not like fiction,” he replied with a simple shrug, choosing to dismiss the idea of the composition almost as soon as she mentioned it by physically push the thought away with a dismissive wave of his hand. He had met bards before, and many of them only served to irritate because they were precisely the sorts who did not know how to shut up when it was best deserved. He could not stand people who did not know when to shut up, for he tended to favour silence in most, and especially so in those that he knew were below him. Bards were indubitably so and were only necessary when it came to those otherwise worthless lords who needed false tales to follow them around and make them feel important — Dysius was precisely the sort. “I do not need my looks recounted by somebody who has not experienced them fully, nor do I need to hear all my achievements recounted by those who have not seen my successes firsthand. I am aware of them all.”
Whether or not he liked to hear such idiocies, the man had excellent hearing, and the comment this Cassera made to the pair of guards behind them was not lost. It was enough to paint an amused smirk onto Mihail’s features, the corners of his mouth drawn upwards and the tip of his tongue flickering almost imperceptibly out to run over his upper lip. It was an absurdity that this girl continued to believe she might win this little battle between them. “Adonis was built for more than just his good looks, you know. I do not hire weak men, so your guard is only to be humiliated. Besides, I find myself dearly in need of his hands on a rather frequent basis.” And Mihail did like to get what he wanted, so he expected his guard to do exactly as he had made clear and get him his fruit, on pain of either death or severe injury.
But he was done with the matter and did not care for the fruit any longer when it was a certainty that he was going to get it. Gods, Mihail could not imagine a time in several years that he had not managed to get his way. It was silly to think otherwise.
Mihail moved rather easily through the crowd, barely needing to indicate that others should move away from him when they did so automatically, for angering a Thanasi was far worse than any alternative (it did tend to result in death or some kind of serious injury). He directed himself to one of the shopfronts that operated instead out of the front room of somebody’s questionable home as opposed to one of the smaller stalls that stood in the central plateía, gliding through the group that already gathered about it because they did not matter to him and, besides, lines were something he thought was rather more reserved for the poverty than delicate lords such as he.
And this Cassera continued to speak as they moved, clearly attempting to draw sympathy from him as if he had any to offer. It was something vastly underdeveloped, and he had never cared to try and fix that when it did not seem particularly broken in the first place and substantial effort was not something he especially enjoyed otherwise. A hand lifted to halt her in her speech as he ran his disdainful gaze over the contents of the stall, though there was nothing that particularly stood out as especially desirable. Instead, he cast a glance over to the woman towards which the alleged former bard gestured, passing by her with a two-fingered wave that indicated she should make an effort to move away and, more specifically, keep her children as far from him as possible. The children would go first. This, Mihail assumed, was a calculated attempt to appeal to that non-existent sympathy, presumably because most people liked children, but, like many that revolved around the concepts of pity or compassion, this was not a fault that he possessed.
“I do not like children,” he informed Cassera matter-of-factly, pausing to look at her with one of his eyebrows lifted upwards in mockery. “This matter is not my fault: I do not control the trade of the seas nor the problems that surround it. Even if it were, I would not be so bothered by the recognition of my face as you so claim. I am a Thanasi, if you were not aware, and the stories that have already spread about my family are already far worse than whatever you threaten. I do not care.” Anybody who thought a Thanasi could be threatened by the possibility of cruel rumours being spread was truly a fool, for it was the thing to which they were likely the most immune. “Oh, and quince may well be stored by those who do not understand the fruit, but I prefer it fresh, and I prefer too that my facials not be performed by some rotting carcass or stale rock of a fruit. It is not a crime to wish to live the way to which I am accustomed.”
He was uncertain exactly who had made this girl the expert on how they should handle the starvation caused by the unavailability of resources, but he had learned many years ago to take the words of most with a degree of incredulity, and neither questioned nor accepted it. Instead, he chose to focus on the apparent threat to his life supposed by the girl, though scoffed at the thought rather than expressing any true concern. “If there are troubles in the capital, then I shall simply go elsewhere. We have homes. I can go to Taengea. I do not care.”
It was the discussion of his cousin as though she should know them better that truly frustrated him, and he stopped fully in his imperious walk towards another stall to face her, hands dropped to his waist once again. “I did not realise that you — some ex-bard who now plays servant for the Kotas family — were so well-acquainted with my cousins and their opinions. Perhaps you should attempt to rule Colchis, so apparently experienced as you are.” Either way, he saw no reason why the girl should think herself so self-important, and he had no time for it. In truth, he had no time for this, for it was truly wasting the afternoon he had wanted to spend shopping.
Perhaps it was for the best, then, that Cassera decided then that it was time to leave. His eyes slipped past her once more to find the shape of Adonis among the crowd, hands not looking particularly broken, though the angle and distance made it rather difficult to spot many specifics. “Yes, I suppose you must,” he replied, finally turning his gaze back onto her. “I have matters to attend, as I have made rather clear. I do not need your pitiful supplies when I am certain my guard has succeeded in his task. He does not tend to fail.” There was a beat as he considered speaking, then as a final comment, added: “Do be assured that my darling sister Evras — your future Queen, if our current crown prince continues as such — shall be informed of your insolence and your threats towards myself and Adonis. Thanasis do not forget.”
With that, Mihail offered her a sarcastic smirk of sorts, tilting his head to one side in mock farewell before stepping past her again, deciding to direct himself back towards his guard to meet the man in the middle and discover whether he had managed to do as directed or not, for it was likely to determine how he was treated that evening.
A bard. Mihail supposed the alleged occupation made some degree of sense, although he tended to ignore the claims of most unknown individuals when he asked them for an identity. It was in the nature of most to lie when they were not certain of circumstance, and this was a scenario where he would expect such a reaction, although he often shied away from assumptions, no matter how founded he considered them. In any case, the claimed backstory was supported by her clear lack of knowledge regarding how to act around somebody of the Thanasi’s social statue (her choice of greeting was astounding in its horror), and it was something obscure enough that there was no reason to check up on the information provided. Besides, he did not care in the slightest. She was nobody to him, as most were.
“I do not like fiction,” he replied with a simple shrug, choosing to dismiss the idea of the composition almost as soon as she mentioned it by physically push the thought away with a dismissive wave of his hand. He had met bards before, and many of them only served to irritate because they were precisely the sorts who did not know how to shut up when it was best deserved. He could not stand people who did not know when to shut up, for he tended to favour silence in most, and especially so in those that he knew were below him. Bards were indubitably so and were only necessary when it came to those otherwise worthless lords who needed false tales to follow them around and make them feel important — Dysius was precisely the sort. “I do not need my looks recounted by somebody who has not experienced them fully, nor do I need to hear all my achievements recounted by those who have not seen my successes firsthand. I am aware of them all.”
Whether or not he liked to hear such idiocies, the man had excellent hearing, and the comment this Cassera made to the pair of guards behind them was not lost. It was enough to paint an amused smirk onto Mihail’s features, the corners of his mouth drawn upwards and the tip of his tongue flickering almost imperceptibly out to run over his upper lip. It was an absurdity that this girl continued to believe she might win this little battle between them. “Adonis was built for more than just his good looks, you know. I do not hire weak men, so your guard is only to be humiliated. Besides, I find myself dearly in need of his hands on a rather frequent basis.” And Mihail did like to get what he wanted, so he expected his guard to do exactly as he had made clear and get him his fruit, on pain of either death or severe injury.
But he was done with the matter and did not care for the fruit any longer when it was a certainty that he was going to get it. Gods, Mihail could not imagine a time in several years that he had not managed to get his way. It was silly to think otherwise.
Mihail moved rather easily through the crowd, barely needing to indicate that others should move away from him when they did so automatically, for angering a Thanasi was far worse than any alternative (it did tend to result in death or some kind of serious injury). He directed himself to one of the shopfronts that operated instead out of the front room of somebody’s questionable home as opposed to one of the smaller stalls that stood in the central plateía, gliding through the group that already gathered about it because they did not matter to him and, besides, lines were something he thought was rather more reserved for the poverty than delicate lords such as he.
And this Cassera continued to speak as they moved, clearly attempting to draw sympathy from him as if he had any to offer. It was something vastly underdeveloped, and he had never cared to try and fix that when it did not seem particularly broken in the first place and substantial effort was not something he especially enjoyed otherwise. A hand lifted to halt her in her speech as he ran his disdainful gaze over the contents of the stall, though there was nothing that particularly stood out as especially desirable. Instead, he cast a glance over to the woman towards which the alleged former bard gestured, passing by her with a two-fingered wave that indicated she should make an effort to move away and, more specifically, keep her children as far from him as possible. The children would go first. This, Mihail assumed, was a calculated attempt to appeal to that non-existent sympathy, presumably because most people liked children, but, like many that revolved around the concepts of pity or compassion, this was not a fault that he possessed.
“I do not like children,” he informed Cassera matter-of-factly, pausing to look at her with one of his eyebrows lifted upwards in mockery. “This matter is not my fault: I do not control the trade of the seas nor the problems that surround it. Even if it were, I would not be so bothered by the recognition of my face as you so claim. I am a Thanasi, if you were not aware, and the stories that have already spread about my family are already far worse than whatever you threaten. I do not care.” Anybody who thought a Thanasi could be threatened by the possibility of cruel rumours being spread was truly a fool, for it was the thing to which they were likely the most immune. “Oh, and quince may well be stored by those who do not understand the fruit, but I prefer it fresh, and I prefer too that my facials not be performed by some rotting carcass or stale rock of a fruit. It is not a crime to wish to live the way to which I am accustomed.”
He was uncertain exactly who had made this girl the expert on how they should handle the starvation caused by the unavailability of resources, but he had learned many years ago to take the words of most with a degree of incredulity, and neither questioned nor accepted it. Instead, he chose to focus on the apparent threat to his life supposed by the girl, though scoffed at the thought rather than expressing any true concern. “If there are troubles in the capital, then I shall simply go elsewhere. We have homes. I can go to Taengea. I do not care.”
It was the discussion of his cousin as though she should know them better that truly frustrated him, and he stopped fully in his imperious walk towards another stall to face her, hands dropped to his waist once again. “I did not realise that you — some ex-bard who now plays servant for the Kotas family — were so well-acquainted with my cousins and their opinions. Perhaps you should attempt to rule Colchis, so apparently experienced as you are.” Either way, he saw no reason why the girl should think herself so self-important, and he had no time for it. In truth, he had no time for this, for it was truly wasting the afternoon he had wanted to spend shopping.
Perhaps it was for the best, then, that Cassera decided then that it was time to leave. His eyes slipped past her once more to find the shape of Adonis among the crowd, hands not looking particularly broken, though the angle and distance made it rather difficult to spot many specifics. “Yes, I suppose you must,” he replied, finally turning his gaze back onto her. “I have matters to attend, as I have made rather clear. I do not need your pitiful supplies when I am certain my guard has succeeded in his task. He does not tend to fail.” There was a beat as he considered speaking, then as a final comment, added: “Do be assured that my darling sister Evras — your future Queen, if our current crown prince continues as such — shall be informed of your insolence and your threats towards myself and Adonis. Thanasis do not forget.”
With that, Mihail offered her a sarcastic smirk of sorts, tilting his head to one side in mock farewell before stepping past her again, deciding to direct himself back towards his guard to meet the man in the middle and discover whether he had managed to do as directed or not, for it was likely to determine how he was treated that evening.
