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Keikelius let his dark gaze trail over the forms of the young ladies that stood before him, including his daughter. While he would not yield his own thoughts to the younger Stravos, he was very aware that most, if not all, the family was in agreement with what his next actions were to be. Distancing himself from his family was what needed to be done in order to give the lords and ladies around him the impression that he did not, and would not agree with the actions taken by the rest of his own brood. Most especially, he needed to appear as if he did not support Elias' actions or his apparent need to rule over everything around him.
A lie to Keikelius, as he did fully support his son, even if his methods were rather off the rails, but a truth to everyone else. This was what he needed. To appear the unbiased Master of Trade and stand against his son, quietly, but still in a visible manner.
The princess greeted him softly and politely, an expected gesture from the young woman even despite the hardships he knew that she had gone through as of late. He knew that the words out of her mouth were most likely a lie, borne from a need to remain strong against adversity and strife, because her next words were a question of whether or not he could help his niece. With his gaze softening, he glanced at their company, seemingly chewing on the inside of his cheek. "I feel that that question would be better answered if I were to have an audience with just yourself," Keikelius said very slowly, his gaze drifting to Lady Danae and then away. A proffered sign that he was not comfortable discussing this with the young lady in their presence.
His expression remained calm, even exhibiting that he felt bad for the position that the princess had been put in. "I would be happy to meet with you in private in the coming days, my princess," he addressed her properly, and then turned his head in order to watch the events of the festival play out before him.
The arrival of his son and Lord Marikas with a fresh autumn bounty of fruits, vegetables, and wines. His expression changed to one of concern, unsure of whether his son was sober for this exploit of his people. He clearly was and that nearly made Keikelius clench his teeth. Then again, it played well into what Keikelius himself was attempting to do with the princess. With his gaze tearing away from the scene that was quickly unfolding and divolving around them, he looked to Princess Emilia and the other girls around her with an almost withering, frustrated expression. Seemingly irritated by his son's behavior and the posturing that was taking place. Irritated that his son needed to appear a savior and drag Queen Persephone's name through the mud. Shaking his head just slightly, he pretended to be unable to stop himself when he finally spoke again. "I pray, for all of our sakes, that the queen is not dead and gone," he said lowly, ignoring Danae, giving Chara a guarded, defensive look, and completely ignoring the sharp gaze of his own wife.
"Perhaps I could escort you for the remainder of the festival?" Keikelius offered to Princess Emilia, even going so far as to offer his hand to her. "With your ladies, I'm sure."
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Keikelius let his dark gaze trail over the forms of the young ladies that stood before him, including his daughter. While he would not yield his own thoughts to the younger Stravos, he was very aware that most, if not all, the family was in agreement with what his next actions were to be. Distancing himself from his family was what needed to be done in order to give the lords and ladies around him the impression that he did not, and would not agree with the actions taken by the rest of his own brood. Most especially, he needed to appear as if he did not support Elias' actions or his apparent need to rule over everything around him.
A lie to Keikelius, as he did fully support his son, even if his methods were rather off the rails, but a truth to everyone else. This was what he needed. To appear the unbiased Master of Trade and stand against his son, quietly, but still in a visible manner.
The princess greeted him softly and politely, an expected gesture from the young woman even despite the hardships he knew that she had gone through as of late. He knew that the words out of her mouth were most likely a lie, borne from a need to remain strong against adversity and strife, because her next words were a question of whether or not he could help his niece. With his gaze softening, he glanced at their company, seemingly chewing on the inside of his cheek. "I feel that that question would be better answered if I were to have an audience with just yourself," Keikelius said very slowly, his gaze drifting to Lady Danae and then away. A proffered sign that he was not comfortable discussing this with the young lady in their presence.
His expression remained calm, even exhibiting that he felt bad for the position that the princess had been put in. "I would be happy to meet with you in private in the coming days, my princess," he addressed her properly, and then turned his head in order to watch the events of the festival play out before him.
The arrival of his son and Lord Marikas with a fresh autumn bounty of fruits, vegetables, and wines. His expression changed to one of concern, unsure of whether his son was sober for this exploit of his people. He clearly was and that nearly made Keikelius clench his teeth. Then again, it played well into what Keikelius himself was attempting to do with the princess. With his gaze tearing away from the scene that was quickly unfolding and divolving around them, he looked to Princess Emilia and the other girls around her with an almost withering, frustrated expression. Seemingly irritated by his son's behavior and the posturing that was taking place. Irritated that his son needed to appear a savior and drag Queen Persephone's name through the mud. Shaking his head just slightly, he pretended to be unable to stop himself when he finally spoke again. "I pray, for all of our sakes, that the queen is not dead and gone," he said lowly, ignoring Danae, giving Chara a guarded, defensive look, and completely ignoring the sharp gaze of his own wife.
"Perhaps I could escort you for the remainder of the festival?" Keikelius offered to Princess Emilia, even going so far as to offer his hand to her. "With your ladies, I'm sure."
Keikelius let his dark gaze trail over the forms of the young ladies that stood before him, including his daughter. While he would not yield his own thoughts to the younger Stravos, he was very aware that most, if not all, the family was in agreement with what his next actions were to be. Distancing himself from his family was what needed to be done in order to give the lords and ladies around him the impression that he did not, and would not agree with the actions taken by the rest of his own brood. Most especially, he needed to appear as if he did not support Elias' actions or his apparent need to rule over everything around him.
A lie to Keikelius, as he did fully support his son, even if his methods were rather off the rails, but a truth to everyone else. This was what he needed. To appear the unbiased Master of Trade and stand against his son, quietly, but still in a visible manner.
The princess greeted him softly and politely, an expected gesture from the young woman even despite the hardships he knew that she had gone through as of late. He knew that the words out of her mouth were most likely a lie, borne from a need to remain strong against adversity and strife, because her next words were a question of whether or not he could help his niece. With his gaze softening, he glanced at their company, seemingly chewing on the inside of his cheek. "I feel that that question would be better answered if I were to have an audience with just yourself," Keikelius said very slowly, his gaze drifting to Lady Danae and then away. A proffered sign that he was not comfortable discussing this with the young lady in their presence.
His expression remained calm, even exhibiting that he felt bad for the position that the princess had been put in. "I would be happy to meet with you in private in the coming days, my princess," he addressed her properly, and then turned his head in order to watch the events of the festival play out before him.
The arrival of his son and Lord Marikas with a fresh autumn bounty of fruits, vegetables, and wines. His expression changed to one of concern, unsure of whether his son was sober for this exploit of his people. He clearly was and that nearly made Keikelius clench his teeth. Then again, it played well into what Keikelius himself was attempting to do with the princess. With his gaze tearing away from the scene that was quickly unfolding and divolving around them, he looked to Princess Emilia and the other girls around her with an almost withering, frustrated expression. Seemingly irritated by his son's behavior and the posturing that was taking place. Irritated that his son needed to appear a savior and drag Queen Persephone's name through the mud. Shaking his head just slightly, he pretended to be unable to stop himself when he finally spoke again. "I pray, for all of our sakes, that the queen is not dead and gone," he said lowly, ignoring Danae, giving Chara a guarded, defensive look, and completely ignoring the sharp gaze of his own wife.
"Perhaps I could escort you for the remainder of the festival?" Keikelius offered to Princess Emilia, even going so far as to offer his hand to her. "With your ladies, I'm sure."
Lesley, in his simple guard's uniform and his quiet, casual expression, was nearly always a step or two behind Emilia, especially in public, and had been for long enough now that he was simply ignored... which was, for once, exactly how he wanted it - though he wasn't sure he liked it. At least Elias's little side projects kept him from getting itchy about needing to fight. It would be nice, though, if he could get at least an admiring glance or two from the women... The gladiator-turned-bodyguard carefully did nothing to draw attention, nothing save watch and listen. His eyes flicked here and there, attention caught by this or that in the crowd, ignoring how many Stravoses were quickly surrounding his charge.
That was not coincidence.
It wasn't like the whole flock of them had been together and stumbled across the princess as a group. Fine, not the whole flock - Elias was busy showing off his wealth with Rafael at his side, and Princess Circena was not yet come to shower Emilia with saccharine pity - though perhaps she had delegated that to her daughter. Lady Danae's changed appearance may have confused Emilia, but it made Lesley suspicious. Then again, everything was making him suspicious, and twice so since the incident at the Loutra.
So he watched the crowds, and stayed just at the balance between protectively hovering and politely giving the nobles space, and eavesdropped on those talking to Emilia rather than paying any attention at all to whatever flaming garbage no doubt made up whatever speech Rafael of Marikas was pompously declaring, and was both glad and annoyed that his old slave's knack of being invisible when needed was as easy as memory painted it.
At least until the guards around Lord Elias and Raf moved.
Lesley stepped forward to be able to murmur in his charge's ear, "My Lady, there is some disturbance around Lord Elias. I believe his guards have it contained, but if it spreads, we may need to move quickly."
That was all; he stepped back again, showing that he was not yet concerned about an imminent threat. Honestly, from this distance, the guards' reaction looked like an overreaction, unless someone had actually come at one of the lords with a weapon, or something equally stupid. But a seeming overreaction by the guards could spark a disturbance as easily as it could quell thoughts of resistance... it all depended on what, exactly, lay under the festival's cheer in the hearts of the crowd. Lesley no longer had a sure finger on the pulse of the lower city, he certainly no longer felt it in every vein even if his heart was still there. It was like watching a match between people he knew but whom he hadn't spoken to recently. He knew how they thought, how they reacted, in general, but were they hurt? exhausted? desperate? Would they be determined to enjoy the festival, regardless of provocation, or outraged by the ostentatious display proving that those at the palati had no shares in their hardships? There would be some of both here today, of course, but which was the larger camp? He could guess, but he would rather know.
As ever, though, he gave no sign of frustration or worry. The weight of his armour and the smooth feel of a spear shaft in his hand put him in a mindset where showing vulnerability became out of the question.
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Lesley, in his simple guard's uniform and his quiet, casual expression, was nearly always a step or two behind Emilia, especially in public, and had been for long enough now that he was simply ignored... which was, for once, exactly how he wanted it - though he wasn't sure he liked it. At least Elias's little side projects kept him from getting itchy about needing to fight. It would be nice, though, if he could get at least an admiring glance or two from the women... The gladiator-turned-bodyguard carefully did nothing to draw attention, nothing save watch and listen. His eyes flicked here and there, attention caught by this or that in the crowd, ignoring how many Stravoses were quickly surrounding his charge.
That was not coincidence.
It wasn't like the whole flock of them had been together and stumbled across the princess as a group. Fine, not the whole flock - Elias was busy showing off his wealth with Rafael at his side, and Princess Circena was not yet come to shower Emilia with saccharine pity - though perhaps she had delegated that to her daughter. Lady Danae's changed appearance may have confused Emilia, but it made Lesley suspicious. Then again, everything was making him suspicious, and twice so since the incident at the Loutra.
So he watched the crowds, and stayed just at the balance between protectively hovering and politely giving the nobles space, and eavesdropped on those talking to Emilia rather than paying any attention at all to whatever flaming garbage no doubt made up whatever speech Rafael of Marikas was pompously declaring, and was both glad and annoyed that his old slave's knack of being invisible when needed was as easy as memory painted it.
At least until the guards around Lord Elias and Raf moved.
Lesley stepped forward to be able to murmur in his charge's ear, "My Lady, there is some disturbance around Lord Elias. I believe his guards have it contained, but if it spreads, we may need to move quickly."
That was all; he stepped back again, showing that he was not yet concerned about an imminent threat. Honestly, from this distance, the guards' reaction looked like an overreaction, unless someone had actually come at one of the lords with a weapon, or something equally stupid. But a seeming overreaction by the guards could spark a disturbance as easily as it could quell thoughts of resistance... it all depended on what, exactly, lay under the festival's cheer in the hearts of the crowd. Lesley no longer had a sure finger on the pulse of the lower city, he certainly no longer felt it in every vein even if his heart was still there. It was like watching a match between people he knew but whom he hadn't spoken to recently. He knew how they thought, how they reacted, in general, but were they hurt? exhausted? desperate? Would they be determined to enjoy the festival, regardless of provocation, or outraged by the ostentatious display proving that those at the palati had no shares in their hardships? There would be some of both here today, of course, but which was the larger camp? He could guess, but he would rather know.
As ever, though, he gave no sign of frustration or worry. The weight of his armour and the smooth feel of a spear shaft in his hand put him in a mindset where showing vulnerability became out of the question.
Lesley, in his simple guard's uniform and his quiet, casual expression, was nearly always a step or two behind Emilia, especially in public, and had been for long enough now that he was simply ignored... which was, for once, exactly how he wanted it - though he wasn't sure he liked it. At least Elias's little side projects kept him from getting itchy about needing to fight. It would be nice, though, if he could get at least an admiring glance or two from the women... The gladiator-turned-bodyguard carefully did nothing to draw attention, nothing save watch and listen. His eyes flicked here and there, attention caught by this or that in the crowd, ignoring how many Stravoses were quickly surrounding his charge.
That was not coincidence.
It wasn't like the whole flock of them had been together and stumbled across the princess as a group. Fine, not the whole flock - Elias was busy showing off his wealth with Rafael at his side, and Princess Circena was not yet come to shower Emilia with saccharine pity - though perhaps she had delegated that to her daughter. Lady Danae's changed appearance may have confused Emilia, but it made Lesley suspicious. Then again, everything was making him suspicious, and twice so since the incident at the Loutra.
So he watched the crowds, and stayed just at the balance between protectively hovering and politely giving the nobles space, and eavesdropped on those talking to Emilia rather than paying any attention at all to whatever flaming garbage no doubt made up whatever speech Rafael of Marikas was pompously declaring, and was both glad and annoyed that his old slave's knack of being invisible when needed was as easy as memory painted it.
At least until the guards around Lord Elias and Raf moved.
Lesley stepped forward to be able to murmur in his charge's ear, "My Lady, there is some disturbance around Lord Elias. I believe his guards have it contained, but if it spreads, we may need to move quickly."
That was all; he stepped back again, showing that he was not yet concerned about an imminent threat. Honestly, from this distance, the guards' reaction looked like an overreaction, unless someone had actually come at one of the lords with a weapon, or something equally stupid. But a seeming overreaction by the guards could spark a disturbance as easily as it could quell thoughts of resistance... it all depended on what, exactly, lay under the festival's cheer in the hearts of the crowd. Lesley no longer had a sure finger on the pulse of the lower city, he certainly no longer felt it in every vein even if his heart was still there. It was like watching a match between people he knew but whom he hadn't spoken to recently. He knew how they thought, how they reacted, in general, but were they hurt? exhausted? desperate? Would they be determined to enjoy the festival, regardless of provocation, or outraged by the ostentatious display proving that those at the palati had no shares in their hardships? There would be some of both here today, of course, but which was the larger camp? He could guess, but he would rather know.
As ever, though, he gave no sign of frustration or worry. The weight of his armour and the smooth feel of a spear shaft in his hand put him in a mindset where showing vulnerability became out of the question.
Had Ariadne been new to court, this sudden intrusion would have been difficult to cope with. Of course nobility would flock to Emilia, but Ari knew to expect that. She was here to lend support to her dear friend’s sister – and a friend of her own. Even though the two of them weren’t as close as she was with Persephone, Ariadne still considered Emilia a friend. And friends stuck together – especially in climates such as this one.
She had been away from court for a few weeks now and was catching up with everything, but she was able to keep informed enough through correspondence with other palace servants. And her own knowledge of the histories of everyone would undoubtedly serve her well. She and Emilia had a moment to exchange pleasantries before Danae of Stravos came barreling in. Ari witnessed their exchange silently, not moving from Emilia’s side despite Danae’s clear attempts to isolate her. If she thought that’s what it would take to shake Ariadne, then she would be surprised. Years at court had toughened Ari.
Soon, they were joined by more people. Ari was unsure if they were attempting to curry favor with Emilia or simply make their presence known to her. For the most part, they ignored her, but Ariadne was the epitome of politeness and made sure to give each noble a greeting proper for their rank. They might not care about her, but she would stay by the princess’ side and gather any information that they dared to drop. Should Persephone return, Ari wanted to be useful in the way of information if she could be.
As the would be royals arrived creating quite a scene, Ari took a moment to glance around and look for familiar faces in the crowd. She wasn’t quite sure that she trusted Senator Keikelius and his sudden interest in the princess. Not that he would be so bold to make some move in such a public place – or so she hoped. Yet, Ariadne wanted to know that there was someone she trusted nearby in case things were to go awry. She spotted her father not too far away and hoped that he was keeping close tabs on her as he usually did. She might just need him before the afternoon was done.
Ari tensed ever so slightly as Emilia’s guard moved closer and whispered into his charge’s ear about the disturbance that was taking place around Elias. Close as she was, the girl couldn’t help but overhear and reached out to give Emilia a reassuring squeeze on the arm. She wouldn’t leave the princess’ side unless the other girl told her to. “I’m at your service, my lady,” she murmured, hoping she could at least provide some comfort. And should anything go wrong, she would count on her father to rush to their sides.
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Had Ariadne been new to court, this sudden intrusion would have been difficult to cope with. Of course nobility would flock to Emilia, but Ari knew to expect that. She was here to lend support to her dear friend’s sister – and a friend of her own. Even though the two of them weren’t as close as she was with Persephone, Ariadne still considered Emilia a friend. And friends stuck together – especially in climates such as this one.
She had been away from court for a few weeks now and was catching up with everything, but she was able to keep informed enough through correspondence with other palace servants. And her own knowledge of the histories of everyone would undoubtedly serve her well. She and Emilia had a moment to exchange pleasantries before Danae of Stravos came barreling in. Ari witnessed their exchange silently, not moving from Emilia’s side despite Danae’s clear attempts to isolate her. If she thought that’s what it would take to shake Ariadne, then she would be surprised. Years at court had toughened Ari.
Soon, they were joined by more people. Ari was unsure if they were attempting to curry favor with Emilia or simply make their presence known to her. For the most part, they ignored her, but Ariadne was the epitome of politeness and made sure to give each noble a greeting proper for their rank. They might not care about her, but she would stay by the princess’ side and gather any information that they dared to drop. Should Persephone return, Ari wanted to be useful in the way of information if she could be.
As the would be royals arrived creating quite a scene, Ari took a moment to glance around and look for familiar faces in the crowd. She wasn’t quite sure that she trusted Senator Keikelius and his sudden interest in the princess. Not that he would be so bold to make some move in such a public place – or so she hoped. Yet, Ariadne wanted to know that there was someone she trusted nearby in case things were to go awry. She spotted her father not too far away and hoped that he was keeping close tabs on her as he usually did. She might just need him before the afternoon was done.
Ari tensed ever so slightly as Emilia’s guard moved closer and whispered into his charge’s ear about the disturbance that was taking place around Elias. Close as she was, the girl couldn’t help but overhear and reached out to give Emilia a reassuring squeeze on the arm. She wouldn’t leave the princess’ side unless the other girl told her to. “I’m at your service, my lady,” she murmured, hoping she could at least provide some comfort. And should anything go wrong, she would count on her father to rush to their sides.
Had Ariadne been new to court, this sudden intrusion would have been difficult to cope with. Of course nobility would flock to Emilia, but Ari knew to expect that. She was here to lend support to her dear friend’s sister – and a friend of her own. Even though the two of them weren’t as close as she was with Persephone, Ariadne still considered Emilia a friend. And friends stuck together – especially in climates such as this one.
She had been away from court for a few weeks now and was catching up with everything, but she was able to keep informed enough through correspondence with other palace servants. And her own knowledge of the histories of everyone would undoubtedly serve her well. She and Emilia had a moment to exchange pleasantries before Danae of Stravos came barreling in. Ari witnessed their exchange silently, not moving from Emilia’s side despite Danae’s clear attempts to isolate her. If she thought that’s what it would take to shake Ariadne, then she would be surprised. Years at court had toughened Ari.
Soon, they were joined by more people. Ari was unsure if they were attempting to curry favor with Emilia or simply make their presence known to her. For the most part, they ignored her, but Ariadne was the epitome of politeness and made sure to give each noble a greeting proper for their rank. They might not care about her, but she would stay by the princess’ side and gather any information that they dared to drop. Should Persephone return, Ari wanted to be useful in the way of information if she could be.
As the would be royals arrived creating quite a scene, Ari took a moment to glance around and look for familiar faces in the crowd. She wasn’t quite sure that she trusted Senator Keikelius and his sudden interest in the princess. Not that he would be so bold to make some move in such a public place – or so she hoped. Yet, Ariadne wanted to know that there was someone she trusted nearby in case things were to go awry. She spotted her father not too far away and hoped that he was keeping close tabs on her as he usually did. She might just need him before the afternoon was done.
Ari tensed ever so slightly as Emilia’s guard moved closer and whispered into his charge’s ear about the disturbance that was taking place around Elias. Close as she was, the girl couldn’t help but overhear and reached out to give Emilia a reassuring squeeze on the arm. She wouldn’t leave the princess’ side unless the other girl told her to. “I’m at your service, my lady,” she murmured, hoping she could at least provide some comfort. And should anything go wrong, she would count on her father to rush to their sides.
Purposefully dragging Hector along, Demi brought her lover over to the stalls where blooming flowers and snacks made by the vendors themselves were being sold galore. It didn't take long for the brunette's stomach to growl, a sign that food was needed soon, and a testament to just how good all the food smelled to her. They had come to the festival to be reminded of everything good and positive that still existed in the world, right? Demi was intending to not let Hector's overly worried demeanour cast a shadow over the day.
Luck wasn't on her side today however.
The entrance of the cavalcade with the excessive deocrations and fanfare would've caught anyone's attention, and Demi was not left out of it. Partway through picking out a white daffodil from the proferred bunch for her to choose her favorites, the pleasure worker's eyes turned to the entrance of the shining chariot, widening when she noticed who descended from it.
It would be hard to forget the week she spent with the young Stravos lord, even more so when she had finally returned to Arcana and had gotten Hector to spill whatever had him appearing in the Loutra that fateful day when the body of the girl had been found. Elias of Stravos had not been.... well, he wasn't the nicest of clients she's had, but he paid handsomely, and Demi had been willing to overlook his little eccentricities. Hector's telling of the man though, had Demi seeing he was far more then the small glimpse of what she had saw when she had been servicing him.
Suddenly, her eyes widened as if she had seen a ghost when the carriage stopped in the square, and her hands lost their grip to drop the flowers she had picked out to the table. Demi instinctively sought for the nearest shaded place, which conveniently happened to be behind Hector, even as Elias stood up to speak. The voice which had been mixed in a haze of forced sexual pleasure during that week was now a source of anxiety. Demi could feel her hands sweat, and without thinking she curled her digits into Hector's sleeves and tugged at him to go backwards, hopefully keeping out of sight of Elias and Rafail, all the while hoping her lover wouldn't question. "S-shall we go seek out Hero and Ariadne, Hector?" Demi asked hurriedly, in an attempt to mask her sudden anxiety at Elias's appearance.
But it would appear Demi's eagerness to disappear was for naught, when the voice of the very girl she had asked for Hector to look for rang clear and true from where the carriage had stopped, and Demi could feel her blood freeze in their veins when she turned and saw Hero herself pointing accusingly att he two men as she spoke. While Hero's words rang true, Demi had no want to step into where Elias of Stravos could recognize who she was. Squeezing her eyes shut as the two young lords rebuked the young girl, Demi hoped fervantly to the Gods above that Hero would let the matter drop, and instead tried to seek out where the twins were in the mess of people crowding towards the two lords and their offer of food - precious to many in the crowd who had not eaten in days.
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Purposefully dragging Hector along, Demi brought her lover over to the stalls where blooming flowers and snacks made by the vendors themselves were being sold galore. It didn't take long for the brunette's stomach to growl, a sign that food was needed soon, and a testament to just how good all the food smelled to her. They had come to the festival to be reminded of everything good and positive that still existed in the world, right? Demi was intending to not let Hector's overly worried demeanour cast a shadow over the day.
Luck wasn't on her side today however.
The entrance of the cavalcade with the excessive deocrations and fanfare would've caught anyone's attention, and Demi was not left out of it. Partway through picking out a white daffodil from the proferred bunch for her to choose her favorites, the pleasure worker's eyes turned to the entrance of the shining chariot, widening when she noticed who descended from it.
It would be hard to forget the week she spent with the young Stravos lord, even more so when she had finally returned to Arcana and had gotten Hector to spill whatever had him appearing in the Loutra that fateful day when the body of the girl had been found. Elias of Stravos had not been.... well, he wasn't the nicest of clients she's had, but he paid handsomely, and Demi had been willing to overlook his little eccentricities. Hector's telling of the man though, had Demi seeing he was far more then the small glimpse of what she had saw when she had been servicing him.
Suddenly, her eyes widened as if she had seen a ghost when the carriage stopped in the square, and her hands lost their grip to drop the flowers she had picked out to the table. Demi instinctively sought for the nearest shaded place, which conveniently happened to be behind Hector, even as Elias stood up to speak. The voice which had been mixed in a haze of forced sexual pleasure during that week was now a source of anxiety. Demi could feel her hands sweat, and without thinking she curled her digits into Hector's sleeves and tugged at him to go backwards, hopefully keeping out of sight of Elias and Rafail, all the while hoping her lover wouldn't question. "S-shall we go seek out Hero and Ariadne, Hector?" Demi asked hurriedly, in an attempt to mask her sudden anxiety at Elias's appearance.
But it would appear Demi's eagerness to disappear was for naught, when the voice of the very girl she had asked for Hector to look for rang clear and true from where the carriage had stopped, and Demi could feel her blood freeze in their veins when she turned and saw Hero herself pointing accusingly att he two men as she spoke. While Hero's words rang true, Demi had no want to step into where Elias of Stravos could recognize who she was. Squeezing her eyes shut as the two young lords rebuked the young girl, Demi hoped fervantly to the Gods above that Hero would let the matter drop, and instead tried to seek out where the twins were in the mess of people crowding towards the two lords and their offer of food - precious to many in the crowd who had not eaten in days.
Purposefully dragging Hector along, Demi brought her lover over to the stalls where blooming flowers and snacks made by the vendors themselves were being sold galore. It didn't take long for the brunette's stomach to growl, a sign that food was needed soon, and a testament to just how good all the food smelled to her. They had come to the festival to be reminded of everything good and positive that still existed in the world, right? Demi was intending to not let Hector's overly worried demeanour cast a shadow over the day.
Luck wasn't on her side today however.
The entrance of the cavalcade with the excessive deocrations and fanfare would've caught anyone's attention, and Demi was not left out of it. Partway through picking out a white daffodil from the proferred bunch for her to choose her favorites, the pleasure worker's eyes turned to the entrance of the shining chariot, widening when she noticed who descended from it.
It would be hard to forget the week she spent with the young Stravos lord, even more so when she had finally returned to Arcana and had gotten Hector to spill whatever had him appearing in the Loutra that fateful day when the body of the girl had been found. Elias of Stravos had not been.... well, he wasn't the nicest of clients she's had, but he paid handsomely, and Demi had been willing to overlook his little eccentricities. Hector's telling of the man though, had Demi seeing he was far more then the small glimpse of what she had saw when she had been servicing him.
Suddenly, her eyes widened as if she had seen a ghost when the carriage stopped in the square, and her hands lost their grip to drop the flowers she had picked out to the table. Demi instinctively sought for the nearest shaded place, which conveniently happened to be behind Hector, even as Elias stood up to speak. The voice which had been mixed in a haze of forced sexual pleasure during that week was now a source of anxiety. Demi could feel her hands sweat, and without thinking she curled her digits into Hector's sleeves and tugged at him to go backwards, hopefully keeping out of sight of Elias and Rafail, all the while hoping her lover wouldn't question. "S-shall we go seek out Hero and Ariadne, Hector?" Demi asked hurriedly, in an attempt to mask her sudden anxiety at Elias's appearance.
But it would appear Demi's eagerness to disappear was for naught, when the voice of the very girl she had asked for Hector to look for rang clear and true from where the carriage had stopped, and Demi could feel her blood freeze in their veins when she turned and saw Hero herself pointing accusingly att he two men as she spoke. While Hero's words rang true, Demi had no want to step into where Elias of Stravos could recognize who she was. Squeezing her eyes shut as the two young lords rebuked the young girl, Demi hoped fervantly to the Gods above that Hero would let the matter drop, and instead tried to seek out where the twins were in the mess of people crowding towards the two lords and their offer of food - precious to many in the crowd who had not eaten in days.
Playing court was a skill that Emilia had developed over the years, and part of it included juggling conversations with multiple people, soemthing the young princess had honed at over her few years spent with her sister. For the most part, Emilia spoke and paid attention to them, until her uncle came of course. Manners and royal decree dictated Emilia must pay the most attention to the one who held the highest position in her audience, and in such a situation, it would fall to the head of the Stravos household, to which Emilia's attention now fell upon.
Her brows raised, for Emilia had caught the brief way in which her uncle's gaze had fell upon her cousin, curiousity immediately coming to forefront. What was it that father and daughter could not share?
Yet, this was not a place nor time to question. So as such, Emilia merely nodded in response, and was left with no time to respond when the two young lords of Marikas and Stravos himself came in. The sight of Elias brought a light flush to Emilia's cheeks, for the memory of just a few days prior was fresh in her mind. The lord Elias has had many speaking against him, but Emilia's young mind had had spent quite a prolonged time in his company that she's found herself quite taken with the young lord. Afterall, he was here to help, was he not? While she may have been hesitant at first, his coming to her aid a few days prior had changed that decision, and afterall, asking Emilia to run the kingdom would be a farce. With the prolonged time Persephone was gone, she could imagine no one else who could run Athenia.
She found herself caught in his motions, that it wasn't till Lesley spoke in her ear, did Emilia start to attention again, flushing further when she realize she had been caught staring. Quickly, the brunette nodded to her guard, showing she would move should he ask her to, and then turned to Keikelius to respond to him. "I would like to believe so too, Uncle. However..." Emilia let herself trail off, not wanting to verbalize what was all on their minds. It has almost been a month since the occurence, and with everyday Emilia's hope that her sister still lived waned.
Her uncle's offer made her smile, but flicked at the curiosity in her mind at the same time. Keikelius had never shown her much attention, and had indeed come off to her as quite brusque. Why the sudden attention? Still, to deny now would be seen as petty, so instead, Emilia merely nodded and slipped her hand in her uncle's arms, turning to Ariadne with a grateful smile, waving at her to come along, and then briefly glancing at Danae. "Would you like to come with us, cousin?" she offered to the other. Glancing behind to make sure Lesley was following too (for these days, Emilia rarely felt safe unless her gladiator-turned-bodyguard was around in public), only then did Emilia fall in step with her uncle as she headed to the merchant stalls, eager to get a bite for her stomach.
It helped that the commonfolk of Athenia was rushing to Elias and Rafail, that Emilia could seek out her favorites. She trusted Lesley to watch her back, and instead handed a coin pouch to Ariadne to purchase a few food items, and then turned to Keikelius as the young girl went about. "Did you know of the plans Lord Elias and Lord Rafail had for today, Uncle?" she asked breezily, waving a hand at the mass of people building at the extravagant gold carriage they had arrivd in.
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Playing court was a skill that Emilia had developed over the years, and part of it included juggling conversations with multiple people, soemthing the young princess had honed at over her few years spent with her sister. For the most part, Emilia spoke and paid attention to them, until her uncle came of course. Manners and royal decree dictated Emilia must pay the most attention to the one who held the highest position in her audience, and in such a situation, it would fall to the head of the Stravos household, to which Emilia's attention now fell upon.
Her brows raised, for Emilia had caught the brief way in which her uncle's gaze had fell upon her cousin, curiousity immediately coming to forefront. What was it that father and daughter could not share?
Yet, this was not a place nor time to question. So as such, Emilia merely nodded in response, and was left with no time to respond when the two young lords of Marikas and Stravos himself came in. The sight of Elias brought a light flush to Emilia's cheeks, for the memory of just a few days prior was fresh in her mind. The lord Elias has had many speaking against him, but Emilia's young mind had had spent quite a prolonged time in his company that she's found herself quite taken with the young lord. Afterall, he was here to help, was he not? While she may have been hesitant at first, his coming to her aid a few days prior had changed that decision, and afterall, asking Emilia to run the kingdom would be a farce. With the prolonged time Persephone was gone, she could imagine no one else who could run Athenia.
She found herself caught in his motions, that it wasn't till Lesley spoke in her ear, did Emilia start to attention again, flushing further when she realize she had been caught staring. Quickly, the brunette nodded to her guard, showing she would move should he ask her to, and then turned to Keikelius to respond to him. "I would like to believe so too, Uncle. However..." Emilia let herself trail off, not wanting to verbalize what was all on their minds. It has almost been a month since the occurence, and with everyday Emilia's hope that her sister still lived waned.
Her uncle's offer made her smile, but flicked at the curiosity in her mind at the same time. Keikelius had never shown her much attention, and had indeed come off to her as quite brusque. Why the sudden attention? Still, to deny now would be seen as petty, so instead, Emilia merely nodded and slipped her hand in her uncle's arms, turning to Ariadne with a grateful smile, waving at her to come along, and then briefly glancing at Danae. "Would you like to come with us, cousin?" she offered to the other. Glancing behind to make sure Lesley was following too (for these days, Emilia rarely felt safe unless her gladiator-turned-bodyguard was around in public), only then did Emilia fall in step with her uncle as she headed to the merchant stalls, eager to get a bite for her stomach.
It helped that the commonfolk of Athenia was rushing to Elias and Rafail, that Emilia could seek out her favorites. She trusted Lesley to watch her back, and instead handed a coin pouch to Ariadne to purchase a few food items, and then turned to Keikelius as the young girl went about. "Did you know of the plans Lord Elias and Lord Rafail had for today, Uncle?" she asked breezily, waving a hand at the mass of people building at the extravagant gold carriage they had arrivd in.
Playing court was a skill that Emilia had developed over the years, and part of it included juggling conversations with multiple people, soemthing the young princess had honed at over her few years spent with her sister. For the most part, Emilia spoke and paid attention to them, until her uncle came of course. Manners and royal decree dictated Emilia must pay the most attention to the one who held the highest position in her audience, and in such a situation, it would fall to the head of the Stravos household, to which Emilia's attention now fell upon.
Her brows raised, for Emilia had caught the brief way in which her uncle's gaze had fell upon her cousin, curiousity immediately coming to forefront. What was it that father and daughter could not share?
Yet, this was not a place nor time to question. So as such, Emilia merely nodded in response, and was left with no time to respond when the two young lords of Marikas and Stravos himself came in. The sight of Elias brought a light flush to Emilia's cheeks, for the memory of just a few days prior was fresh in her mind. The lord Elias has had many speaking against him, but Emilia's young mind had had spent quite a prolonged time in his company that she's found herself quite taken with the young lord. Afterall, he was here to help, was he not? While she may have been hesitant at first, his coming to her aid a few days prior had changed that decision, and afterall, asking Emilia to run the kingdom would be a farce. With the prolonged time Persephone was gone, she could imagine no one else who could run Athenia.
She found herself caught in his motions, that it wasn't till Lesley spoke in her ear, did Emilia start to attention again, flushing further when she realize she had been caught staring. Quickly, the brunette nodded to her guard, showing she would move should he ask her to, and then turned to Keikelius to respond to him. "I would like to believe so too, Uncle. However..." Emilia let herself trail off, not wanting to verbalize what was all on their minds. It has almost been a month since the occurence, and with everyday Emilia's hope that her sister still lived waned.
Her uncle's offer made her smile, but flicked at the curiosity in her mind at the same time. Keikelius had never shown her much attention, and had indeed come off to her as quite brusque. Why the sudden attention? Still, to deny now would be seen as petty, so instead, Emilia merely nodded and slipped her hand in her uncle's arms, turning to Ariadne with a grateful smile, waving at her to come along, and then briefly glancing at Danae. "Would you like to come with us, cousin?" she offered to the other. Glancing behind to make sure Lesley was following too (for these days, Emilia rarely felt safe unless her gladiator-turned-bodyguard was around in public), only then did Emilia fall in step with her uncle as she headed to the merchant stalls, eager to get a bite for her stomach.
It helped that the commonfolk of Athenia was rushing to Elias and Rafail, that Emilia could seek out her favorites. She trusted Lesley to watch her back, and instead handed a coin pouch to Ariadne to purchase a few food items, and then turned to Keikelius as the young girl went about. "Did you know of the plans Lord Elias and Lord Rafail had for today, Uncle?" she asked breezily, waving a hand at the mass of people building at the extravagant gold carriage they had arrivd in.
All but groaning at Demi's tug on his arm, Hector relented. His eyes flashed back to the brood of Arcanans he claimed under his unspoken care, marking each of their places his in his mind before heaving a sigh and following Demi to the stalls. In his own defense, Hector did try to entertain a moment of peace and privacy between himself and Demi, something that many others found to be their right and routine. It was regrettable that he found himself tense among large crowds, particularly with having had such a close brush with the unpredictable nature of the captial these days.
When the ostentatious caravan of foods proceeded and the sharply cadanced voice of a noble echoed over the murmuring and awed crowd, Hector pulled a face and glanced down to Demi. The way her demeanor shifted had her caught in his full attention, particularly when the flowers she held fell to the ground from her stilled hands. Bending to pick them up and return them to the merchant stand, his eyes followed the line of hers toward Lord Elias.
A snap of temper flashed in his chest as his nose flared in rage and disgust.
So, that was her client. His eyes returned to her, seeing the way she withdrew in on herself and recoiled. The thoughts that rang through his head as his eyeline returned to the grandstanding nobles formed an unseemly scowl across his features.
The two noblemen reminded him of the foolhardy, untrained adolescents who believed they could simply walk into his barracks and demand some sort of placement above cleaning latrines in their first days among the White Shields. A lick of dark humor flashed behind his eyes at the idea of the two, young men - Lord Elias and Lord Rafail - peacocked around and flounced the bounty before the other common folk in the Plateía.
He felt Demi withdraw closer to the shade of the merchant's stand, following her slightly but still standing to do his mental headcount of his flock. There was a ruckus being caused near the presentation of food and as he caught eyes with Ismene, he followed the line of the unspoken plea of help her eyes issued.
Hero.
The girl had spunk and spirit unlike anything that he had seen, her energy far surpassing that of both his girls - and most of the stoic type that he came in contact with daily. He groaned again, feeling Demi on his arm recoiling from the issue and knowing that no one else would step in to stop the girl from potential punishment if he did not.
"Wait here...or..." he started, before allowing his eyes to survey his daughters in the crowd, "Follow Ismene. I will handle Hero." Hector paused, knowing that he toed the line once again between giving an order and offering a suggestion. The moment he glanced at Demi's terrified eyes, his expression fell, brows unfurrowing a moment as he took a hand and cupped her cheek. The other one deftly dropped a single coin on the merchant's counter and procured a white daffodil, one that had survived the fall.
"You will be alright. I promise. I won't let anything happen to you."
With that, he kissed her temple and gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze before weaving and shouldering his way through the crowd as politely as a career soldier could. It did not take long before he wove through to find Hero in the madness. Much like a fish swimming upstream, he carved a path through the hungry commoners who only thought of the food laid before them.
Hector's jaw clenched as he heard Elias' order to his companion's guards to remove the girl and his eyes widened a moment as dove through the crowd again with more force, finally reaching her and putting his hand on her shoulder with a firm, guarded grip.
"Stand down," he said, years of habit giving that very order rolling off his tongue quickly, even as he stood before Lord Rafail and his guards. Bowing appropriately, Hector rose to introduce himself.
"Lord Marikas, I am Captain Hector of The White Shields. This girl is a citizen of Arcana, my province. If it is your will, I will gladly take charge of her and ensure she is seen home without any further disturbance to the festival...and that Lord Elias' order is followed." It was bold, but his word was steady and firm. Every inch of him screamed the hard-earned title he bore, and if the Lord Rafail wished to ask to it, he could ask General Lacides himself as to his position. "You have my word, My Lord. She will not be an issue any longer."
At those last words, his glare fell down to Hero, his brows furrowed. It was as much an order for her as it was a promise to the nobleman and his guards standing before him. Once they got out of earshot of this, Hero would receive a talking to that would bring up memories for either of his daughters.
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All but groaning at Demi's tug on his arm, Hector relented. His eyes flashed back to the brood of Arcanans he claimed under his unspoken care, marking each of their places his in his mind before heaving a sigh and following Demi to the stalls. In his own defense, Hector did try to entertain a moment of peace and privacy between himself and Demi, something that many others found to be their right and routine. It was regrettable that he found himself tense among large crowds, particularly with having had such a close brush with the unpredictable nature of the captial these days.
When the ostentatious caravan of foods proceeded and the sharply cadanced voice of a noble echoed over the murmuring and awed crowd, Hector pulled a face and glanced down to Demi. The way her demeanor shifted had her caught in his full attention, particularly when the flowers she held fell to the ground from her stilled hands. Bending to pick them up and return them to the merchant stand, his eyes followed the line of hers toward Lord Elias.
A snap of temper flashed in his chest as his nose flared in rage and disgust.
So, that was her client. His eyes returned to her, seeing the way she withdrew in on herself and recoiled. The thoughts that rang through his head as his eyeline returned to the grandstanding nobles formed an unseemly scowl across his features.
The two noblemen reminded him of the foolhardy, untrained adolescents who believed they could simply walk into his barracks and demand some sort of placement above cleaning latrines in their first days among the White Shields. A lick of dark humor flashed behind his eyes at the idea of the two, young men - Lord Elias and Lord Rafail - peacocked around and flounced the bounty before the other common folk in the Plateía.
He felt Demi withdraw closer to the shade of the merchant's stand, following her slightly but still standing to do his mental headcount of his flock. There was a ruckus being caused near the presentation of food and as he caught eyes with Ismene, he followed the line of the unspoken plea of help her eyes issued.
Hero.
The girl had spunk and spirit unlike anything that he had seen, her energy far surpassing that of both his girls - and most of the stoic type that he came in contact with daily. He groaned again, feeling Demi on his arm recoiling from the issue and knowing that no one else would step in to stop the girl from potential punishment if he did not.
"Wait here...or..." he started, before allowing his eyes to survey his daughters in the crowd, "Follow Ismene. I will handle Hero." Hector paused, knowing that he toed the line once again between giving an order and offering a suggestion. The moment he glanced at Demi's terrified eyes, his expression fell, brows unfurrowing a moment as he took a hand and cupped her cheek. The other one deftly dropped a single coin on the merchant's counter and procured a white daffodil, one that had survived the fall.
"You will be alright. I promise. I won't let anything happen to you."
With that, he kissed her temple and gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze before weaving and shouldering his way through the crowd as politely as a career soldier could. It did not take long before he wove through to find Hero in the madness. Much like a fish swimming upstream, he carved a path through the hungry commoners who only thought of the food laid before them.
Hector's jaw clenched as he heard Elias' order to his companion's guards to remove the girl and his eyes widened a moment as dove through the crowd again with more force, finally reaching her and putting his hand on her shoulder with a firm, guarded grip.
"Stand down," he said, years of habit giving that very order rolling off his tongue quickly, even as he stood before Lord Rafail and his guards. Bowing appropriately, Hector rose to introduce himself.
"Lord Marikas, I am Captain Hector of The White Shields. This girl is a citizen of Arcana, my province. If it is your will, I will gladly take charge of her and ensure she is seen home without any further disturbance to the festival...and that Lord Elias' order is followed." It was bold, but his word was steady and firm. Every inch of him screamed the hard-earned title he bore, and if the Lord Rafail wished to ask to it, he could ask General Lacides himself as to his position. "You have my word, My Lord. She will not be an issue any longer."
At those last words, his glare fell down to Hero, his brows furrowed. It was as much an order for her as it was a promise to the nobleman and his guards standing before him. Once they got out of earshot of this, Hero would receive a talking to that would bring up memories for either of his daughters.
All but groaning at Demi's tug on his arm, Hector relented. His eyes flashed back to the brood of Arcanans he claimed under his unspoken care, marking each of their places his in his mind before heaving a sigh and following Demi to the stalls. In his own defense, Hector did try to entertain a moment of peace and privacy between himself and Demi, something that many others found to be their right and routine. It was regrettable that he found himself tense among large crowds, particularly with having had such a close brush with the unpredictable nature of the captial these days.
When the ostentatious caravan of foods proceeded and the sharply cadanced voice of a noble echoed over the murmuring and awed crowd, Hector pulled a face and glanced down to Demi. The way her demeanor shifted had her caught in his full attention, particularly when the flowers she held fell to the ground from her stilled hands. Bending to pick them up and return them to the merchant stand, his eyes followed the line of hers toward Lord Elias.
A snap of temper flashed in his chest as his nose flared in rage and disgust.
So, that was her client. His eyes returned to her, seeing the way she withdrew in on herself and recoiled. The thoughts that rang through his head as his eyeline returned to the grandstanding nobles formed an unseemly scowl across his features.
The two noblemen reminded him of the foolhardy, untrained adolescents who believed they could simply walk into his barracks and demand some sort of placement above cleaning latrines in their first days among the White Shields. A lick of dark humor flashed behind his eyes at the idea of the two, young men - Lord Elias and Lord Rafail - peacocked around and flounced the bounty before the other common folk in the Plateía.
He felt Demi withdraw closer to the shade of the merchant's stand, following her slightly but still standing to do his mental headcount of his flock. There was a ruckus being caused near the presentation of food and as he caught eyes with Ismene, he followed the line of the unspoken plea of help her eyes issued.
Hero.
The girl had spunk and spirit unlike anything that he had seen, her energy far surpassing that of both his girls - and most of the stoic type that he came in contact with daily. He groaned again, feeling Demi on his arm recoiling from the issue and knowing that no one else would step in to stop the girl from potential punishment if he did not.
"Wait here...or..." he started, before allowing his eyes to survey his daughters in the crowd, "Follow Ismene. I will handle Hero." Hector paused, knowing that he toed the line once again between giving an order and offering a suggestion. The moment he glanced at Demi's terrified eyes, his expression fell, brows unfurrowing a moment as he took a hand and cupped her cheek. The other one deftly dropped a single coin on the merchant's counter and procured a white daffodil, one that had survived the fall.
"You will be alright. I promise. I won't let anything happen to you."
With that, he kissed her temple and gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze before weaving and shouldering his way through the crowd as politely as a career soldier could. It did not take long before he wove through to find Hero in the madness. Much like a fish swimming upstream, he carved a path through the hungry commoners who only thought of the food laid before them.
Hector's jaw clenched as he heard Elias' order to his companion's guards to remove the girl and his eyes widened a moment as dove through the crowd again with more force, finally reaching her and putting his hand on her shoulder with a firm, guarded grip.
"Stand down," he said, years of habit giving that very order rolling off his tongue quickly, even as he stood before Lord Rafail and his guards. Bowing appropriately, Hector rose to introduce himself.
"Lord Marikas, I am Captain Hector of The White Shields. This girl is a citizen of Arcana, my province. If it is your will, I will gladly take charge of her and ensure she is seen home without any further disturbance to the festival...and that Lord Elias' order is followed." It was bold, but his word was steady and firm. Every inch of him screamed the hard-earned title he bore, and if the Lord Rafail wished to ask to it, he could ask General Lacides himself as to his position. "You have my word, My Lord. She will not be an issue any longer."
At those last words, his glare fell down to Hero, his brows furrowed. It was as much an order for her as it was a promise to the nobleman and his guards standing before him. Once they got out of earshot of this, Hero would receive a talking to that would bring up memories for either of his daughters.
She had not wanted to tell Hector at all about her business in Athenia, and had fully intended to be back home in Arcana within a week. But with her month-long absence, skipping out on telling him when he had basically noticed her absence was out of the option, but Demi had instead chose to omit the name of who exactly her client was, in hopes that this would all blow over, especially after Hector had in turn informed her of all that was going on and Elias's exact role in all of this.
But she should've known better.
She had hoped that with his new rolein the palace, Elias would have been far too occupied with a festival such as this. It was why Demi had agreed to come (and also if she disagreed, it would've appeared far too suspicious), but now she had just let the cat out of the back, for Hector's reaction meant he easily guessed why Demi acted the way she did when Elias dismounted from the carriage. Her wrists still held some amount of discoloring from his treatment, and while it wasn't uncommon in her line of work, Hector had not been happy with it. The woman was not one prone to tears, but for a brief moment as Hector left, her throat choked up as if she suddenly felt immensely alone.
Not one to stand around doing nothing however, and knowing that Hector had duties to do and he had not intentionally left her, instead the brunette clutched the flower he had given her to her chest, his promise to her heart, and with the lingering sensation of his kiss upon her forehead, set out to seek for Ismene. Hero needed to be handled, and Demi had seen Ariadne by the young princess's side, which meant at least the girl was taken care of. At least she had to locate Ismene, as Hector busied himself with his other charge.
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She had not wanted to tell Hector at all about her business in Athenia, and had fully intended to be back home in Arcana within a week. But with her month-long absence, skipping out on telling him when he had basically noticed her absence was out of the option, but Demi had instead chose to omit the name of who exactly her client was, in hopes that this would all blow over, especially after Hector had in turn informed her of all that was going on and Elias's exact role in all of this.
But she should've known better.
She had hoped that with his new rolein the palace, Elias would have been far too occupied with a festival such as this. It was why Demi had agreed to come (and also if she disagreed, it would've appeared far too suspicious), but now she had just let the cat out of the back, for Hector's reaction meant he easily guessed why Demi acted the way she did when Elias dismounted from the carriage. Her wrists still held some amount of discoloring from his treatment, and while it wasn't uncommon in her line of work, Hector had not been happy with it. The woman was not one prone to tears, but for a brief moment as Hector left, her throat choked up as if she suddenly felt immensely alone.
Not one to stand around doing nothing however, and knowing that Hector had duties to do and he had not intentionally left her, instead the brunette clutched the flower he had given her to her chest, his promise to her heart, and with the lingering sensation of his kiss upon her forehead, set out to seek for Ismene. Hero needed to be handled, and Demi had seen Ariadne by the young princess's side, which meant at least the girl was taken care of. At least she had to locate Ismene, as Hector busied himself with his other charge.
She had not wanted to tell Hector at all about her business in Athenia, and had fully intended to be back home in Arcana within a week. But with her month-long absence, skipping out on telling him when he had basically noticed her absence was out of the option, but Demi had instead chose to omit the name of who exactly her client was, in hopes that this would all blow over, especially after Hector had in turn informed her of all that was going on and Elias's exact role in all of this.
But she should've known better.
She had hoped that with his new rolein the palace, Elias would have been far too occupied with a festival such as this. It was why Demi had agreed to come (and also if she disagreed, it would've appeared far too suspicious), but now she had just let the cat out of the back, for Hector's reaction meant he easily guessed why Demi acted the way she did when Elias dismounted from the carriage. Her wrists still held some amount of discoloring from his treatment, and while it wasn't uncommon in her line of work, Hector had not been happy with it. The woman was not one prone to tears, but for a brief moment as Hector left, her throat choked up as if she suddenly felt immensely alone.
Not one to stand around doing nothing however, and knowing that Hector had duties to do and he had not intentionally left her, instead the brunette clutched the flower he had given her to her chest, his promise to her heart, and with the lingering sensation of his kiss upon her forehead, set out to seek for Ismene. Hero needed to be handled, and Demi had seen Ariadne by the young princess's side, which meant at least the girl was taken care of. At least she had to locate Ismene, as Hector busied himself with his other charge.
Kalypso was not a merciful slave. In fact, she was very selfish. She much preferred her station as a slave to Elias than any other station she had. Especially when the benefits included teasing and seducing the male. Neither of which she would confess to anyone, only a secretive smile and questioning of her actions would result in her putting on the humble act. To those who didn’t know her, it seemed natural for a slave to be humble, but for those who did, they would see through her act.
As it was, she was holding Elias upright because the man had decided to lower his inhibitions in public through the pursuit of liquid elixir. Wine, which was a common commodity, yet one that the Stravos heir engorged himself upon. If she had less twisted morals, she would have asked him to partake less, but she needed a reason to be excused by the haughty man, if only to gather information.
Why was she gathering information, she did not know, and perhaps if Elias played his cards right, he would have an informant as well as a personal attendant. However, now, she was amused and disappointed in his drunken display. She expected more bravado and cleverness from the man who had tried to seduce her, to make her know her station, even if such actions were only partially successful.
Attached? Was she attached to the man? She would like to laugh such thoughts off, however after weeks of living with him, she had to admit her plan to snare him as much as she liked was working more on her than on him. However, as long as she kept her station and did everything that was necessary, with some exceptions that showed her personality, all would be well.
So as she heard her master’s words, she listened for her own instructions, knowing that they would come soon. Would they align with her plans to meet the common and noble folk who graced the plateia? It seemed rather likely as he released her waist, leaving her alone in the carriage for a moment. Quickly following, she made her way to Rafail, a smile graced on her lips. “My lordship has instructed me to assist you. Do let me know how I can help.”
Were her words slightly flirtatious? That was indeed a possibility, however, both Rafail and Kalypso knew that in public, it simply wasn’t to be acted upon, lest she forget her place as a slave. Gazing upon the abundance of food, baskets and vases filled with many different assortments, she overheard Elias talking to the guards. So, he sought to not be approached? Very wise, especially in his current inebriated condition.
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Kalypso was not a merciful slave. In fact, she was very selfish. She much preferred her station as a slave to Elias than any other station she had. Especially when the benefits included teasing and seducing the male. Neither of which she would confess to anyone, only a secretive smile and questioning of her actions would result in her putting on the humble act. To those who didn’t know her, it seemed natural for a slave to be humble, but for those who did, they would see through her act.
As it was, she was holding Elias upright because the man had decided to lower his inhibitions in public through the pursuit of liquid elixir. Wine, which was a common commodity, yet one that the Stravos heir engorged himself upon. If she had less twisted morals, she would have asked him to partake less, but she needed a reason to be excused by the haughty man, if only to gather information.
Why was she gathering information, she did not know, and perhaps if Elias played his cards right, he would have an informant as well as a personal attendant. However, now, she was amused and disappointed in his drunken display. She expected more bravado and cleverness from the man who had tried to seduce her, to make her know her station, even if such actions were only partially successful.
Attached? Was she attached to the man? She would like to laugh such thoughts off, however after weeks of living with him, she had to admit her plan to snare him as much as she liked was working more on her than on him. However, as long as she kept her station and did everything that was necessary, with some exceptions that showed her personality, all would be well.
So as she heard her master’s words, she listened for her own instructions, knowing that they would come soon. Would they align with her plans to meet the common and noble folk who graced the plateia? It seemed rather likely as he released her waist, leaving her alone in the carriage for a moment. Quickly following, she made her way to Rafail, a smile graced on her lips. “My lordship has instructed me to assist you. Do let me know how I can help.”
Were her words slightly flirtatious? That was indeed a possibility, however, both Rafail and Kalypso knew that in public, it simply wasn’t to be acted upon, lest she forget her place as a slave. Gazing upon the abundance of food, baskets and vases filled with many different assortments, she overheard Elias talking to the guards. So, he sought to not be approached? Very wise, especially in his current inebriated condition.
Kalypso was not a merciful slave. In fact, she was very selfish. She much preferred her station as a slave to Elias than any other station she had. Especially when the benefits included teasing and seducing the male. Neither of which she would confess to anyone, only a secretive smile and questioning of her actions would result in her putting on the humble act. To those who didn’t know her, it seemed natural for a slave to be humble, but for those who did, they would see through her act.
As it was, she was holding Elias upright because the man had decided to lower his inhibitions in public through the pursuit of liquid elixir. Wine, which was a common commodity, yet one that the Stravos heir engorged himself upon. If she had less twisted morals, she would have asked him to partake less, but she needed a reason to be excused by the haughty man, if only to gather information.
Why was she gathering information, she did not know, and perhaps if Elias played his cards right, he would have an informant as well as a personal attendant. However, now, she was amused and disappointed in his drunken display. She expected more bravado and cleverness from the man who had tried to seduce her, to make her know her station, even if such actions were only partially successful.
Attached? Was she attached to the man? She would like to laugh such thoughts off, however after weeks of living with him, she had to admit her plan to snare him as much as she liked was working more on her than on him. However, as long as she kept her station and did everything that was necessary, with some exceptions that showed her personality, all would be well.
So as she heard her master’s words, she listened for her own instructions, knowing that they would come soon. Would they align with her plans to meet the common and noble folk who graced the plateia? It seemed rather likely as he released her waist, leaving her alone in the carriage for a moment. Quickly following, she made her way to Rafail, a smile graced on her lips. “My lordship has instructed me to assist you. Do let me know how I can help.”
Were her words slightly flirtatious? That was indeed a possibility, however, both Rafail and Kalypso knew that in public, it simply wasn’t to be acted upon, lest she forget her place as a slave. Gazing upon the abundance of food, baskets and vases filled with many different assortments, she overheard Elias talking to the guards. So, he sought to not be approached? Very wise, especially in his current inebriated condition.
Curveball Resting On Golden Laurels
At the declaration of the young peasant girl's loyalty to the absent Queen Persephone, others voices raise in support. Delayed they might have been for fear of reaction, they rise at the Lord Elias and Lord Rafail's determination to spurn the legal monarch of the nation.
In response, disagreeing voices of anger rise up from the other side of the argument, making accusations of cowardice and weakness in their missing Queen. Words of support for Lord Elias and disgust towards the inactive Princess Emilia start to ripple through the crowd, dividing opinions and fealties.
In the chaos, violence is slow but still there; a few shoves, a few pulls... until a rotten piece of fruit is thrown through the air. Unsure whether it was aimed for the princess or the man beside her, the reality is that Emilia is, a heartbeat later, struck in the side of the head with the broken flesh and juices of an old and sticky piece of passionfruit.
JD
Staff Team
JD
Staff Team
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At the declaration of the young peasant girl's loyalty to the absent Queen Persephone, others voices raise in support. Delayed they might have been for fear of reaction, they rise at the Lord Elias and Lord Rafail's determination to spurn the legal monarch of the nation.
In response, disagreeing voices of anger rise up from the other side of the argument, making accusations of cowardice and weakness in their missing Queen. Words of support for Lord Elias and disgust towards the inactive Princess Emilia start to ripple through the crowd, dividing opinions and fealties.
In the chaos, violence is slow but still there; a few shoves, a few pulls... until a rotten piece of fruit is thrown through the air. Unsure whether it was aimed for the princess or the man beside her, the reality is that Emilia is, a heartbeat later, struck in the side of the head with the broken flesh and juices of an old and sticky piece of passionfruit.
Curveball Resting On Golden Laurels
At the declaration of the young peasant girl's loyalty to the absent Queen Persephone, others voices raise in support. Delayed they might have been for fear of reaction, they rise at the Lord Elias and Lord Rafail's determination to spurn the legal monarch of the nation.
In response, disagreeing voices of anger rise up from the other side of the argument, making accusations of cowardice and weakness in their missing Queen. Words of support for Lord Elias and disgust towards the inactive Princess Emilia start to ripple through the crowd, dividing opinions and fealties.
In the chaos, violence is slow but still there; a few shoves, a few pulls... until a rotten piece of fruit is thrown through the air. Unsure whether it was aimed for the princess or the man beside her, the reality is that Emilia is, a heartbeat later, struck in the side of the head with the broken flesh and juices of an old and sticky piece of passionfruit.
What was supposed to be Elias of Stravos' solace from the building tensions of the kingdom politics was slowly turning into his personal slice of Hades.
The Headlord of Stravos meant to celebrate his achievements, his machinations of more than a month's effort in quelling the perceptions of the Queen, of consolidating his power and gaining traction in the palati. Everything that Elias of Stravos had worked for was meant to culminate in this beautiful crescendo, the heroic act of serving the people of Athenia their season's bounty. And yet, rather than show gratitude, rather than show reverence, some of the people decided to turn their backs on the generosity of the rightful king of Athenia. Elias felt his intoxication wither sway entirely, his posture straight as honeyed hues narrowed with distaste. He could hear the voices of dissent in the crowd far louder than the voices that cried out in thanks.
And it was sickening.
Anger burned as a fire within Elias of Stravos' chest, and as those cold, calculating eyes bore along the expanse of the masses, he caught the sight of those who supported his rise to power. He saw his father, keeping his distance from him and entreating the princess' attention. He saw his sister, doing whatever it was that Danae did in the vicinity of her father. Elias hardly trusted his 'dear' sister anymore, and her input was the least of his concerns as he found the visage of his mother. His vision was sharp once again, and when he saw the disapproval in her own gaze, he almost wanted to laugh. Was it because of this that it was wrong for Elias to drink and celebrate? Was it inevitable that the wretches would fail to show their appreciation for what he was doing?
Was Elias of Stravos so easily seen through or was tradition so easily abandoned in the face of a woman who'd abandoned the kingdom and allowed the Stravos to plunge Athenia into chaos for his own sake? The fire burned in his chest, it rose within his throat. Impatience wedged itself deeply within his mind as, at last, Emilia of Xanthos approached him. The pair were in solidarity, divided from the crowd.
"Let none of them grow closer. Protect the princess with your --"
Elias of Stravos was cut off by the almost comical collision of fruit against the face of his companion. Fingers reached out for a guard to hand his himation over to Elias of Stravos. He did not speak, merely gesturing to the princess before he dabbed the juice from her cheeks and threw the garment back over towards the guard, flippant in his dismissal of them. Elias of Stravos let his arms surround Emilia's waist, pulling her into his chest as he clicked for his guard.
"Use your shields, beat down the closest to you. Silence the rowdiness of the crowd and bring their attention to me."
Elias didn't want to appear so unmerciful to Emilia, but it was a necessity now. "The people are confused, Emilia. They need to be shown and educated. They don't know what's transpired since they last saw you," he assured her. He pressed his lips briefly to her forehead before he stepped away from her.
"Enough!" he shouted out, his throat strained with the force of his bellow. He crossed his arms over his chest as he took the golden laurel from over his head. The ensemble now, seeing that Elias was not being hailed by all as the hero he deserved to be known as, seemed ridiculous. He was hot under the golden wreath, and he gave it to Emilia for her to hold before he said,
"Whomever threw that piece of fruit... know that you've assaulted the future Queen of Athenia. Know that you've assaulted the betrothed of the soon-to-be King."
Surely, heads would turn at the presumptuous announcement. Elias turned back to Emilia, his lips curved into a smile before he reached for her hand. His free one cupped along Emilia's jawline, keeping her gaze for a moment before he said,
"It's time for the kingdom to know. I hoped to tell them over the feast, when all of the land's gullets were satisfied. But, if none of you can stay silent and stop fighting amongst yourselves for long enough to let it be revealed. Then let it be known, now! Elias of Stravos and Emilia of Xanthos are to be wed! No longer will this kingdom toil without monarchs to rule and impose the changes needed for us to flourish. All of you, supporters or otherwise, learn the identity of your future rulers and feast in celebration of the future you have been offered."
Elias scoffed at the foolishness of the worms that languished beneath their feet. Every time he meant to be merciful, it was met with resistance. Did these fools live to be humbled? The kingdom was tearing itself apart more than he'd hoped, and while part of him was pleased with the degree his efforts had succeeded with, he was displeased with just how even the argument of the kingdom seemed to be. He'd made his announcement now, and Elias of Stravos would show the wretches if they did not relent the force privy only to those who were born to wear the crown of Athenia would obligate them to.
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What was supposed to be Elias of Stravos' solace from the building tensions of the kingdom politics was slowly turning into his personal slice of Hades.
The Headlord of Stravos meant to celebrate his achievements, his machinations of more than a month's effort in quelling the perceptions of the Queen, of consolidating his power and gaining traction in the palati. Everything that Elias of Stravos had worked for was meant to culminate in this beautiful crescendo, the heroic act of serving the people of Athenia their season's bounty. And yet, rather than show gratitude, rather than show reverence, some of the people decided to turn their backs on the generosity of the rightful king of Athenia. Elias felt his intoxication wither sway entirely, his posture straight as honeyed hues narrowed with distaste. He could hear the voices of dissent in the crowd far louder than the voices that cried out in thanks.
And it was sickening.
Anger burned as a fire within Elias of Stravos' chest, and as those cold, calculating eyes bore along the expanse of the masses, he caught the sight of those who supported his rise to power. He saw his father, keeping his distance from him and entreating the princess' attention. He saw his sister, doing whatever it was that Danae did in the vicinity of her father. Elias hardly trusted his 'dear' sister anymore, and her input was the least of his concerns as he found the visage of his mother. His vision was sharp once again, and when he saw the disapproval in her own gaze, he almost wanted to laugh. Was it because of this that it was wrong for Elias to drink and celebrate? Was it inevitable that the wretches would fail to show their appreciation for what he was doing?
Was Elias of Stravos so easily seen through or was tradition so easily abandoned in the face of a woman who'd abandoned the kingdom and allowed the Stravos to plunge Athenia into chaos for his own sake? The fire burned in his chest, it rose within his throat. Impatience wedged itself deeply within his mind as, at last, Emilia of Xanthos approached him. The pair were in solidarity, divided from the crowd.
"Let none of them grow closer. Protect the princess with your --"
Elias of Stravos was cut off by the almost comical collision of fruit against the face of his companion. Fingers reached out for a guard to hand his himation over to Elias of Stravos. He did not speak, merely gesturing to the princess before he dabbed the juice from her cheeks and threw the garment back over towards the guard, flippant in his dismissal of them. Elias of Stravos let his arms surround Emilia's waist, pulling her into his chest as he clicked for his guard.
"Use your shields, beat down the closest to you. Silence the rowdiness of the crowd and bring their attention to me."
Elias didn't want to appear so unmerciful to Emilia, but it was a necessity now. "The people are confused, Emilia. They need to be shown and educated. They don't know what's transpired since they last saw you," he assured her. He pressed his lips briefly to her forehead before he stepped away from her.
"Enough!" he shouted out, his throat strained with the force of his bellow. He crossed his arms over his chest as he took the golden laurel from over his head. The ensemble now, seeing that Elias was not being hailed by all as the hero he deserved to be known as, seemed ridiculous. He was hot under the golden wreath, and he gave it to Emilia for her to hold before he said,
"Whomever threw that piece of fruit... know that you've assaulted the future Queen of Athenia. Know that you've assaulted the betrothed of the soon-to-be King."
Surely, heads would turn at the presumptuous announcement. Elias turned back to Emilia, his lips curved into a smile before he reached for her hand. His free one cupped along Emilia's jawline, keeping her gaze for a moment before he said,
"It's time for the kingdom to know. I hoped to tell them over the feast, when all of the land's gullets were satisfied. But, if none of you can stay silent and stop fighting amongst yourselves for long enough to let it be revealed. Then let it be known, now! Elias of Stravos and Emilia of Xanthos are to be wed! No longer will this kingdom toil without monarchs to rule and impose the changes needed for us to flourish. All of you, supporters or otherwise, learn the identity of your future rulers and feast in celebration of the future you have been offered."
Elias scoffed at the foolishness of the worms that languished beneath their feet. Every time he meant to be merciful, it was met with resistance. Did these fools live to be humbled? The kingdom was tearing itself apart more than he'd hoped, and while part of him was pleased with the degree his efforts had succeeded with, he was displeased with just how even the argument of the kingdom seemed to be. He'd made his announcement now, and Elias of Stravos would show the wretches if they did not relent the force privy only to those who were born to wear the crown of Athenia would obligate them to.
What was supposed to be Elias of Stravos' solace from the building tensions of the kingdom politics was slowly turning into his personal slice of Hades.
The Headlord of Stravos meant to celebrate his achievements, his machinations of more than a month's effort in quelling the perceptions of the Queen, of consolidating his power and gaining traction in the palati. Everything that Elias of Stravos had worked for was meant to culminate in this beautiful crescendo, the heroic act of serving the people of Athenia their season's bounty. And yet, rather than show gratitude, rather than show reverence, some of the people decided to turn their backs on the generosity of the rightful king of Athenia. Elias felt his intoxication wither sway entirely, his posture straight as honeyed hues narrowed with distaste. He could hear the voices of dissent in the crowd far louder than the voices that cried out in thanks.
And it was sickening.
Anger burned as a fire within Elias of Stravos' chest, and as those cold, calculating eyes bore along the expanse of the masses, he caught the sight of those who supported his rise to power. He saw his father, keeping his distance from him and entreating the princess' attention. He saw his sister, doing whatever it was that Danae did in the vicinity of her father. Elias hardly trusted his 'dear' sister anymore, and her input was the least of his concerns as he found the visage of his mother. His vision was sharp once again, and when he saw the disapproval in her own gaze, he almost wanted to laugh. Was it because of this that it was wrong for Elias to drink and celebrate? Was it inevitable that the wretches would fail to show their appreciation for what he was doing?
Was Elias of Stravos so easily seen through or was tradition so easily abandoned in the face of a woman who'd abandoned the kingdom and allowed the Stravos to plunge Athenia into chaos for his own sake? The fire burned in his chest, it rose within his throat. Impatience wedged itself deeply within his mind as, at last, Emilia of Xanthos approached him. The pair were in solidarity, divided from the crowd.
"Let none of them grow closer. Protect the princess with your --"
Elias of Stravos was cut off by the almost comical collision of fruit against the face of his companion. Fingers reached out for a guard to hand his himation over to Elias of Stravos. He did not speak, merely gesturing to the princess before he dabbed the juice from her cheeks and threw the garment back over towards the guard, flippant in his dismissal of them. Elias of Stravos let his arms surround Emilia's waist, pulling her into his chest as he clicked for his guard.
"Use your shields, beat down the closest to you. Silence the rowdiness of the crowd and bring their attention to me."
Elias didn't want to appear so unmerciful to Emilia, but it was a necessity now. "The people are confused, Emilia. They need to be shown and educated. They don't know what's transpired since they last saw you," he assured her. He pressed his lips briefly to her forehead before he stepped away from her.
"Enough!" he shouted out, his throat strained with the force of his bellow. He crossed his arms over his chest as he took the golden laurel from over his head. The ensemble now, seeing that Elias was not being hailed by all as the hero he deserved to be known as, seemed ridiculous. He was hot under the golden wreath, and he gave it to Emilia for her to hold before he said,
"Whomever threw that piece of fruit... know that you've assaulted the future Queen of Athenia. Know that you've assaulted the betrothed of the soon-to-be King."
Surely, heads would turn at the presumptuous announcement. Elias turned back to Emilia, his lips curved into a smile before he reached for her hand. His free one cupped along Emilia's jawline, keeping her gaze for a moment before he said,
"It's time for the kingdom to know. I hoped to tell them over the feast, when all of the land's gullets were satisfied. But, if none of you can stay silent and stop fighting amongst yourselves for long enough to let it be revealed. Then let it be known, now! Elias of Stravos and Emilia of Xanthos are to be wed! No longer will this kingdom toil without monarchs to rule and impose the changes needed for us to flourish. All of you, supporters or otherwise, learn the identity of your future rulers and feast in celebration of the future you have been offered."
Elias scoffed at the foolishness of the worms that languished beneath their feet. Every time he meant to be merciful, it was met with resistance. Did these fools live to be humbled? The kingdom was tearing itself apart more than he'd hoped, and while part of him was pleased with the degree his efforts had succeeded with, he was displeased with just how even the argument of the kingdom seemed to be. He'd made his announcement now, and Elias of Stravos would show the wretches if they did not relent the force privy only to those who were born to wear the crown of Athenia would obligate them to.
The plateau was already bustling, common and nobility alike, and it made Cicero uneasy. One didn’t need to be a spymaster to know already the dislike towards the nobility growing amongst the citizens of Athenia. It was why he’d pressed that address upon Elysia, why he'd refused to bring the children here today. The city was a simmering pot of discontent, at a rolling boil. With Elysia melting away from his side to accost one of those twins who kept popping up everywhere, Cicero’s pale blue gaze met that of the girl’s father. Whether the Captain’s stare was intended in warning or no, the spymaster simply raised his brows and shrugged slightly before letting his eyes move on. He would not explain himself nor Elysia to the man. A conversation was only a conversation after all. Until it was not.
As far as human beings went, Cicero did not think unfavourably of Hector of Arcana. For a man of his age, there was little scandalous in his past. He kept that courtesan close to him, Cicero noted, and actually he found her altogether more interesting. Many secrets were divulged in moments of weakness between a man and a woman. Perhaps he should try and catch a moment with her before the day was through. He’d heard a whisper that intimated the woman had been warming a palace bed these past days, and that might prove useful. Either that or the little slave girl that Lord Elias paraded around with him.
Almost as if the man’s thoughts had summoned him, there was a vague murmur in the crowd as two chariots arrived, with the kind of fanfare Cicero would expect from the young bucks who thought themselves that much greater than their worth. Lord Rafail’s crowing was foolish, he thought, for the minds of a crown could be easily turned, and bad mouthing the Xanthos a reckless tactic. And of course, the food. The same food he knew for a fact had been deliberately held back, raising the appetites of the poor so they would then fall upon this feast and the false words served with it. Cicero felt his disdain for the Stravos Lord grow, even as he shifted through the crowds to get closer.
Elias was a sloppy drunk, he mused, seeking out Elysia with his gaze even though he did not want to think about her with him. It made his work feel personal and Cicero did not like to muddy his profession with anything of the sort.
Over and above the slurred arrogance of the Stravos Lord, a voice cut from the crowd, and the tall master of secrets was quick to find its source: a young girl with more morality than sense speaking out against the bragging of those deemed better than her. It again was like pouring oil on a flame, he could feel the subdued tension in the crowd growing. He mapped out the position of those important players, just in case, and wished he had told Elysia not to embed herself too deeply in the throngs. Moving to intercept her and relay such a warning, Cicero instead found his path cross with that of the Lady Circenia, and he dipped in a bow as befitting the woman’s station.
“Your highness” Cicero intoned as he straightened. The Stravos woman was a clever one, and a person that he was careful around. He was glad the icy expression she wore was directed at her fool of a son rather than himself. “The young Lords make a good show” he said, speaking to the foodstuffs being offered, but also making a subtle reference to what he guessed was the woman’s source of irritation. And then his own “And yet I fear are a little unwise in their speech”
He was still wary of the mood of the crowd, and rightly so, there was some shoving and heckling, but before the Master of Secrets could express such concern to the Stravos matriarch, there was a collective gasp as the young Princess was hit with a piece of thrown fruit. Cicero grimaced in distaste. Princess Emilia should not have been left so exposed as for such a thing to happen, nor should arrogant young men be allowed to run their mouths in front of a hostile crowd. This was what occurred when a Kingdom was presided over by imbeciles.
“Might I suggest your highness moves to the edge of the crowd and keeps her guards close?” Cicero muttered, already expecting some vicious response from the soldiers. What he had not expected, however -and by the Gods it infuriated him to be caught unawares- was the announcement that followed. A betrothal?! Was Lord Elias that drunk? But the Princess did not deny such a thing, and Cicero felt his temper flare at coming to learn such an intent so late. With an impassive expression upon his face, gaze still fixed upon Lord Elias and Princess Emilia, the spymaster directed his words to the woman beside him as a question. “Felicitations are in order then, Lady Circenia. A wedding. How splendid”
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The plateau was already bustling, common and nobility alike, and it made Cicero uneasy. One didn’t need to be a spymaster to know already the dislike towards the nobility growing amongst the citizens of Athenia. It was why he’d pressed that address upon Elysia, why he'd refused to bring the children here today. The city was a simmering pot of discontent, at a rolling boil. With Elysia melting away from his side to accost one of those twins who kept popping up everywhere, Cicero’s pale blue gaze met that of the girl’s father. Whether the Captain’s stare was intended in warning or no, the spymaster simply raised his brows and shrugged slightly before letting his eyes move on. He would not explain himself nor Elysia to the man. A conversation was only a conversation after all. Until it was not.
As far as human beings went, Cicero did not think unfavourably of Hector of Arcana. For a man of his age, there was little scandalous in his past. He kept that courtesan close to him, Cicero noted, and actually he found her altogether more interesting. Many secrets were divulged in moments of weakness between a man and a woman. Perhaps he should try and catch a moment with her before the day was through. He’d heard a whisper that intimated the woman had been warming a palace bed these past days, and that might prove useful. Either that or the little slave girl that Lord Elias paraded around with him.
Almost as if the man’s thoughts had summoned him, there was a vague murmur in the crowd as two chariots arrived, with the kind of fanfare Cicero would expect from the young bucks who thought themselves that much greater than their worth. Lord Rafail’s crowing was foolish, he thought, for the minds of a crown could be easily turned, and bad mouthing the Xanthos a reckless tactic. And of course, the food. The same food he knew for a fact had been deliberately held back, raising the appetites of the poor so they would then fall upon this feast and the false words served with it. Cicero felt his disdain for the Stravos Lord grow, even as he shifted through the crowds to get closer.
Elias was a sloppy drunk, he mused, seeking out Elysia with his gaze even though he did not want to think about her with him. It made his work feel personal and Cicero did not like to muddy his profession with anything of the sort.
Over and above the slurred arrogance of the Stravos Lord, a voice cut from the crowd, and the tall master of secrets was quick to find its source: a young girl with more morality than sense speaking out against the bragging of those deemed better than her. It again was like pouring oil on a flame, he could feel the subdued tension in the crowd growing. He mapped out the position of those important players, just in case, and wished he had told Elysia not to embed herself too deeply in the throngs. Moving to intercept her and relay such a warning, Cicero instead found his path cross with that of the Lady Circenia, and he dipped in a bow as befitting the woman’s station.
“Your highness” Cicero intoned as he straightened. The Stravos woman was a clever one, and a person that he was careful around. He was glad the icy expression she wore was directed at her fool of a son rather than himself. “The young Lords make a good show” he said, speaking to the foodstuffs being offered, but also making a subtle reference to what he guessed was the woman’s source of irritation. And then his own “And yet I fear are a little unwise in their speech”
He was still wary of the mood of the crowd, and rightly so, there was some shoving and heckling, but before the Master of Secrets could express such concern to the Stravos matriarch, there was a collective gasp as the young Princess was hit with a piece of thrown fruit. Cicero grimaced in distaste. Princess Emilia should not have been left so exposed as for such a thing to happen, nor should arrogant young men be allowed to run their mouths in front of a hostile crowd. This was what occurred when a Kingdom was presided over by imbeciles.
“Might I suggest your highness moves to the edge of the crowd and keeps her guards close?” Cicero muttered, already expecting some vicious response from the soldiers. What he had not expected, however -and by the Gods it infuriated him to be caught unawares- was the announcement that followed. A betrothal?! Was Lord Elias that drunk? But the Princess did not deny such a thing, and Cicero felt his temper flare at coming to learn such an intent so late. With an impassive expression upon his face, gaze still fixed upon Lord Elias and Princess Emilia, the spymaster directed his words to the woman beside him as a question. “Felicitations are in order then, Lady Circenia. A wedding. How splendid”
The plateau was already bustling, common and nobility alike, and it made Cicero uneasy. One didn’t need to be a spymaster to know already the dislike towards the nobility growing amongst the citizens of Athenia. It was why he’d pressed that address upon Elysia, why he'd refused to bring the children here today. The city was a simmering pot of discontent, at a rolling boil. With Elysia melting away from his side to accost one of those twins who kept popping up everywhere, Cicero’s pale blue gaze met that of the girl’s father. Whether the Captain’s stare was intended in warning or no, the spymaster simply raised his brows and shrugged slightly before letting his eyes move on. He would not explain himself nor Elysia to the man. A conversation was only a conversation after all. Until it was not.
As far as human beings went, Cicero did not think unfavourably of Hector of Arcana. For a man of his age, there was little scandalous in his past. He kept that courtesan close to him, Cicero noted, and actually he found her altogether more interesting. Many secrets were divulged in moments of weakness between a man and a woman. Perhaps he should try and catch a moment with her before the day was through. He’d heard a whisper that intimated the woman had been warming a palace bed these past days, and that might prove useful. Either that or the little slave girl that Lord Elias paraded around with him.
Almost as if the man’s thoughts had summoned him, there was a vague murmur in the crowd as two chariots arrived, with the kind of fanfare Cicero would expect from the young bucks who thought themselves that much greater than their worth. Lord Rafail’s crowing was foolish, he thought, for the minds of a crown could be easily turned, and bad mouthing the Xanthos a reckless tactic. And of course, the food. The same food he knew for a fact had been deliberately held back, raising the appetites of the poor so they would then fall upon this feast and the false words served with it. Cicero felt his disdain for the Stravos Lord grow, even as he shifted through the crowds to get closer.
Elias was a sloppy drunk, he mused, seeking out Elysia with his gaze even though he did not want to think about her with him. It made his work feel personal and Cicero did not like to muddy his profession with anything of the sort.
Over and above the slurred arrogance of the Stravos Lord, a voice cut from the crowd, and the tall master of secrets was quick to find its source: a young girl with more morality than sense speaking out against the bragging of those deemed better than her. It again was like pouring oil on a flame, he could feel the subdued tension in the crowd growing. He mapped out the position of those important players, just in case, and wished he had told Elysia not to embed herself too deeply in the throngs. Moving to intercept her and relay such a warning, Cicero instead found his path cross with that of the Lady Circenia, and he dipped in a bow as befitting the woman’s station.
“Your highness” Cicero intoned as he straightened. The Stravos woman was a clever one, and a person that he was careful around. He was glad the icy expression she wore was directed at her fool of a son rather than himself. “The young Lords make a good show” he said, speaking to the foodstuffs being offered, but also making a subtle reference to what he guessed was the woman’s source of irritation. And then his own “And yet I fear are a little unwise in their speech”
He was still wary of the mood of the crowd, and rightly so, there was some shoving and heckling, but before the Master of Secrets could express such concern to the Stravos matriarch, there was a collective gasp as the young Princess was hit with a piece of thrown fruit. Cicero grimaced in distaste. Princess Emilia should not have been left so exposed as for such a thing to happen, nor should arrogant young men be allowed to run their mouths in front of a hostile crowd. This was what occurred when a Kingdom was presided over by imbeciles.
“Might I suggest your highness moves to the edge of the crowd and keeps her guards close?” Cicero muttered, already expecting some vicious response from the soldiers. What he had not expected, however -and by the Gods it infuriated him to be caught unawares- was the announcement that followed. A betrothal?! Was Lord Elias that drunk? But the Princess did not deny such a thing, and Cicero felt his temper flare at coming to learn such an intent so late. With an impassive expression upon his face, gaze still fixed upon Lord Elias and Princess Emilia, the spymaster directed his words to the woman beside him as a question. “Felicitations are in order then, Lady Circenia. A wedding. How splendid”
Keikelius pretended his own daughter didn't exist in this realm of interaction. He was silently pleased that Emilia took his arm as had been offered to her and he carefully let his free hand drift over to rest atop hers. They awlked together, his gaze drifting slightly to Danae, Lesley, and Aridne each in turn, observing each one with a keen and skeptical eye. It was difficult for him to write off his own daughter, especially with them being so similar to each other. Circenia had no doubt told the children what Keikelius' plan was so he had little to worry about. He even gave only the barest glance to his eldest daughter, leaving Chara behind as the group started to move together.
For Emilia's part, she seemed to play well and easily into his game, agreeing with him somewhat verbally about Queen Persephone. That was a good sign. It meant that her faith in her sister was not gone, and that could be used against her. Bribery and blackmail to keep her doing what the Stravos wanted. Elias had more than likely already figured that much out, she Keikelius didn't think to relay any sort of information in that vein.
Heading for the merchant stalls, Keikelius watched the movement of the world around them, listening closely to the soft lilt of Emilia's voice. Her question brought a slight frown to his features and he shook his head just slightly. "I didn't, my princess," he said calmly, "I had no idea they would bring such a show to Athenia," he added, letting his tone show is own quiet disappointment in the situation before them.
And that was all he was able to say to her before the voice of a young Athenian girl touting Queen Persephone's claim brought on a cressendo of agreement and dissent almost in one breath. Able to see where this would be heading in only moments, Lord Keikelius moved to put himself between the princess and anyone else from the front, glad that Emilia had had her guard follow behind. Twisting her delicately behind him, his dark brows knitted into something akin to irritation and anger at the rowdiness of both sides of the festival.
He only needed to blink and Elias had sent his guards toward them, taking over as protector of the princess. Keikelius took this as his chance to give Princess Emilia an unsure look before he ducked between the soldiers, disappearing further into the crown in order to separate himself from his family, more specifically his son. He needed people to see that he was doing everything he could to avoid the man, so he shouldered his way through the angering crowds and paused toward the outskirts.
The announcement of an engagement was not surprising, and Keikelius crossed his arms almost bitterly against his chest. He did not agree with the parading, but if that was what it took to calm either side of the angry crowd, then Keikelius would accept it as fact. For now.
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Keikelius pretended his own daughter didn't exist in this realm of interaction. He was silently pleased that Emilia took his arm as had been offered to her and he carefully let his free hand drift over to rest atop hers. They awlked together, his gaze drifting slightly to Danae, Lesley, and Aridne each in turn, observing each one with a keen and skeptical eye. It was difficult for him to write off his own daughter, especially with them being so similar to each other. Circenia had no doubt told the children what Keikelius' plan was so he had little to worry about. He even gave only the barest glance to his eldest daughter, leaving Chara behind as the group started to move together.
For Emilia's part, she seemed to play well and easily into his game, agreeing with him somewhat verbally about Queen Persephone. That was a good sign. It meant that her faith in her sister was not gone, and that could be used against her. Bribery and blackmail to keep her doing what the Stravos wanted. Elias had more than likely already figured that much out, she Keikelius didn't think to relay any sort of information in that vein.
Heading for the merchant stalls, Keikelius watched the movement of the world around them, listening closely to the soft lilt of Emilia's voice. Her question brought a slight frown to his features and he shook his head just slightly. "I didn't, my princess," he said calmly, "I had no idea they would bring such a show to Athenia," he added, letting his tone show is own quiet disappointment in the situation before them.
And that was all he was able to say to her before the voice of a young Athenian girl touting Queen Persephone's claim brought on a cressendo of agreement and dissent almost in one breath. Able to see where this would be heading in only moments, Lord Keikelius moved to put himself between the princess and anyone else from the front, glad that Emilia had had her guard follow behind. Twisting her delicately behind him, his dark brows knitted into something akin to irritation and anger at the rowdiness of both sides of the festival.
He only needed to blink and Elias had sent his guards toward them, taking over as protector of the princess. Keikelius took this as his chance to give Princess Emilia an unsure look before he ducked between the soldiers, disappearing further into the crown in order to separate himself from his family, more specifically his son. He needed people to see that he was doing everything he could to avoid the man, so he shouldered his way through the angering crowds and paused toward the outskirts.
The announcement of an engagement was not surprising, and Keikelius crossed his arms almost bitterly against his chest. He did not agree with the parading, but if that was what it took to calm either side of the angry crowd, then Keikelius would accept it as fact. For now.
Keikelius pretended his own daughter didn't exist in this realm of interaction. He was silently pleased that Emilia took his arm as had been offered to her and he carefully let his free hand drift over to rest atop hers. They awlked together, his gaze drifting slightly to Danae, Lesley, and Aridne each in turn, observing each one with a keen and skeptical eye. It was difficult for him to write off his own daughter, especially with them being so similar to each other. Circenia had no doubt told the children what Keikelius' plan was so he had little to worry about. He even gave only the barest glance to his eldest daughter, leaving Chara behind as the group started to move together.
For Emilia's part, she seemed to play well and easily into his game, agreeing with him somewhat verbally about Queen Persephone. That was a good sign. It meant that her faith in her sister was not gone, and that could be used against her. Bribery and blackmail to keep her doing what the Stravos wanted. Elias had more than likely already figured that much out, she Keikelius didn't think to relay any sort of information in that vein.
Heading for the merchant stalls, Keikelius watched the movement of the world around them, listening closely to the soft lilt of Emilia's voice. Her question brought a slight frown to his features and he shook his head just slightly. "I didn't, my princess," he said calmly, "I had no idea they would bring such a show to Athenia," he added, letting his tone show is own quiet disappointment in the situation before them.
And that was all he was able to say to her before the voice of a young Athenian girl touting Queen Persephone's claim brought on a cressendo of agreement and dissent almost in one breath. Able to see where this would be heading in only moments, Lord Keikelius moved to put himself between the princess and anyone else from the front, glad that Emilia had had her guard follow behind. Twisting her delicately behind him, his dark brows knitted into something akin to irritation and anger at the rowdiness of both sides of the festival.
He only needed to blink and Elias had sent his guards toward them, taking over as protector of the princess. Keikelius took this as his chance to give Princess Emilia an unsure look before he ducked between the soldiers, disappearing further into the crown in order to separate himself from his family, more specifically his son. He needed people to see that he was doing everything he could to avoid the man, so he shouldered his way through the angering crowds and paused toward the outskirts.
The announcement of an engagement was not surprising, and Keikelius crossed his arms almost bitterly against his chest. He did not agree with the parading, but if that was what it took to calm either side of the angry crowd, then Keikelius would accept it as fact. For now.
After addressing the crowd, she turned around to spectate the two men’s reactions and boy, if looks could kill, the girl of sixteen would’ve already dropped dead. The esteemed noble, Lord Rafail of House Marikas peered down at her, a frown marking his sculpted features. Hero took one step back, visibly intimidated but still held her ground by holding his piercing gaze. He didn’t scare her-- no, not at all or so she’d tell herself the longer he glared. With her eyes focused on him she flinched when he raised an extended palm, unaware of its intention to halt the incoming guards. She was prepared to be punished in one way or another, but she hasn’t been physically scolded in years thus instilling brief fear within her as the noble stepped down from the chariot to approach her. To her relief, he reported the obvious:
"The Queen is not here."
He made a fine point about her questioning their support among other things and it made her do a double-take and even question as to why she called them out- well, until he turned his back to her to address the rest of the festival-goers. ‘Don’t turn your back to me, I’m not finished!’ She wanted to yell, her adrenaline starting to decrease the more he spoke. With each sentence, she’d like to argue back: If women were so cowardly, then why did a peasant girl have to be the one to speak up when the rest stood still? And what danger did the Queen have to flee from? Hero knew nothing of the politics taking place within the royal line, but why did this noble Lord indicate that there was danger to flee from? What did he mean? Before Hero could discern his speech any further, another statement distracted her about how the other nobles did nothing for the populace except for him and Lord Elias. Since there may have been nobles present during the festivities, she wondered how they felt hearing what he said or if they heard at all.
Ever the observant, the fisherwoman took no time to decipher his speech as a masculine voice from behind her caused her to gasp and whip around to face it. Arrogance, sheer arrogance couldn’t be the only word used to describe Lord Elias’ of House Stravos’ voice. It felt like he was demanding she remain in her place based on the tone of his voice and the use of the word ‘girl’. ‘Girl’, never ‘Madam’, ‘Missus’, nor ‘Lady’ were titles afforded to people like her. Even being called ‘girl’ almost felt like a blessing for a bastard with nothing but a hand-woven basket and a silly face-painting of a crescent orange on the side of her face. What he explained about the cornucopia being the first meal the participants ever had was true and just by the downcast of her eyes, he accomplished in making her feel guilty about provoking him.
He refused to allow her to take part in the feast, which was what made matters worse for her. “That’s fine,” Muttered the girl, shifting her sliding basket up to her arm. “I ate before your tasteless entrance anyway.” A small growling sound from her stomach said otherwise as she pressed her arm to her stomach and her hand to the rim of the basket so it didn’t look like she was clutching her stomach. Her little remark went (thankfully) unheard by the two as Lord Elias strutted to the center of the masses, with Hero grimacing at his back. The guards had enough of her expressive face as two of them marched over to remove her from the scene, but stopped when a large hand appeared over her shoulder. “C-Captain?” A formerly saddened yet fearless Hero reverted into a shaking puppy. While the well-respected noblemen of Athenia didn’t look to scare her one bit, Ismene and Ariadne’s father did. He worked with her grandfather in the White Shields and may have even been friendly and respectful with him, but that respect didn’t extend to her and it showed by her lip-biting, wandering eyes, and sandal-shifting. There was some commotion going on right behind the Thesnian noble and the slave-girl who was sitting on the arrogant regent's lap earlier but she was too nervous to be nosy about it.
As the Captain reassured Lord Rafail that she wouldn’t cause any trouble, Hero just knew she was in for it on the way back to Arcana. Maybe, just maybe she can charm her way out of it? When he looked down at her, she tilted her head up to return his disappointed look with a forced smile. “Hi?” That wasn't too endearing, but hopefully he wouldn't be too mad at her...?
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After addressing the crowd, she turned around to spectate the two men’s reactions and boy, if looks could kill, the girl of sixteen would’ve already dropped dead. The esteemed noble, Lord Rafail of House Marikas peered down at her, a frown marking his sculpted features. Hero took one step back, visibly intimidated but still held her ground by holding his piercing gaze. He didn’t scare her-- no, not at all or so she’d tell herself the longer he glared. With her eyes focused on him she flinched when he raised an extended palm, unaware of its intention to halt the incoming guards. She was prepared to be punished in one way or another, but she hasn’t been physically scolded in years thus instilling brief fear within her as the noble stepped down from the chariot to approach her. To her relief, he reported the obvious:
"The Queen is not here."
He made a fine point about her questioning their support among other things and it made her do a double-take and even question as to why she called them out- well, until he turned his back to her to address the rest of the festival-goers. ‘Don’t turn your back to me, I’m not finished!’ She wanted to yell, her adrenaline starting to decrease the more he spoke. With each sentence, she’d like to argue back: If women were so cowardly, then why did a peasant girl have to be the one to speak up when the rest stood still? And what danger did the Queen have to flee from? Hero knew nothing of the politics taking place within the royal line, but why did this noble Lord indicate that there was danger to flee from? What did he mean? Before Hero could discern his speech any further, another statement distracted her about how the other nobles did nothing for the populace except for him and Lord Elias. Since there may have been nobles present during the festivities, she wondered how they felt hearing what he said or if they heard at all.
Ever the observant, the fisherwoman took no time to decipher his speech as a masculine voice from behind her caused her to gasp and whip around to face it. Arrogance, sheer arrogance couldn’t be the only word used to describe Lord Elias’ of House Stravos’ voice. It felt like he was demanding she remain in her place based on the tone of his voice and the use of the word ‘girl’. ‘Girl’, never ‘Madam’, ‘Missus’, nor ‘Lady’ were titles afforded to people like her. Even being called ‘girl’ almost felt like a blessing for a bastard with nothing but a hand-woven basket and a silly face-painting of a crescent orange on the side of her face. What he explained about the cornucopia being the first meal the participants ever had was true and just by the downcast of her eyes, he accomplished in making her feel guilty about provoking him.
He refused to allow her to take part in the feast, which was what made matters worse for her. “That’s fine,” Muttered the girl, shifting her sliding basket up to her arm. “I ate before your tasteless entrance anyway.” A small growling sound from her stomach said otherwise as she pressed her arm to her stomach and her hand to the rim of the basket so it didn’t look like she was clutching her stomach. Her little remark went (thankfully) unheard by the two as Lord Elias strutted to the center of the masses, with Hero grimacing at his back. The guards had enough of her expressive face as two of them marched over to remove her from the scene, but stopped when a large hand appeared over her shoulder. “C-Captain?” A formerly saddened yet fearless Hero reverted into a shaking puppy. While the well-respected noblemen of Athenia didn’t look to scare her one bit, Ismene and Ariadne’s father did. He worked with her grandfather in the White Shields and may have even been friendly and respectful with him, but that respect didn’t extend to her and it showed by her lip-biting, wandering eyes, and sandal-shifting. There was some commotion going on right behind the Thesnian noble and the slave-girl who was sitting on the arrogant regent's lap earlier but she was too nervous to be nosy about it.
As the Captain reassured Lord Rafail that she wouldn’t cause any trouble, Hero just knew she was in for it on the way back to Arcana. Maybe, just maybe she can charm her way out of it? When he looked down at her, she tilted her head up to return his disappointed look with a forced smile. “Hi?” That wasn't too endearing, but hopefully he wouldn't be too mad at her...?
After addressing the crowd, she turned around to spectate the two men’s reactions and boy, if looks could kill, the girl of sixteen would’ve already dropped dead. The esteemed noble, Lord Rafail of House Marikas peered down at her, a frown marking his sculpted features. Hero took one step back, visibly intimidated but still held her ground by holding his piercing gaze. He didn’t scare her-- no, not at all or so she’d tell herself the longer he glared. With her eyes focused on him she flinched when he raised an extended palm, unaware of its intention to halt the incoming guards. She was prepared to be punished in one way or another, but she hasn’t been physically scolded in years thus instilling brief fear within her as the noble stepped down from the chariot to approach her. To her relief, he reported the obvious:
"The Queen is not here."
He made a fine point about her questioning their support among other things and it made her do a double-take and even question as to why she called them out- well, until he turned his back to her to address the rest of the festival-goers. ‘Don’t turn your back to me, I’m not finished!’ She wanted to yell, her adrenaline starting to decrease the more he spoke. With each sentence, she’d like to argue back: If women were so cowardly, then why did a peasant girl have to be the one to speak up when the rest stood still? And what danger did the Queen have to flee from? Hero knew nothing of the politics taking place within the royal line, but why did this noble Lord indicate that there was danger to flee from? What did he mean? Before Hero could discern his speech any further, another statement distracted her about how the other nobles did nothing for the populace except for him and Lord Elias. Since there may have been nobles present during the festivities, she wondered how they felt hearing what he said or if they heard at all.
Ever the observant, the fisherwoman took no time to decipher his speech as a masculine voice from behind her caused her to gasp and whip around to face it. Arrogance, sheer arrogance couldn’t be the only word used to describe Lord Elias’ of House Stravos’ voice. It felt like he was demanding she remain in her place based on the tone of his voice and the use of the word ‘girl’. ‘Girl’, never ‘Madam’, ‘Missus’, nor ‘Lady’ were titles afforded to people like her. Even being called ‘girl’ almost felt like a blessing for a bastard with nothing but a hand-woven basket and a silly face-painting of a crescent orange on the side of her face. What he explained about the cornucopia being the first meal the participants ever had was true and just by the downcast of her eyes, he accomplished in making her feel guilty about provoking him.
He refused to allow her to take part in the feast, which was what made matters worse for her. “That’s fine,” Muttered the girl, shifting her sliding basket up to her arm. “I ate before your tasteless entrance anyway.” A small growling sound from her stomach said otherwise as she pressed her arm to her stomach and her hand to the rim of the basket so it didn’t look like she was clutching her stomach. Her little remark went (thankfully) unheard by the two as Lord Elias strutted to the center of the masses, with Hero grimacing at his back. The guards had enough of her expressive face as two of them marched over to remove her from the scene, but stopped when a large hand appeared over her shoulder. “C-Captain?” A formerly saddened yet fearless Hero reverted into a shaking puppy. While the well-respected noblemen of Athenia didn’t look to scare her one bit, Ismene and Ariadne’s father did. He worked with her grandfather in the White Shields and may have even been friendly and respectful with him, but that respect didn’t extend to her and it showed by her lip-biting, wandering eyes, and sandal-shifting. There was some commotion going on right behind the Thesnian noble and the slave-girl who was sitting on the arrogant regent's lap earlier but she was too nervous to be nosy about it.
As the Captain reassured Lord Rafail that she wouldn’t cause any trouble, Hero just knew she was in for it on the way back to Arcana. Maybe, just maybe she can charm her way out of it? When he looked down at her, she tilted her head up to return his disappointed look with a forced smile. “Hi?” That wasn't too endearing, but hopefully he wouldn't be too mad at her...?
In those moments before Hector arrived in Hero's eyeline, his mind had already raced through the worst case scenarios. If she were apprehended, she would likely be taken to some sort of holding cell, likely along with the other rowdy festival-goers. The thought of someone as young as her placed in confinement with drunken revelers filled with hunger and frustration was simply not an option.
However, an even worse case scenario echoed over the crowd as Lord Elias' order to use shields to beat away the crowd. Having spend most of his life on the other side of a guard's shield, Hector knew that even a mildly suppressing blow to a girl of her frame could be devastating. Worse than that, if Hero should fall to the ground from such a blow, then she risked being trampled in the agitated crowd.
He must have been a sight, appearing at her side with an order in his voice and a heavy, firm hand on her shoulder. In that moment, he chose to ignore the frightened stammer she offered, giving his attention fully to the guards who were clearly subordinates to his own rank but definitely not of his province's order. Still, with all of the respect due to the Lord standing before him, fulfilling the order of Lord Elias, Hector meant his presence at Hero's side not to be one of inflicting fear on her but of protection.
Yes, he would most assuredly lay out his thoughts about the inappropriate time, place, and company for her words, but right now, that intimidation would be a drop in the bucket compared to the alternative that he tried to prevent.
Before the Lord could speak, there was a great roar in the crowd around them, as well as an ill-directed shove at his shoulder. Hector's heels ground into the earth to keep the ripple effect from shoving Hero, his other hand resting on her other shoulder, a grunt escaping him as he kept from being jostled, a glare being shot uselessly at the offender who himself was shoved by someone further beyond.
Then, over the crowd, Hector heard the announcement, his eyes widening under furrowed brows, caught off guard by the apparent randomness and nonchalance of such landmark announcement. There was further confusion bubbling through the crowd, and Hector took that moment to take a few steps back and pull Hero towards him as he did so.
"Come," he ordered in no more than a mutter, trying to stay as unnoticed as possible as he manufactured their evasion of their current issue, all but dragging her away from he center of the issue and back towards the edge of the crowd, like a fish swimming upstream. His solid, immovable form shouldered through with little issue as he made his way to the merchant's booths.
As they moved through, he spoke his mind, "Of all the gods' cursed ideas, Hero...do you have any idea the eyes you have on you now?"
Though his voice bore that of an infuriated father for a child that was not even his, there was true concern laced beneath it. The number of interactions he had already had with Lord Elias and the Stravos was already less than ideal, particularly with the newest connection made through Demi's reaction....
Demi.
His scolding of the Arcana youth came to a grinding halt as he immediately stood, the concerned wrinkles on his brow reaching towards his hairline as he realized Demi was no longer at the merchant booth where he had left her. Dread filled his gut as he looked up and over the crowd, his height allotting him a helpful but limited range of sight over the crowd. It was far easier to spot the golden hairs of his brood, noting Ariadne now pressed in close to the epicenter of the issue - alongside Princess Emilia, the guard he met at the bathhouses nigh on a month prior...and Lord Elias.
Where was Ismene? And Lord Adrestus? and Demi?
"Gods damn it all..." Hector cursed under his breath, the grip of one hand removing from Hero's shoulder as he ran a frustrated hand through his golden hair, the lacing strands of silver showing themselves as he rustled through it and blew out a giant, frustrated puff of air.
His eyes immediately shot to the Master Informer, praying to the gods that perhaps Ismene had been dragged back along his direction by his wife, but then felt that pit sink deeper as he saw him standing next to Princess Circenia.
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In those moments before Hector arrived in Hero's eyeline, his mind had already raced through the worst case scenarios. If she were apprehended, she would likely be taken to some sort of holding cell, likely along with the other rowdy festival-goers. The thought of someone as young as her placed in confinement with drunken revelers filled with hunger and frustration was simply not an option.
However, an even worse case scenario echoed over the crowd as Lord Elias' order to use shields to beat away the crowd. Having spend most of his life on the other side of a guard's shield, Hector knew that even a mildly suppressing blow to a girl of her frame could be devastating. Worse than that, if Hero should fall to the ground from such a blow, then she risked being trampled in the agitated crowd.
He must have been a sight, appearing at her side with an order in his voice and a heavy, firm hand on her shoulder. In that moment, he chose to ignore the frightened stammer she offered, giving his attention fully to the guards who were clearly subordinates to his own rank but definitely not of his province's order. Still, with all of the respect due to the Lord standing before him, fulfilling the order of Lord Elias, Hector meant his presence at Hero's side not to be one of inflicting fear on her but of protection.
Yes, he would most assuredly lay out his thoughts about the inappropriate time, place, and company for her words, but right now, that intimidation would be a drop in the bucket compared to the alternative that he tried to prevent.
Before the Lord could speak, there was a great roar in the crowd around them, as well as an ill-directed shove at his shoulder. Hector's heels ground into the earth to keep the ripple effect from shoving Hero, his other hand resting on her other shoulder, a grunt escaping him as he kept from being jostled, a glare being shot uselessly at the offender who himself was shoved by someone further beyond.
Then, over the crowd, Hector heard the announcement, his eyes widening under furrowed brows, caught off guard by the apparent randomness and nonchalance of such landmark announcement. There was further confusion bubbling through the crowd, and Hector took that moment to take a few steps back and pull Hero towards him as he did so.
"Come," he ordered in no more than a mutter, trying to stay as unnoticed as possible as he manufactured their evasion of their current issue, all but dragging her away from he center of the issue and back towards the edge of the crowd, like a fish swimming upstream. His solid, immovable form shouldered through with little issue as he made his way to the merchant's booths.
As they moved through, he spoke his mind, "Of all the gods' cursed ideas, Hero...do you have any idea the eyes you have on you now?"
Though his voice bore that of an infuriated father for a child that was not even his, there was true concern laced beneath it. The number of interactions he had already had with Lord Elias and the Stravos was already less than ideal, particularly with the newest connection made through Demi's reaction....
Demi.
His scolding of the Arcana youth came to a grinding halt as he immediately stood, the concerned wrinkles on his brow reaching towards his hairline as he realized Demi was no longer at the merchant booth where he had left her. Dread filled his gut as he looked up and over the crowd, his height allotting him a helpful but limited range of sight over the crowd. It was far easier to spot the golden hairs of his brood, noting Ariadne now pressed in close to the epicenter of the issue - alongside Princess Emilia, the guard he met at the bathhouses nigh on a month prior...and Lord Elias.
Where was Ismene? And Lord Adrestus? and Demi?
"Gods damn it all..." Hector cursed under his breath, the grip of one hand removing from Hero's shoulder as he ran a frustrated hand through his golden hair, the lacing strands of silver showing themselves as he rustled through it and blew out a giant, frustrated puff of air.
His eyes immediately shot to the Master Informer, praying to the gods that perhaps Ismene had been dragged back along his direction by his wife, but then felt that pit sink deeper as he saw him standing next to Princess Circenia.
In those moments before Hector arrived in Hero's eyeline, his mind had already raced through the worst case scenarios. If she were apprehended, she would likely be taken to some sort of holding cell, likely along with the other rowdy festival-goers. The thought of someone as young as her placed in confinement with drunken revelers filled with hunger and frustration was simply not an option.
However, an even worse case scenario echoed over the crowd as Lord Elias' order to use shields to beat away the crowd. Having spend most of his life on the other side of a guard's shield, Hector knew that even a mildly suppressing blow to a girl of her frame could be devastating. Worse than that, if Hero should fall to the ground from such a blow, then she risked being trampled in the agitated crowd.
He must have been a sight, appearing at her side with an order in his voice and a heavy, firm hand on her shoulder. In that moment, he chose to ignore the frightened stammer she offered, giving his attention fully to the guards who were clearly subordinates to his own rank but definitely not of his province's order. Still, with all of the respect due to the Lord standing before him, fulfilling the order of Lord Elias, Hector meant his presence at Hero's side not to be one of inflicting fear on her but of protection.
Yes, he would most assuredly lay out his thoughts about the inappropriate time, place, and company for her words, but right now, that intimidation would be a drop in the bucket compared to the alternative that he tried to prevent.
Before the Lord could speak, there was a great roar in the crowd around them, as well as an ill-directed shove at his shoulder. Hector's heels ground into the earth to keep the ripple effect from shoving Hero, his other hand resting on her other shoulder, a grunt escaping him as he kept from being jostled, a glare being shot uselessly at the offender who himself was shoved by someone further beyond.
Then, over the crowd, Hector heard the announcement, his eyes widening under furrowed brows, caught off guard by the apparent randomness and nonchalance of such landmark announcement. There was further confusion bubbling through the crowd, and Hector took that moment to take a few steps back and pull Hero towards him as he did so.
"Come," he ordered in no more than a mutter, trying to stay as unnoticed as possible as he manufactured their evasion of their current issue, all but dragging her away from he center of the issue and back towards the edge of the crowd, like a fish swimming upstream. His solid, immovable form shouldered through with little issue as he made his way to the merchant's booths.
As they moved through, he spoke his mind, "Of all the gods' cursed ideas, Hero...do you have any idea the eyes you have on you now?"
Though his voice bore that of an infuriated father for a child that was not even his, there was true concern laced beneath it. The number of interactions he had already had with Lord Elias and the Stravos was already less than ideal, particularly with the newest connection made through Demi's reaction....
Demi.
His scolding of the Arcana youth came to a grinding halt as he immediately stood, the concerned wrinkles on his brow reaching towards his hairline as he realized Demi was no longer at the merchant booth where he had left her. Dread filled his gut as he looked up and over the crowd, his height allotting him a helpful but limited range of sight over the crowd. It was far easier to spot the golden hairs of his brood, noting Ariadne now pressed in close to the epicenter of the issue - alongside Princess Emilia, the guard he met at the bathhouses nigh on a month prior...and Lord Elias.
Where was Ismene? And Lord Adrestus? and Demi?
"Gods damn it all..." Hector cursed under his breath, the grip of one hand removing from Hero's shoulder as he ran a frustrated hand through his golden hair, the lacing strands of silver showing themselves as he rustled through it and blew out a giant, frustrated puff of air.
His eyes immediately shot to the Master Informer, praying to the gods that perhaps Ismene had been dragged back along his direction by his wife, but then felt that pit sink deeper as he saw him standing next to Princess Circenia.
Lesley, for the most part, was watching more than listening. Political dickering and posturing - nobody, except possibly Emilia - was liable to be honest in public, except by chance. People were far less likely, however, to completely control their body language, and anyway, he cared more about the crowd. Restless and fed up, the altercation between the teen girl and Elias had indeed stirred up the first hint of the mob... He was already moving forward when the first fruit was thrown, reaching to push his charge behind himself, but not, unfortunately, fast enough. For all that he did his best - and for all that his best wasn't exactly shoddy - he wasn't a trained bodyguard, and for a moment, anger flashed across his face as he fought his instincts. Lesley wanted to fight.
Instead, he stayed between the girl and the crowd, turning his head just far enough to check on her out of the corner of his eye, knowing things were about to turn ugly. "Emilia, move."
He should have looked before he spoke.
Oh well. Lesley had never worried much about consequences. Or perhaps more accurately, the threat of consequences had never made him hesitate. He was about to give his opinion to Elias as well, but the man was already giving voice to his own temper.
Lovely. Always fun, being stuck in a corner with an idiot on your team.
Some of the people here hated Elias, some hated Emilia, and Elias's announcement just served to put both those groups onto the same team. The bodyguard's attention shot back to the crowd, tense, alert, evaluating the pockets of anger and confusion that swirled through the crowd, trying to guess that one point where crowd would fully coalesce into mob, like the spot in dry tinder that flared to life first. When the match thrown was verbal, rather than physical, it could land nearly anywhere... There. Probably.
"Lord Elias, get her out of here." It was, unambiguously, an order. Lesley didn't have time to soften it, and he didn't care to risk not knowing where the next projectile would come from, or what it would be. If the drunk fool hadn't made things worse... But now, violence seemed inevitable, and Lesley needed to be at the exact spot it erupted, in time to blunt the force of it. An angry accusation came from the direction he'd pegged as the closest to erupting, close enough to the front to serve as a convenient excuse, and Lesley stepped forward to close the distance, the butt of his spear suddenly up and cracking into the man's skull.
Everything snapped into place, the mob growing from that point outward, and the pressure of it rushing back in towards him, the other guards, as he knew they must, closing ranks shield-to-shield and spears lowered with equal speed, as the idiot beside his target tried to hit him back. Lesley didn't check whether it was just the palace guards, or Elias's personal goons helping out - as long as there were enough to properly protect the nobles, it didn't matter, and those two weren't dumb enough to let a gap stand, even if they were even worse in a formation than Lesley himself. The men immediately beside him didn't try to lock shields with him, and he supposed he should be flattered they'd formed up beside him rather than behind. He'd trained with them, but not enough to get past that tiny hesitation, and it made him a weak point in the formation - but Lesley didn't mind. He trusted his own speed against any civilian.
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Lesley, for the most part, was watching more than listening. Political dickering and posturing - nobody, except possibly Emilia - was liable to be honest in public, except by chance. People were far less likely, however, to completely control their body language, and anyway, he cared more about the crowd. Restless and fed up, the altercation between the teen girl and Elias had indeed stirred up the first hint of the mob... He was already moving forward when the first fruit was thrown, reaching to push his charge behind himself, but not, unfortunately, fast enough. For all that he did his best - and for all that his best wasn't exactly shoddy - he wasn't a trained bodyguard, and for a moment, anger flashed across his face as he fought his instincts. Lesley wanted to fight.
Instead, he stayed between the girl and the crowd, turning his head just far enough to check on her out of the corner of his eye, knowing things were about to turn ugly. "Emilia, move."
He should have looked before he spoke.
Oh well. Lesley had never worried much about consequences. Or perhaps more accurately, the threat of consequences had never made him hesitate. He was about to give his opinion to Elias as well, but the man was already giving voice to his own temper.
Lovely. Always fun, being stuck in a corner with an idiot on your team.
Some of the people here hated Elias, some hated Emilia, and Elias's announcement just served to put both those groups onto the same team. The bodyguard's attention shot back to the crowd, tense, alert, evaluating the pockets of anger and confusion that swirled through the crowd, trying to guess that one point where crowd would fully coalesce into mob, like the spot in dry tinder that flared to life first. When the match thrown was verbal, rather than physical, it could land nearly anywhere... There. Probably.
"Lord Elias, get her out of here." It was, unambiguously, an order. Lesley didn't have time to soften it, and he didn't care to risk not knowing where the next projectile would come from, or what it would be. If the drunk fool hadn't made things worse... But now, violence seemed inevitable, and Lesley needed to be at the exact spot it erupted, in time to blunt the force of it. An angry accusation came from the direction he'd pegged as the closest to erupting, close enough to the front to serve as a convenient excuse, and Lesley stepped forward to close the distance, the butt of his spear suddenly up and cracking into the man's skull.
Everything snapped into place, the mob growing from that point outward, and the pressure of it rushing back in towards him, the other guards, as he knew they must, closing ranks shield-to-shield and spears lowered with equal speed, as the idiot beside his target tried to hit him back. Lesley didn't check whether it was just the palace guards, or Elias's personal goons helping out - as long as there were enough to properly protect the nobles, it didn't matter, and those two weren't dumb enough to let a gap stand, even if they were even worse in a formation than Lesley himself. The men immediately beside him didn't try to lock shields with him, and he supposed he should be flattered they'd formed up beside him rather than behind. He'd trained with them, but not enough to get past that tiny hesitation, and it made him a weak point in the formation - but Lesley didn't mind. He trusted his own speed against any civilian.
Lesley, for the most part, was watching more than listening. Political dickering and posturing - nobody, except possibly Emilia - was liable to be honest in public, except by chance. People were far less likely, however, to completely control their body language, and anyway, he cared more about the crowd. Restless and fed up, the altercation between the teen girl and Elias had indeed stirred up the first hint of the mob... He was already moving forward when the first fruit was thrown, reaching to push his charge behind himself, but not, unfortunately, fast enough. For all that he did his best - and for all that his best wasn't exactly shoddy - he wasn't a trained bodyguard, and for a moment, anger flashed across his face as he fought his instincts. Lesley wanted to fight.
Instead, he stayed between the girl and the crowd, turning his head just far enough to check on her out of the corner of his eye, knowing things were about to turn ugly. "Emilia, move."
He should have looked before he spoke.
Oh well. Lesley had never worried much about consequences. Or perhaps more accurately, the threat of consequences had never made him hesitate. He was about to give his opinion to Elias as well, but the man was already giving voice to his own temper.
Lovely. Always fun, being stuck in a corner with an idiot on your team.
Some of the people here hated Elias, some hated Emilia, and Elias's announcement just served to put both those groups onto the same team. The bodyguard's attention shot back to the crowd, tense, alert, evaluating the pockets of anger and confusion that swirled through the crowd, trying to guess that one point where crowd would fully coalesce into mob, like the spot in dry tinder that flared to life first. When the match thrown was verbal, rather than physical, it could land nearly anywhere... There. Probably.
"Lord Elias, get her out of here." It was, unambiguously, an order. Lesley didn't have time to soften it, and he didn't care to risk not knowing where the next projectile would come from, or what it would be. If the drunk fool hadn't made things worse... But now, violence seemed inevitable, and Lesley needed to be at the exact spot it erupted, in time to blunt the force of it. An angry accusation came from the direction he'd pegged as the closest to erupting, close enough to the front to serve as a convenient excuse, and Lesley stepped forward to close the distance, the butt of his spear suddenly up and cracking into the man's skull.
Everything snapped into place, the mob growing from that point outward, and the pressure of it rushing back in towards him, the other guards, as he knew they must, closing ranks shield-to-shield and spears lowered with equal speed, as the idiot beside his target tried to hit him back. Lesley didn't check whether it was just the palace guards, or Elias's personal goons helping out - as long as there were enough to properly protect the nobles, it didn't matter, and those two weren't dumb enough to let a gap stand, even if they were even worse in a formation than Lesley himself. The men immediately beside him didn't try to lock shields with him, and he supposed he should be flattered they'd formed up beside him rather than behind. He'd trained with them, but not enough to get past that tiny hesitation, and it made him a weak point in the formation - but Lesley didn't mind. He trusted his own speed against any civilian.