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Kyros was down by the shores when the sails of approaching ships were spotted flying the Colchian colors.
Ky was been near the water, letting the salty sea breeze wash over him and help him clear his mind. With preparations for war taking place in the city, the streets were bustling and more crowded than usual. As someone who had been raised in deafening silence, Kyros was still not used to such cacophonous noise assaulting his sensitive ears. Always preferring clothes he can fight in, Kyros was simply dressed in plain but well made trousers and tunic, the meditative man had his bare feet buried in the warm sand - his boots laying just a within arms reach; his twin daggers resting easily at his hips on belt around his waist. He had a few hidden blades on his person as well. With a target on his back, one could never be too careful.
At the sounds of the ships' crews shouting to each other and people approaching from the newly reinforced walls, Kyros opened his eyes to regard the scene unfolding just down the beach. Fotios Leventi, with his brother following closely, was approaching the docks to greet the soldiers coming into port. And it seemed the Princess Xene was coming out of the protection of the walls as well...
Ever seeking information and advantages against the nobles and royals of Taengea, Kyros slipped his hide boots back onto his feet and made his way a bit closer to gain a better vantage where he might hear the conversations of all those present to greet the convoy.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
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Kyros was down by the shores when the sails of approaching ships were spotted flying the Colchian colors.
Ky was been near the water, letting the salty sea breeze wash over him and help him clear his mind. With preparations for war taking place in the city, the streets were bustling and more crowded than usual. As someone who had been raised in deafening silence, Kyros was still not used to such cacophonous noise assaulting his sensitive ears. Always preferring clothes he can fight in, Kyros was simply dressed in plain but well made trousers and tunic, the meditative man had his bare feet buried in the warm sand - his boots laying just a within arms reach; his twin daggers resting easily at his hips on belt around his waist. He had a few hidden blades on his person as well. With a target on his back, one could never be too careful.
At the sounds of the ships' crews shouting to each other and people approaching from the newly reinforced walls, Kyros opened his eyes to regard the scene unfolding just down the beach. Fotios Leventi, with his brother following closely, was approaching the docks to greet the soldiers coming into port. And it seemed the Princess Xene was coming out of the protection of the walls as well...
Ever seeking information and advantages against the nobles and royals of Taengea, Kyros slipped his hide boots back onto his feet and made his way a bit closer to gain a better vantage where he might hear the conversations of all those present to greet the convoy.
Kyros was down by the shores when the sails of approaching ships were spotted flying the Colchian colors.
Ky was been near the water, letting the salty sea breeze wash over him and help him clear his mind. With preparations for war taking place in the city, the streets were bustling and more crowded than usual. As someone who had been raised in deafening silence, Kyros was still not used to such cacophonous noise assaulting his sensitive ears. Always preferring clothes he can fight in, Kyros was simply dressed in plain but well made trousers and tunic, the meditative man had his bare feet buried in the warm sand - his boots laying just a within arms reach; his twin daggers resting easily at his hips on belt around his waist. He had a few hidden blades on his person as well. With a target on his back, one could never be too careful.
At the sounds of the ships' crews shouting to each other and people approaching from the newly reinforced walls, Kyros opened his eyes to regard the scene unfolding just down the beach. Fotios Leventi, with his brother following closely, was approaching the docks to greet the soldiers coming into port. And it seemed the Princess Xene was coming out of the protection of the walls as well...
Ever seeking information and advantages against the nobles and royals of Taengea, Kyros slipped his hide boots back onto his feet and made his way a bit closer to gain a better vantage where he might hear the conversations of all those present to greet the convoy.
Maleos’ mood had soured the day they had boarded the ships for war. Leto had not been there, had not even come to say goodbye to him. Clearly her decision had been made, and as far as Maleos cared, he would put all feelings for her in the past. He had a war to focus on, and it was foolish of him to ever stray from his path. His fate was that of a warrior, Colchis and her freedom was his only love. These were the things he had been telling himself to keep from dwelling on the fact that she hadn’t even cared enough for him to see him off on a journey he might not return from. Were her words at the temple all lies?
He shook his head a little, he needed to focus.
He turned his gaze to the shores of Taengea, a place that he had never been, but at least it was still a relatively safe place considering where their final destination would bring them. The intent for this stop was to resupply as far as he knew, which would be left to those sailors who manned the ships. Maleos ordered his men off the ship as soon as they landed, they would continue to train upon the beaches until the command was given to return to the boat. His unit had a very important job, and he was not going to give them a moments rest. They would be prepared for this, or their entire plan could come crashing down on them and spell the ruin of the Greek forces.
When his men were offloaded, Maleos followed, commanding them to start their training. They knew what they were to do. They had been non-stop training since before they had set sail, and while they were tired, they were improving. Maleos would have them in proper form long before they landed on the shores of Egypt.
He himself stood in the sand near his unit, careful eyes watching for any single misstep from any man, any misplaced movement that would earn that man half rations or worse. He had always been a strict Captain, and his men had been well trained before any of this, but not he had cracked down on them even harder. He needed this plan to work, his future promotions relied on it. If he was the one to suggest this plan and it spelled the downfall of their military units, his career would be over. No one would trust him to command, no one would see him as a strong soldier and tactician. He was not about to let that happen.
He took a moment to look up from his soldiers where they trained to move as one, and he let his blue-green eyes look around at those Taengeans that had come to greet their visitors. Maleos knew no one there, nor did he hold important enough of a rank for most nobles to bother greeting him. Aside from that, his foul mood had him even less social than usual.
Instead he turned back to his men.
“Again!” He shouted as they finished one training regimen, his loud and commanding voice carrying down the beach easily. He didn’t care who heard him, if they looked they would see the well oiled machine that was his unit. He hoped that the Crown Prince took notice, of his hard work, and the unity of his men as they trained.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
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Maleos’ mood had soured the day they had boarded the ships for war. Leto had not been there, had not even come to say goodbye to him. Clearly her decision had been made, and as far as Maleos cared, he would put all feelings for her in the past. He had a war to focus on, and it was foolish of him to ever stray from his path. His fate was that of a warrior, Colchis and her freedom was his only love. These were the things he had been telling himself to keep from dwelling on the fact that she hadn’t even cared enough for him to see him off on a journey he might not return from. Were her words at the temple all lies?
He shook his head a little, he needed to focus.
He turned his gaze to the shores of Taengea, a place that he had never been, but at least it was still a relatively safe place considering where their final destination would bring them. The intent for this stop was to resupply as far as he knew, which would be left to those sailors who manned the ships. Maleos ordered his men off the ship as soon as they landed, they would continue to train upon the beaches until the command was given to return to the boat. His unit had a very important job, and he was not going to give them a moments rest. They would be prepared for this, or their entire plan could come crashing down on them and spell the ruin of the Greek forces.
When his men were offloaded, Maleos followed, commanding them to start their training. They knew what they were to do. They had been non-stop training since before they had set sail, and while they were tired, they were improving. Maleos would have them in proper form long before they landed on the shores of Egypt.
He himself stood in the sand near his unit, careful eyes watching for any single misstep from any man, any misplaced movement that would earn that man half rations or worse. He had always been a strict Captain, and his men had been well trained before any of this, but not he had cracked down on them even harder. He needed this plan to work, his future promotions relied on it. If he was the one to suggest this plan and it spelled the downfall of their military units, his career would be over. No one would trust him to command, no one would see him as a strong soldier and tactician. He was not about to let that happen.
He took a moment to look up from his soldiers where they trained to move as one, and he let his blue-green eyes look around at those Taengeans that had come to greet their visitors. Maleos knew no one there, nor did he hold important enough of a rank for most nobles to bother greeting him. Aside from that, his foul mood had him even less social than usual.
Instead he turned back to his men.
“Again!” He shouted as they finished one training regimen, his loud and commanding voice carrying down the beach easily. He didn’t care who heard him, if they looked they would see the well oiled machine that was his unit. He hoped that the Crown Prince took notice, of his hard work, and the unity of his men as they trained.
Maleos’ mood had soured the day they had boarded the ships for war. Leto had not been there, had not even come to say goodbye to him. Clearly her decision had been made, and as far as Maleos cared, he would put all feelings for her in the past. He had a war to focus on, and it was foolish of him to ever stray from his path. His fate was that of a warrior, Colchis and her freedom was his only love. These were the things he had been telling himself to keep from dwelling on the fact that she hadn’t even cared enough for him to see him off on a journey he might not return from. Were her words at the temple all lies?
He shook his head a little, he needed to focus.
He turned his gaze to the shores of Taengea, a place that he had never been, but at least it was still a relatively safe place considering where their final destination would bring them. The intent for this stop was to resupply as far as he knew, which would be left to those sailors who manned the ships. Maleos ordered his men off the ship as soon as they landed, they would continue to train upon the beaches until the command was given to return to the boat. His unit had a very important job, and he was not going to give them a moments rest. They would be prepared for this, or their entire plan could come crashing down on them and spell the ruin of the Greek forces.
When his men were offloaded, Maleos followed, commanding them to start their training. They knew what they were to do. They had been non-stop training since before they had set sail, and while they were tired, they were improving. Maleos would have them in proper form long before they landed on the shores of Egypt.
He himself stood in the sand near his unit, careful eyes watching for any single misstep from any man, any misplaced movement that would earn that man half rations or worse. He had always been a strict Captain, and his men had been well trained before any of this, but not he had cracked down on them even harder. He needed this plan to work, his future promotions relied on it. If he was the one to suggest this plan and it spelled the downfall of their military units, his career would be over. No one would trust him to command, no one would see him as a strong soldier and tactician. He was not about to let that happen.
He took a moment to look up from his soldiers where they trained to move as one, and he let his blue-green eyes look around at those Taengeans that had come to greet their visitors. Maleos knew no one there, nor did he hold important enough of a rank for most nobles to bother greeting him. Aside from that, his foul mood had him even less social than usual.
Instead he turned back to his men.
“Again!” He shouted as they finished one training regimen, his loud and commanding voice carrying down the beach easily. He didn’t care who heard him, if they looked they would see the well oiled machine that was his unit. He hoped that the Crown Prince took notice, of his hard work, and the unity of his men as they trained.
Vangelis descended from his ship, noting that a few vessels that had managed to dock faster than his own crew were already at work. Some were working to confirm and transfer supplies that were blessedly already waiting for them on the beach lands. Others were utilising the time away from the boats to stretch their legs and reenergise their troops. He spotted Captain Maleos already headed for the beach, up to his knees in water and, within minutes, having his men put through the paces that he had ordered back in Colchis. Not content with the progress they had made in their homeland, clearly Maleos was determined to run the practice again at every opportunity possible. He offered the man no comment or further watch which was as much of a compliment as Vangelis gave. If he saw fault with something, he said so. Silence was encouraging.
Glancing over his shoulder and noting that Silanos was a little slower but quick enough to dogged his steps, Vangelis reached the docklands without much effort, casting the last step as a sort of jump to the wooden slats. His decorum was as lacking in princely elegance as his appearance. With hair wind-swept in every direction and his clothing holding a strong scent of salt, his recent occupation aboard a ship was obvious enough. Whilst some royals would have taken the last hour of sailing as an opportunity to dress the part, Vangelis had turned his focus more to his men and the progress of the vessels in his fleet in order to ensure a swift landing in Taengean waters. As such, he now approached the welcoming nobles with all the appearance of a wealthy sea captain.
Yet, Vangelis had tended to matters in Taengea frequently enough that it was hard to mistake his towering presence. With his monstrous height and breadth of shoulder, not to mention the defiance with which each step was committed, he was hardly a man easy to ignore or avoid and his identity as the Crown Prince of Colchis was well known. He saw no need to hide his identity.
Not even when the last time he had been on Taengean soil he had - incredibly coincidentally - disappeared when a shamed king accused of treason had been forced to flee his lands. Was such a connection to be proven, Vangelis, his kingdom and his people could still be indicted of such crimes.
Which was exactly why Vangelis did nothing different from his usual step, tone and decisions. Any change in behaviour could be read as a sign of guilt. He had already ensured before leaving Colchis that all of his officers knew not to make mention of Stephanos or Olympia to those that resided in Taengea, though he doubted it would stop the knowledge of their new residence from spreading eventually. Where they stayed and who helped them escape, however, were two different things.
As Lord Fotios of Leventi approached him on the docks, Vangelis was reminded of another potential for difficulties when his gaze landed on the man beside him. He had never directly spoken with Lord Georgios before but he had been in attendance at the dinner that Georgios had used to announce his daughter Theodora's engagement to Lord Achilleas of Mikaelidas. He knew the man by name and sight. And by a few letters that had been exchanged with limited success of building a civil relationship between future father and son in law.
Not that that mattered now.
Putting such thoughts behind him and his mind upon the task and future battles at hand, Vangelis strode forward to greet the Taengean entourage that accompanied the Leventi Lords, his address turning first to the Princess Xene as it should via rank.
"Your Highness." He offered, a hand rising to his chest and his head bowing just a little in honourable respect of another born royal like himself. "Your hospitality is well received by my men who have known only the sea for days. I assure you they'll be of no difficulty and we'll be progressing on our way as soon as our holds are full of the supplies that I negotiated with Lord Fotios via messenger." His gaze looked to the man in question who nodded in acceptance of that duty having been completed, but said nothing in lieu of the princess responding ahead of him.
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Vangelis descended from his ship, noting that a few vessels that had managed to dock faster than his own crew were already at work. Some were working to confirm and transfer supplies that were blessedly already waiting for them on the beach lands. Others were utilising the time away from the boats to stretch their legs and reenergise their troops. He spotted Captain Maleos already headed for the beach, up to his knees in water and, within minutes, having his men put through the paces that he had ordered back in Colchis. Not content with the progress they had made in their homeland, clearly Maleos was determined to run the practice again at every opportunity possible. He offered the man no comment or further watch which was as much of a compliment as Vangelis gave. If he saw fault with something, he said so. Silence was encouraging.
Glancing over his shoulder and noting that Silanos was a little slower but quick enough to dogged his steps, Vangelis reached the docklands without much effort, casting the last step as a sort of jump to the wooden slats. His decorum was as lacking in princely elegance as his appearance. With hair wind-swept in every direction and his clothing holding a strong scent of salt, his recent occupation aboard a ship was obvious enough. Whilst some royals would have taken the last hour of sailing as an opportunity to dress the part, Vangelis had turned his focus more to his men and the progress of the vessels in his fleet in order to ensure a swift landing in Taengean waters. As such, he now approached the welcoming nobles with all the appearance of a wealthy sea captain.
Yet, Vangelis had tended to matters in Taengea frequently enough that it was hard to mistake his towering presence. With his monstrous height and breadth of shoulder, not to mention the defiance with which each step was committed, he was hardly a man easy to ignore or avoid and his identity as the Crown Prince of Colchis was well known. He saw no need to hide his identity.
Not even when the last time he had been on Taengean soil he had - incredibly coincidentally - disappeared when a shamed king accused of treason had been forced to flee his lands. Was such a connection to be proven, Vangelis, his kingdom and his people could still be indicted of such crimes.
Which was exactly why Vangelis did nothing different from his usual step, tone and decisions. Any change in behaviour could be read as a sign of guilt. He had already ensured before leaving Colchis that all of his officers knew not to make mention of Stephanos or Olympia to those that resided in Taengea, though he doubted it would stop the knowledge of their new residence from spreading eventually. Where they stayed and who helped them escape, however, were two different things.
As Lord Fotios of Leventi approached him on the docks, Vangelis was reminded of another potential for difficulties when his gaze landed on the man beside him. He had never directly spoken with Lord Georgios before but he had been in attendance at the dinner that Georgios had used to announce his daughter Theodora's engagement to Lord Achilleas of Mikaelidas. He knew the man by name and sight. And by a few letters that had been exchanged with limited success of building a civil relationship between future father and son in law.
Not that that mattered now.
Putting such thoughts behind him and his mind upon the task and future battles at hand, Vangelis strode forward to greet the Taengean entourage that accompanied the Leventi Lords, his address turning first to the Princess Xene as it should via rank.
"Your Highness." He offered, a hand rising to his chest and his head bowing just a little in honourable respect of another born royal like himself. "Your hospitality is well received by my men who have known only the sea for days. I assure you they'll be of no difficulty and we'll be progressing on our way as soon as our holds are full of the supplies that I negotiated with Lord Fotios via messenger." His gaze looked to the man in question who nodded in acceptance of that duty having been completed, but said nothing in lieu of the princess responding ahead of him.
Vangelis descended from his ship, noting that a few vessels that had managed to dock faster than his own crew were already at work. Some were working to confirm and transfer supplies that were blessedly already waiting for them on the beach lands. Others were utilising the time away from the boats to stretch their legs and reenergise their troops. He spotted Captain Maleos already headed for the beach, up to his knees in water and, within minutes, having his men put through the paces that he had ordered back in Colchis. Not content with the progress they had made in their homeland, clearly Maleos was determined to run the practice again at every opportunity possible. He offered the man no comment or further watch which was as much of a compliment as Vangelis gave. If he saw fault with something, he said so. Silence was encouraging.
Glancing over his shoulder and noting that Silanos was a little slower but quick enough to dogged his steps, Vangelis reached the docklands without much effort, casting the last step as a sort of jump to the wooden slats. His decorum was as lacking in princely elegance as his appearance. With hair wind-swept in every direction and his clothing holding a strong scent of salt, his recent occupation aboard a ship was obvious enough. Whilst some royals would have taken the last hour of sailing as an opportunity to dress the part, Vangelis had turned his focus more to his men and the progress of the vessels in his fleet in order to ensure a swift landing in Taengean waters. As such, he now approached the welcoming nobles with all the appearance of a wealthy sea captain.
Yet, Vangelis had tended to matters in Taengea frequently enough that it was hard to mistake his towering presence. With his monstrous height and breadth of shoulder, not to mention the defiance with which each step was committed, he was hardly a man easy to ignore or avoid and his identity as the Crown Prince of Colchis was well known. He saw no need to hide his identity.
Not even when the last time he had been on Taengean soil he had - incredibly coincidentally - disappeared when a shamed king accused of treason had been forced to flee his lands. Was such a connection to be proven, Vangelis, his kingdom and his people could still be indicted of such crimes.
Which was exactly why Vangelis did nothing different from his usual step, tone and decisions. Any change in behaviour could be read as a sign of guilt. He had already ensured before leaving Colchis that all of his officers knew not to make mention of Stephanos or Olympia to those that resided in Taengea, though he doubted it would stop the knowledge of their new residence from spreading eventually. Where they stayed and who helped them escape, however, were two different things.
As Lord Fotios of Leventi approached him on the docks, Vangelis was reminded of another potential for difficulties when his gaze landed on the man beside him. He had never directly spoken with Lord Georgios before but he had been in attendance at the dinner that Georgios had used to announce his daughter Theodora's engagement to Lord Achilleas of Mikaelidas. He knew the man by name and sight. And by a few letters that had been exchanged with limited success of building a civil relationship between future father and son in law.
Not that that mattered now.
Putting such thoughts behind him and his mind upon the task and future battles at hand, Vangelis strode forward to greet the Taengean entourage that accompanied the Leventi Lords, his address turning first to the Princess Xene as it should via rank.
"Your Highness." He offered, a hand rising to his chest and his head bowing just a little in honourable respect of another born royal like himself. "Your hospitality is well received by my men who have known only the sea for days. I assure you they'll be of no difficulty and we'll be progressing on our way as soon as our holds are full of the supplies that I negotiated with Lord Fotios via messenger." His gaze looked to the man in question who nodded in acceptance of that duty having been completed, but said nothing in lieu of the princess responding ahead of him.
Silanos had been distracted, taking in the defences that had changed the picture of Vasiliadion that he held in his memory. It made it all somehow more real, this notion of war and he just stared for a little while, until he realised with a jolt that the Prince was already disembarking the ship so he was forced to scramble after him. “Guess we’re not hanging about then” he muttered mostly to himself as he made a rather ungracious descent down the gangway in an attempt to catch up. Fuck’s sake. And of course Maleos was already on the sands putting the poor idiots who served under him through their paces. It was all uncomfortably familiar for Sil, who shot the Captain a dark look as he passed him by, still trying to catch up with the determined long stride of the Crown Prince.
By the time he reached the man’s side - or rather, slightly off to the side and behind - Vangelis was already making greetings to the gathered Taengean nobility. Silanos tried to make his arrival discreet, standing well back as he looked over the welcome party as it were. He recognised the Princess, but couldn’t recall if it were Gianna or..Xene was it? The older one he thought, as his gaze moved onto to the Lords who accompanied the Taengean royal. Sil was only mildly discomfited to recognise the Head of House Leventi. Mainly on Vangelis’ behalf of course, because ooooh, that had to be a little bit fucking awkward didnt it, but maybe a little because he was pretty sure he’d messed around with at least one of the man’s daughters. Nieces. Whatever.
It only made his decision to just loiter unobtrusively seem wiser, and Silanos cast a glance down the beach to see if the Colchian King had disembraked yet, and would soon be joining this little reception. Prince Vangelis had made it clear that their time in Taengea was to be as efficacious as possible, so Silanos was hardly anticipating there to be much small talk. Already the Colchian soldiers had been tasked with replenishing fresh water supplies, and there would be food rations to be loaded, and then they would be on their way. It was a shared urgency, given it was the Taengean King they rushed to aid.
For Sil, he was just glad to have a chance to stretch his legs and get off the gods damned boat. Bearing witness to the man before him navigating this little diplomatic nightmare was just an added bonus. He hoped it wasn’t going to sour the prince’s mood. Silanos almost felt sorry for him, and then he remembered why he was even standing where he was and decided that he’d measure it to only a mild amusement at the man’s expense instead. Was this to be one of Vangelis’ great moments that he wanted him to record for posterity?
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Silanos had been distracted, taking in the defences that had changed the picture of Vasiliadion that he held in his memory. It made it all somehow more real, this notion of war and he just stared for a little while, until he realised with a jolt that the Prince was already disembarking the ship so he was forced to scramble after him. “Guess we’re not hanging about then” he muttered mostly to himself as he made a rather ungracious descent down the gangway in an attempt to catch up. Fuck’s sake. And of course Maleos was already on the sands putting the poor idiots who served under him through their paces. It was all uncomfortably familiar for Sil, who shot the Captain a dark look as he passed him by, still trying to catch up with the determined long stride of the Crown Prince.
By the time he reached the man’s side - or rather, slightly off to the side and behind - Vangelis was already making greetings to the gathered Taengean nobility. Silanos tried to make his arrival discreet, standing well back as he looked over the welcome party as it were. He recognised the Princess, but couldn’t recall if it were Gianna or..Xene was it? The older one he thought, as his gaze moved onto to the Lords who accompanied the Taengean royal. Sil was only mildly discomfited to recognise the Head of House Leventi. Mainly on Vangelis’ behalf of course, because ooooh, that had to be a little bit fucking awkward didnt it, but maybe a little because he was pretty sure he’d messed around with at least one of the man’s daughters. Nieces. Whatever.
It only made his decision to just loiter unobtrusively seem wiser, and Silanos cast a glance down the beach to see if the Colchian King had disembraked yet, and would soon be joining this little reception. Prince Vangelis had made it clear that their time in Taengea was to be as efficacious as possible, so Silanos was hardly anticipating there to be much small talk. Already the Colchian soldiers had been tasked with replenishing fresh water supplies, and there would be food rations to be loaded, and then they would be on their way. It was a shared urgency, given it was the Taengean King they rushed to aid.
For Sil, he was just glad to have a chance to stretch his legs and get off the gods damned boat. Bearing witness to the man before him navigating this little diplomatic nightmare was just an added bonus. He hoped it wasn’t going to sour the prince’s mood. Silanos almost felt sorry for him, and then he remembered why he was even standing where he was and decided that he’d measure it to only a mild amusement at the man’s expense instead. Was this to be one of Vangelis’ great moments that he wanted him to record for posterity?
Silanos had been distracted, taking in the defences that had changed the picture of Vasiliadion that he held in his memory. It made it all somehow more real, this notion of war and he just stared for a little while, until he realised with a jolt that the Prince was already disembarking the ship so he was forced to scramble after him. “Guess we’re not hanging about then” he muttered mostly to himself as he made a rather ungracious descent down the gangway in an attempt to catch up. Fuck’s sake. And of course Maleos was already on the sands putting the poor idiots who served under him through their paces. It was all uncomfortably familiar for Sil, who shot the Captain a dark look as he passed him by, still trying to catch up with the determined long stride of the Crown Prince.
By the time he reached the man’s side - or rather, slightly off to the side and behind - Vangelis was already making greetings to the gathered Taengean nobility. Silanos tried to make his arrival discreet, standing well back as he looked over the welcome party as it were. He recognised the Princess, but couldn’t recall if it were Gianna or..Xene was it? The older one he thought, as his gaze moved onto to the Lords who accompanied the Taengean royal. Sil was only mildly discomfited to recognise the Head of House Leventi. Mainly on Vangelis’ behalf of course, because ooooh, that had to be a little bit fucking awkward didnt it, but maybe a little because he was pretty sure he’d messed around with at least one of the man’s daughters. Nieces. Whatever.
It only made his decision to just loiter unobtrusively seem wiser, and Silanos cast a glance down the beach to see if the Colchian King had disembraked yet, and would soon be joining this little reception. Prince Vangelis had made it clear that their time in Taengea was to be as efficacious as possible, so Silanos was hardly anticipating there to be much small talk. Already the Colchian soldiers had been tasked with replenishing fresh water supplies, and there would be food rations to be loaded, and then they would be on their way. It was a shared urgency, given it was the Taengean King they rushed to aid.
For Sil, he was just glad to have a chance to stretch his legs and get off the gods damned boat. Bearing witness to the man before him navigating this little diplomatic nightmare was just an added bonus. He hoped it wasn’t going to sour the prince’s mood. Silanos almost felt sorry for him, and then he remembered why he was even standing where he was and decided that he’d measure it to only a mild amusement at the man’s expense instead. Was this to be one of Vangelis’ great moments that he wanted him to record for posterity?
With Taengea’s resources focused on the war effort and the country eagerly—albeit anxiously—awaiting word on its King’s wellbeing in the month since her cousin departed for Egypt, Gianna had settled into a somewhat comfortable routine. The princess had never been a woman of overwhelming responsibility, but the few duties she had been tasked with all but disappeared as of late. And so she would rise with the sun to leisurely brush the sleep out of her golden curls while her handmaiden prepared a fragrant bath. She would soak until the water ran cold or she could no longer stand the sensation of the rugose skin of her fingertips.
It was during her ritual platter of olives and bread fresh from the kitchen served in the palace gardens when her sister’s man appeared. Having proven himself loyal time and time again, Heron had become a quiet comfort for both princesses over the past several months. It was seeing the man without her sister that caused Gianna to abandon her mid-morning meal. As she drew nearer, she could hear the message he relayed to the palace guards. Colchian ships had been spotted, the Queen and Prince Regent would be expected to meet them at the docks.
While her presence was certainly not required, the princess was undeniably curious about their visitors. After waving off the servants who had been attending to her, she padded after Heron, catching his attention as he reached the stables. “Heron, I wish to greet the Colchians as well. Will you accompany me to the docks?” Gianna inquired, pausing only when she reached her horse. The man simply offered her a silent nod of confirmation as he waited for her to take the lead.
The ride to the shore was drawn out if only by her company. A man of few words, Gianna found Heron to be a poor traveling companion. She had hoped to fill the time with conversation, but resigned herself to her thoughts along the way. It did not take long for her mind to wander to her brother and what news the Colchians might carry of Stephanos and Olympia. She did not want to get her hopes up, but she would endeavor to find out something—anything—just to feel closer to them.
Their arrival at the wall went largely unnoticed due to the excitement of the Colchian fleet. Heron gestured her through the gate and she took in the vast expanse of ocean just a stretch of sand away. It seemed less daunting with a dozen ships now docked on Taengea’s shores, with soldiers ran drills on the beach as servants hurried supplies to the vessels. The scene before her was certainly busy and it took her a moment to identify her sister amongst the bodies as Alcaeus lazily swayed forward. Gianna urged the stallion into an energetic trot as they neared Xene and the noble Lords.
She made quick work of dismounting and passing the reins to Heron before adjusting the silver circlet that sat atop her head as she joined her sister. She was quiet in her approach as she was apt to be, gathering the skirts of her soft pink chiton so the wind could not catch the light material. She recognized Prince Vangelis from his last visit to Taengea. Gianna offered him a soft smile as she inclined her head and quietly greeted him before turning her attention back to her sister and discreetly took hold of Xene’s elbow.
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With Taengea’s resources focused on the war effort and the country eagerly—albeit anxiously—awaiting word on its King’s wellbeing in the month since her cousin departed for Egypt, Gianna had settled into a somewhat comfortable routine. The princess had never been a woman of overwhelming responsibility, but the few duties she had been tasked with all but disappeared as of late. And so she would rise with the sun to leisurely brush the sleep out of her golden curls while her handmaiden prepared a fragrant bath. She would soak until the water ran cold or she could no longer stand the sensation of the rugose skin of her fingertips.
It was during her ritual platter of olives and bread fresh from the kitchen served in the palace gardens when her sister’s man appeared. Having proven himself loyal time and time again, Heron had become a quiet comfort for both princesses over the past several months. It was seeing the man without her sister that caused Gianna to abandon her mid-morning meal. As she drew nearer, she could hear the message he relayed to the palace guards. Colchian ships had been spotted, the Queen and Prince Regent would be expected to meet them at the docks.
While her presence was certainly not required, the princess was undeniably curious about their visitors. After waving off the servants who had been attending to her, she padded after Heron, catching his attention as he reached the stables. “Heron, I wish to greet the Colchians as well. Will you accompany me to the docks?” Gianna inquired, pausing only when she reached her horse. The man simply offered her a silent nod of confirmation as he waited for her to take the lead.
The ride to the shore was drawn out if only by her company. A man of few words, Gianna found Heron to be a poor traveling companion. She had hoped to fill the time with conversation, but resigned herself to her thoughts along the way. It did not take long for her mind to wander to her brother and what news the Colchians might carry of Stephanos and Olympia. She did not want to get her hopes up, but she would endeavor to find out something—anything—just to feel closer to them.
Their arrival at the wall went largely unnoticed due to the excitement of the Colchian fleet. Heron gestured her through the gate and she took in the vast expanse of ocean just a stretch of sand away. It seemed less daunting with a dozen ships now docked on Taengea’s shores, with soldiers ran drills on the beach as servants hurried supplies to the vessels. The scene before her was certainly busy and it took her a moment to identify her sister amongst the bodies as Alcaeus lazily swayed forward. Gianna urged the stallion into an energetic trot as they neared Xene and the noble Lords.
She made quick work of dismounting and passing the reins to Heron before adjusting the silver circlet that sat atop her head as she joined her sister. She was quiet in her approach as she was apt to be, gathering the skirts of her soft pink chiton so the wind could not catch the light material. She recognized Prince Vangelis from his last visit to Taengea. Gianna offered him a soft smile as she inclined her head and quietly greeted him before turning her attention back to her sister and discreetly took hold of Xene’s elbow.
With Taengea’s resources focused on the war effort and the country eagerly—albeit anxiously—awaiting word on its King’s wellbeing in the month since her cousin departed for Egypt, Gianna had settled into a somewhat comfortable routine. The princess had never been a woman of overwhelming responsibility, but the few duties she had been tasked with all but disappeared as of late. And so she would rise with the sun to leisurely brush the sleep out of her golden curls while her handmaiden prepared a fragrant bath. She would soak until the water ran cold or she could no longer stand the sensation of the rugose skin of her fingertips.
It was during her ritual platter of olives and bread fresh from the kitchen served in the palace gardens when her sister’s man appeared. Having proven himself loyal time and time again, Heron had become a quiet comfort for both princesses over the past several months. It was seeing the man without her sister that caused Gianna to abandon her mid-morning meal. As she drew nearer, she could hear the message he relayed to the palace guards. Colchian ships had been spotted, the Queen and Prince Regent would be expected to meet them at the docks.
While her presence was certainly not required, the princess was undeniably curious about their visitors. After waving off the servants who had been attending to her, she padded after Heron, catching his attention as he reached the stables. “Heron, I wish to greet the Colchians as well. Will you accompany me to the docks?” Gianna inquired, pausing only when she reached her horse. The man simply offered her a silent nod of confirmation as he waited for her to take the lead.
The ride to the shore was drawn out if only by her company. A man of few words, Gianna found Heron to be a poor traveling companion. She had hoped to fill the time with conversation, but resigned herself to her thoughts along the way. It did not take long for her mind to wander to her brother and what news the Colchians might carry of Stephanos and Olympia. She did not want to get her hopes up, but she would endeavor to find out something—anything—just to feel closer to them.
Their arrival at the wall went largely unnoticed due to the excitement of the Colchian fleet. Heron gestured her through the gate and she took in the vast expanse of ocean just a stretch of sand away. It seemed less daunting with a dozen ships now docked on Taengea’s shores, with soldiers ran drills on the beach as servants hurried supplies to the vessels. The scene before her was certainly busy and it took her a moment to identify her sister amongst the bodies as Alcaeus lazily swayed forward. Gianna urged the stallion into an energetic trot as they neared Xene and the noble Lords.
She made quick work of dismounting and passing the reins to Heron before adjusting the silver circlet that sat atop her head as she joined her sister. She was quiet in her approach as she was apt to be, gathering the skirts of her soft pink chiton so the wind could not catch the light material. She recognized Prince Vangelis from his last visit to Taengea. Gianna offered him a soft smile as she inclined her head and quietly greeted him before turning her attention back to her sister and discreetly took hold of Xene’s elbow.
Xene would not deign to show her irritation with the male nobility of Taengea and their inability to catch silent nuances from a lady. Whether that was a purposeful act or entirely accidental, Xene didn't really care. The fact of the matter was that even her lover had struck a sharply irritable chord with the princess. If only for the barest of seconds before she simply let it go. Lord Fotios had shoved off a lot of the blame onto Lord Condos, and that seemed to serve the princess well. She found herself contented with that outcome, not needing to really dwell longer on the moment of contention.
Xene only shook her head at Cilissa when Lord Fotios suggested an awning for the ride. "Its quite alright," Xene saids lowly, "I think I'll enjoy the sun," she murmured, giving Cilissa a very slight nod that everything was actually alright. She had not done anything wrong, nor was she in trouble. Cilissa was still learning and putting too much on her, especially for unnecessary reasons was not something that Xene was keen on thus far. She ignored any glances from Fotios, not wanting to really discuss, silently or verbally her reasonings. He would likely ask later on, but now was not the time.
Xene allowed her lady to ride with her while Heron rode off to attend to Princess Gianna, and the ride down to the shore was a little too short. Any other moment, the princess would have been keen for visitors from other Kingdoms. But not every visit was born out of whim and exploration as Xene had long imagined. The Colchians were here for the express purpose of resupplying for their last leg of the journey. To Egypt and to war.
She dismounted without help, helping Cilissa off of her horse and motioning her to stand off to the side of the dock so that she was not directly in the retinue of nobility and royalty that would be greeted by the Colchian entourage. She did not feel like a princess in this moment. Her gown was streaked in tar, as well as her hands. There would be no saving it, but it was all too clear that the princess had been spending her last hours helping with the preparations of the city. She opted to give Prince Vangelis an apologetic smile as he approached them, wishing she could say sorry for her unkempt appearance.
But she did not. Any man worth their salt, prince or not, would be able to see for what purpose she was out of sorts. Xene mirrored his gesture of respect, her fist resting momentarily against her chest and her head bowing slightly in order to greet him. His words did not surprise her, and she was sure that what the Prince spoke was the absolute truth. "Taengea welcomes you and yours, Prince Vangelis," Princess Xene said confidently, "While I am sure that my peers, mentors, and fellow nobles have already seen to your every need, please do not hesitate to ask for anything else that you may find lacking," she said slowly, meeting Vangelis' gaze rather firmly, her blue eyes all fire and attentiveness.
She did not let her gaze drift in the way that she wished. The princess wished to search for the face of her brother, wondering if her quiet assumptions that Stephanos would have gone on to Colchis were true. Would he have gone to war with the rest of the Colchians? It seemed very unlike her own brother to reject the idea of going into battle. He was a soldier at heart and she doubted even a price on his head would keep him from Egyptian shores.
Reaching very silently to place her hand overtop of her sister's hand on her arm, Xene did not break her gaze from their guests, opting to greet her beloved sister in silence rather than vocalizing as she had done many times before.
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Xene would not deign to show her irritation with the male nobility of Taengea and their inability to catch silent nuances from a lady. Whether that was a purposeful act or entirely accidental, Xene didn't really care. The fact of the matter was that even her lover had struck a sharply irritable chord with the princess. If only for the barest of seconds before she simply let it go. Lord Fotios had shoved off a lot of the blame onto Lord Condos, and that seemed to serve the princess well. She found herself contented with that outcome, not needing to really dwell longer on the moment of contention.
Xene only shook her head at Cilissa when Lord Fotios suggested an awning for the ride. "Its quite alright," Xene saids lowly, "I think I'll enjoy the sun," she murmured, giving Cilissa a very slight nod that everything was actually alright. She had not done anything wrong, nor was she in trouble. Cilissa was still learning and putting too much on her, especially for unnecessary reasons was not something that Xene was keen on thus far. She ignored any glances from Fotios, not wanting to really discuss, silently or verbally her reasonings. He would likely ask later on, but now was not the time.
Xene allowed her lady to ride with her while Heron rode off to attend to Princess Gianna, and the ride down to the shore was a little too short. Any other moment, the princess would have been keen for visitors from other Kingdoms. But not every visit was born out of whim and exploration as Xene had long imagined. The Colchians were here for the express purpose of resupplying for their last leg of the journey. To Egypt and to war.
She dismounted without help, helping Cilissa off of her horse and motioning her to stand off to the side of the dock so that she was not directly in the retinue of nobility and royalty that would be greeted by the Colchian entourage. She did not feel like a princess in this moment. Her gown was streaked in tar, as well as her hands. There would be no saving it, but it was all too clear that the princess had been spending her last hours helping with the preparations of the city. She opted to give Prince Vangelis an apologetic smile as he approached them, wishing she could say sorry for her unkempt appearance.
But she did not. Any man worth their salt, prince or not, would be able to see for what purpose she was out of sorts. Xene mirrored his gesture of respect, her fist resting momentarily against her chest and her head bowing slightly in order to greet him. His words did not surprise her, and she was sure that what the Prince spoke was the absolute truth. "Taengea welcomes you and yours, Prince Vangelis," Princess Xene said confidently, "While I am sure that my peers, mentors, and fellow nobles have already seen to your every need, please do not hesitate to ask for anything else that you may find lacking," she said slowly, meeting Vangelis' gaze rather firmly, her blue eyes all fire and attentiveness.
She did not let her gaze drift in the way that she wished. The princess wished to search for the face of her brother, wondering if her quiet assumptions that Stephanos would have gone on to Colchis were true. Would he have gone to war with the rest of the Colchians? It seemed very unlike her own brother to reject the idea of going into battle. He was a soldier at heart and she doubted even a price on his head would keep him from Egyptian shores.
Reaching very silently to place her hand overtop of her sister's hand on her arm, Xene did not break her gaze from their guests, opting to greet her beloved sister in silence rather than vocalizing as she had done many times before.
Xene would not deign to show her irritation with the male nobility of Taengea and their inability to catch silent nuances from a lady. Whether that was a purposeful act or entirely accidental, Xene didn't really care. The fact of the matter was that even her lover had struck a sharply irritable chord with the princess. If only for the barest of seconds before she simply let it go. Lord Fotios had shoved off a lot of the blame onto Lord Condos, and that seemed to serve the princess well. She found herself contented with that outcome, not needing to really dwell longer on the moment of contention.
Xene only shook her head at Cilissa when Lord Fotios suggested an awning for the ride. "Its quite alright," Xene saids lowly, "I think I'll enjoy the sun," she murmured, giving Cilissa a very slight nod that everything was actually alright. She had not done anything wrong, nor was she in trouble. Cilissa was still learning and putting too much on her, especially for unnecessary reasons was not something that Xene was keen on thus far. She ignored any glances from Fotios, not wanting to really discuss, silently or verbally her reasonings. He would likely ask later on, but now was not the time.
Xene allowed her lady to ride with her while Heron rode off to attend to Princess Gianna, and the ride down to the shore was a little too short. Any other moment, the princess would have been keen for visitors from other Kingdoms. But not every visit was born out of whim and exploration as Xene had long imagined. The Colchians were here for the express purpose of resupplying for their last leg of the journey. To Egypt and to war.
She dismounted without help, helping Cilissa off of her horse and motioning her to stand off to the side of the dock so that she was not directly in the retinue of nobility and royalty that would be greeted by the Colchian entourage. She did not feel like a princess in this moment. Her gown was streaked in tar, as well as her hands. There would be no saving it, but it was all too clear that the princess had been spending her last hours helping with the preparations of the city. She opted to give Prince Vangelis an apologetic smile as he approached them, wishing she could say sorry for her unkempt appearance.
But she did not. Any man worth their salt, prince or not, would be able to see for what purpose she was out of sorts. Xene mirrored his gesture of respect, her fist resting momentarily against her chest and her head bowing slightly in order to greet him. His words did not surprise her, and she was sure that what the Prince spoke was the absolute truth. "Taengea welcomes you and yours, Prince Vangelis," Princess Xene said confidently, "While I am sure that my peers, mentors, and fellow nobles have already seen to your every need, please do not hesitate to ask for anything else that you may find lacking," she said slowly, meeting Vangelis' gaze rather firmly, her blue eyes all fire and attentiveness.
She did not let her gaze drift in the way that she wished. The princess wished to search for the face of her brother, wondering if her quiet assumptions that Stephanos would have gone on to Colchis were true. Would he have gone to war with the rest of the Colchians? It seemed very unlike her own brother to reject the idea of going into battle. He was a soldier at heart and she doubted even a price on his head would keep him from Egyptian shores.
Reaching very silently to place her hand overtop of her sister's hand on her arm, Xene did not break her gaze from their guests, opting to greet her beloved sister in silence rather than vocalizing as she had done many times before.
Her hazel eyes glanced at the ground while she waited for those more important than herself discuss what they needed to... she had always been good at the shadows and merely listening when it was appropriate. Almost as if she were made to be second fiddle for life. It was comfortable. Fingers had stopped the constant, nervous fidgeting with the folds of her brand new dresses days ago and now she was working on the next goal of a tad more confidence. Xene had high expectations and Cilissa intended on meeting them... no matter how impossible it sometimes seemed.
A polite smile curved on her lips as she gave a nod to Fotios when he gave the suggestion of an awning. "I'd be delighted to, Lord Fotios." She took turns being sure to pay respects to those that were still around in their circle and most certainly a bow to her own lady as she broke away from the group to go fetch what would be necessary for the beaches and docks when the Colchian ships pulled in. Though she paused in her place as she heard the blonde explain it was not necessary. Cili had a moment of apprehension wondering where her allegiance should lie... clearly with her lady. A nod was given as she pivoted back round to accompany Xene as she wished.
It was nice to have so many that she was at least mildly acquainted with when the crowd was growing so quickly. She had never been interesting to be around so many people. Yet another task on her list of things to acclimate herself to in her new role she so desperately wanted to be perfect at. It was more a test of tolerance. Each time it was easier and more comfortable to meet the needs of Xene.
Always just a step behind, once down to the ground, Cilissa stood just out of the way. She didn't dare make eye contact with any of those that were passing and her attention barely made it up to Vangelis shoulders before realizing how imposing a figure he was and remained blissfully hidden behind the much more important Gianna and Xene. With all of those men that passed down the dock to retrieve replacement goods and looking from the edge of the ship - she would have rather been invisible. At some point, she knew that she would one day be able to handle the interests of others, for now she was pleased to just be an accessory to help Xene be center.
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Her hazel eyes glanced at the ground while she waited for those more important than herself discuss what they needed to... she had always been good at the shadows and merely listening when it was appropriate. Almost as if she were made to be second fiddle for life. It was comfortable. Fingers had stopped the constant, nervous fidgeting with the folds of her brand new dresses days ago and now she was working on the next goal of a tad more confidence. Xene had high expectations and Cilissa intended on meeting them... no matter how impossible it sometimes seemed.
A polite smile curved on her lips as she gave a nod to Fotios when he gave the suggestion of an awning. "I'd be delighted to, Lord Fotios." She took turns being sure to pay respects to those that were still around in their circle and most certainly a bow to her own lady as she broke away from the group to go fetch what would be necessary for the beaches and docks when the Colchian ships pulled in. Though she paused in her place as she heard the blonde explain it was not necessary. Cili had a moment of apprehension wondering where her allegiance should lie... clearly with her lady. A nod was given as she pivoted back round to accompany Xene as she wished.
It was nice to have so many that she was at least mildly acquainted with when the crowd was growing so quickly. She had never been interesting to be around so many people. Yet another task on her list of things to acclimate herself to in her new role she so desperately wanted to be perfect at. It was more a test of tolerance. Each time it was easier and more comfortable to meet the needs of Xene.
Always just a step behind, once down to the ground, Cilissa stood just out of the way. She didn't dare make eye contact with any of those that were passing and her attention barely made it up to Vangelis shoulders before realizing how imposing a figure he was and remained blissfully hidden behind the much more important Gianna and Xene. With all of those men that passed down the dock to retrieve replacement goods and looking from the edge of the ship - she would have rather been invisible. At some point, she knew that she would one day be able to handle the interests of others, for now she was pleased to just be an accessory to help Xene be center.
Her hazel eyes glanced at the ground while she waited for those more important than herself discuss what they needed to... she had always been good at the shadows and merely listening when it was appropriate. Almost as if she were made to be second fiddle for life. It was comfortable. Fingers had stopped the constant, nervous fidgeting with the folds of her brand new dresses days ago and now she was working on the next goal of a tad more confidence. Xene had high expectations and Cilissa intended on meeting them... no matter how impossible it sometimes seemed.
A polite smile curved on her lips as she gave a nod to Fotios when he gave the suggestion of an awning. "I'd be delighted to, Lord Fotios." She took turns being sure to pay respects to those that were still around in their circle and most certainly a bow to her own lady as she broke away from the group to go fetch what would be necessary for the beaches and docks when the Colchian ships pulled in. Though she paused in her place as she heard the blonde explain it was not necessary. Cili had a moment of apprehension wondering where her allegiance should lie... clearly with her lady. A nod was given as she pivoted back round to accompany Xene as she wished.
It was nice to have so many that she was at least mildly acquainted with when the crowd was growing so quickly. She had never been interesting to be around so many people. Yet another task on her list of things to acclimate herself to in her new role she so desperately wanted to be perfect at. It was more a test of tolerance. Each time it was easier and more comfortable to meet the needs of Xene.
Always just a step behind, once down to the ground, Cilissa stood just out of the way. She didn't dare make eye contact with any of those that were passing and her attention barely made it up to Vangelis shoulders before realizing how imposing a figure he was and remained blissfully hidden behind the much more important Gianna and Xene. With all of those men that passed down the dock to retrieve replacement goods and looking from the edge of the ship - she would have rather been invisible. At some point, she knew that she would one day be able to handle the interests of others, for now she was pleased to just be an accessory to help Xene be center.
Kyros leaned against the trunk of one of the few trees out on the beach. His pose was casual and careless, but he was confident that he could draw a blade and take out anyone that posed a threat to him. Not that he really expected it here. These people had much more on their minds than the likes of him. But still, he was ever alert. He watched the Ladies join the men near the docks. He wanted to get closer to the conversation - for the sounds of the soldiers running their drills nearby drowned out many words. But he dared not draw too much attention to himself. So instead he watched the body language. One could read a lot from how someone carried themselves. Take the nobles from Colchis for instance. The one leading the approach to the Taengean representatives, Kyros could tell that this man was used to getting his way, to others wanting his approval. Most likely a royal. But the way he passed by his troops with barely a glance, told Kyros that this noble was skilled at withholding his praises. The other, the one trailing just behind the first. While he carried himself like a nobleman, it was clear he differed to the other's leadership. Perhaps the first was the crown prince of Colchis himself.
Since he couldn't hear everything, Kyros let his gaze shift to the contingent of soldiers practicing in the sands, particularly the commander shouting for them to perform the routine again and again. This man too, was used to being in control. Kyros smirked to himself as he watched. Even from here he could see holes in the men's defenses as they maneuvered. But that was none of his affair. He was not a soldier. He had no allegiances in this war. Not that anyone would listen to him if he did.
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Kyros leaned against the trunk of one of the few trees out on the beach. His pose was casual and careless, but he was confident that he could draw a blade and take out anyone that posed a threat to him. Not that he really expected it here. These people had much more on their minds than the likes of him. But still, he was ever alert. He watched the Ladies join the men near the docks. He wanted to get closer to the conversation - for the sounds of the soldiers running their drills nearby drowned out many words. But he dared not draw too much attention to himself. So instead he watched the body language. One could read a lot from how someone carried themselves. Take the nobles from Colchis for instance. The one leading the approach to the Taengean representatives, Kyros could tell that this man was used to getting his way, to others wanting his approval. Most likely a royal. But the way he passed by his troops with barely a glance, told Kyros that this noble was skilled at withholding his praises. The other, the one trailing just behind the first. While he carried himself like a nobleman, it was clear he differed to the other's leadership. Perhaps the first was the crown prince of Colchis himself.
Since he couldn't hear everything, Kyros let his gaze shift to the contingent of soldiers practicing in the sands, particularly the commander shouting for them to perform the routine again and again. This man too, was used to being in control. Kyros smirked to himself as he watched. Even from here he could see holes in the men's defenses as they maneuvered. But that was none of his affair. He was not a soldier. He had no allegiances in this war. Not that anyone would listen to him if he did.
Kyros leaned against the trunk of one of the few trees out on the beach. His pose was casual and careless, but he was confident that he could draw a blade and take out anyone that posed a threat to him. Not that he really expected it here. These people had much more on their minds than the likes of him. But still, he was ever alert. He watched the Ladies join the men near the docks. He wanted to get closer to the conversation - for the sounds of the soldiers running their drills nearby drowned out many words. But he dared not draw too much attention to himself. So instead he watched the body language. One could read a lot from how someone carried themselves. Take the nobles from Colchis for instance. The one leading the approach to the Taengean representatives, Kyros could tell that this man was used to getting his way, to others wanting his approval. Most likely a royal. But the way he passed by his troops with barely a glance, told Kyros that this noble was skilled at withholding his praises. The other, the one trailing just behind the first. While he carried himself like a nobleman, it was clear he differed to the other's leadership. Perhaps the first was the crown prince of Colchis himself.
Since he couldn't hear everything, Kyros let his gaze shift to the contingent of soldiers practicing in the sands, particularly the commander shouting for them to perform the routine again and again. This man too, was used to being in control. Kyros smirked to himself as he watched. Even from here he could see holes in the men's defenses as they maneuvered. But that was none of his affair. He was not a soldier. He had no allegiances in this war. Not that anyone would listen to him if he did.
Fotios followed the group down to the docklands, his calm and elegant stride leading his brother and the small retinue of servants that had joined the both of them. The princess rode ahead with her ladiesmaid aboard her steed and the second princess did the same with her guardsman. Neither animal raced ahead of those who walked and it took them a moment to reach the temporary docks that had been built for the Colchians procession that had been foretold.
When the group stopped and waited for the royals of the Colchian ships to disembark and join them, Fotios kept himself a step away from the proceedings. He wasn't a man who liked to make a spectacle of himself, nor was he due to greet these visitors as a royal. He knew his place. Instead, he watched as the other princess dismounted and was joined by her guard and how the Princess Xene had to help down her own maid. He witnessed such an act with a frown. It was kind of the princess but inappropriate. A ladiesmaid who could not do something without suffering their mistress's help was not ladiesmaid. Their existence was to remove duties and responsibilities from the hands of those they tended, not add to them.
He looked away from the group, knowing that it wasn't his place to criticise how Xene handled her help but he locked away such information for later, wondering if it might be something to raise with her when they were alone. Instead, he focused on the exchange between the royals of the two kingdoms and then spoke only when the prince of Colchis looked his way. He nodded simply and said only - "Such supplies are ready for you." His words were proven by the way men in Leventi livery were meeting the soldiers and sailors of the Colchian skip with barrels and wooden crates in hand.
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Fotios followed the group down to the docklands, his calm and elegant stride leading his brother and the small retinue of servants that had joined the both of them. The princess rode ahead with her ladiesmaid aboard her steed and the second princess did the same with her guardsman. Neither animal raced ahead of those who walked and it took them a moment to reach the temporary docks that had been built for the Colchians procession that had been foretold.
When the group stopped and waited for the royals of the Colchian ships to disembark and join them, Fotios kept himself a step away from the proceedings. He wasn't a man who liked to make a spectacle of himself, nor was he due to greet these visitors as a royal. He knew his place. Instead, he watched as the other princess dismounted and was joined by her guard and how the Princess Xene had to help down her own maid. He witnessed such an act with a frown. It was kind of the princess but inappropriate. A ladiesmaid who could not do something without suffering their mistress's help was not ladiesmaid. Their existence was to remove duties and responsibilities from the hands of those they tended, not add to them.
He looked away from the group, knowing that it wasn't his place to criticise how Xene handled her help but he locked away such information for later, wondering if it might be something to raise with her when they were alone. Instead, he focused on the exchange between the royals of the two kingdoms and then spoke only when the prince of Colchis looked his way. He nodded simply and said only - "Such supplies are ready for you." His words were proven by the way men in Leventi livery were meeting the soldiers and sailors of the Colchian skip with barrels and wooden crates in hand.
Fotios followed the group down to the docklands, his calm and elegant stride leading his brother and the small retinue of servants that had joined the both of them. The princess rode ahead with her ladiesmaid aboard her steed and the second princess did the same with her guardsman. Neither animal raced ahead of those who walked and it took them a moment to reach the temporary docks that had been built for the Colchians procession that had been foretold.
When the group stopped and waited for the royals of the Colchian ships to disembark and join them, Fotios kept himself a step away from the proceedings. He wasn't a man who liked to make a spectacle of himself, nor was he due to greet these visitors as a royal. He knew his place. Instead, he watched as the other princess dismounted and was joined by her guard and how the Princess Xene had to help down her own maid. He witnessed such an act with a frown. It was kind of the princess but inappropriate. A ladiesmaid who could not do something without suffering their mistress's help was not ladiesmaid. Their existence was to remove duties and responsibilities from the hands of those they tended, not add to them.
He looked away from the group, knowing that it wasn't his place to criticise how Xene handled her help but he locked away such information for later, wondering if it might be something to raise with her when they were alone. Instead, he focused on the exchange between the royals of the two kingdoms and then spoke only when the prince of Colchis looked his way. He nodded simply and said only - "Such supplies are ready for you." His words were proven by the way men in Leventi livery were meeting the soldiers and sailors of the Colchian skip with barrels and wooden crates in hand.
Perhaps it was foolish for Vangelis to have forgotten the connection between the Princess Xene and Prince Stephanos. Surely it was obvious to those around him and any native to Taengea but Vangelis, despite knowing the familial branches of every royal dynasteia in the Grecian kingdoms did not linger on such knowledge where it didn't seem relevant. Any individuals head could only contain a certain amount of information, up front and ready to be used. And, over the last few weeks, Vangelis' had been full of war and conflict. He had been focused entirely on the battles ahead of him and the way in which Taengea would be a valid stopping point for new resources that beyond telling Stephanos to remain out of sight he had not considered the familial relations that might be awaiting him in Taengea.
Even with Irakles now dead, Stephanos had been declared a traitor to the crown by the Heads of each royal House. That was as good as them witnessing him with his father's head in his hands. Such a declaration could only be eradicated from the tomes of history by an authority higher than that of a Head of House - by the King himself. And even then, only with evidence of innocence, through which the King could convince the Senate. Neither such an authority or such evidence would be here in Taengea. All that lay before Stephanos here was a death sentence.
Vangelis had not ordered the man to stay on the boat. Nor had he banned Stephanos from coming onto the deck of his ship as to avoid notice. It was not his place to order the man on personal matters - only military choices. A man who technically had no rank or family, Vangelis was choosing to see him as the king that he should be and therefore did not order restraint upon his movements. What he had asked Stephanos, was for him to keep a low profile. If he insisted on moving onto Taengean soil for a moment, he needed to do so with his face covered, with his identity hidden. Or he could remain in the belly of his vessel and keep his existence in the fleet hidden.
Yet, here stood Xene of Mikaelidas, sister to Stephanos, her gaze skirting the silhouettes of the men upon their ships as if looking for something with a decided air of nonchalance.
Vangelis was quiet for a few moments, nodding at Xene's offer of anything she could do to help and wondered carefully on how he could frame his next words. He wasn't a man of great cunning and verbal manipulation. Socialising in courtly games was not his way. But he also knew what it was like to have a sibling missing and to worry for their health.
"I thank you for your kindness princess." He offered, his tone careful, as he stared into her eyes with perhaps a little more intensity than a bare acquaintance should. "My brothers in arms are in good health and spirits. But should that change I will accept such an offer." He wasn't confident that an emphasis on the word 'brother' would not be noticed by others in attendance, so he had to hope for the princess picking up upon his word choice alone.
When the Lord Fotios spoke, Vangelis felt a twinge of discomfort. For he had not mentioned in his correspondence with Lord Fotios the recent change of circumstances between himself and the Lady Selene. Whilst he knew such information would need to be conveyed - whether it was from he or Selene - he had not had the time to risk the damage to the Leventi Kotas bond. He had mentioned nothing of Selene in his last letter - the only one sent since he had broken the engaged between them - and, instead of deepening the lie, had turned to a lie of omission. He knew that such a truth would reveal itself soon but at least now the goods were already ready to go, his presence already apparent and his desire to help their king already underway. Now, it would be near impossible for them to delay proceedings over a slight against their name and House. It wasn't the way to be honourable. But given the number of lives resting on his speedy journey to Egypt, it was the least risky to his duty.
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Perhaps it was foolish for Vangelis to have forgotten the connection between the Princess Xene and Prince Stephanos. Surely it was obvious to those around him and any native to Taengea but Vangelis, despite knowing the familial branches of every royal dynasteia in the Grecian kingdoms did not linger on such knowledge where it didn't seem relevant. Any individuals head could only contain a certain amount of information, up front and ready to be used. And, over the last few weeks, Vangelis' had been full of war and conflict. He had been focused entirely on the battles ahead of him and the way in which Taengea would be a valid stopping point for new resources that beyond telling Stephanos to remain out of sight he had not considered the familial relations that might be awaiting him in Taengea.
Even with Irakles now dead, Stephanos had been declared a traitor to the crown by the Heads of each royal House. That was as good as them witnessing him with his father's head in his hands. Such a declaration could only be eradicated from the tomes of history by an authority higher than that of a Head of House - by the King himself. And even then, only with evidence of innocence, through which the King could convince the Senate. Neither such an authority or such evidence would be here in Taengea. All that lay before Stephanos here was a death sentence.
Vangelis had not ordered the man to stay on the boat. Nor had he banned Stephanos from coming onto the deck of his ship as to avoid notice. It was not his place to order the man on personal matters - only military choices. A man who technically had no rank or family, Vangelis was choosing to see him as the king that he should be and therefore did not order restraint upon his movements. What he had asked Stephanos, was for him to keep a low profile. If he insisted on moving onto Taengean soil for a moment, he needed to do so with his face covered, with his identity hidden. Or he could remain in the belly of his vessel and keep his existence in the fleet hidden.
Yet, here stood Xene of Mikaelidas, sister to Stephanos, her gaze skirting the silhouettes of the men upon their ships as if looking for something with a decided air of nonchalance.
Vangelis was quiet for a few moments, nodding at Xene's offer of anything she could do to help and wondered carefully on how he could frame his next words. He wasn't a man of great cunning and verbal manipulation. Socialising in courtly games was not his way. But he also knew what it was like to have a sibling missing and to worry for their health.
"I thank you for your kindness princess." He offered, his tone careful, as he stared into her eyes with perhaps a little more intensity than a bare acquaintance should. "My brothers in arms are in good health and spirits. But should that change I will accept such an offer." He wasn't confident that an emphasis on the word 'brother' would not be noticed by others in attendance, so he had to hope for the princess picking up upon his word choice alone.
When the Lord Fotios spoke, Vangelis felt a twinge of discomfort. For he had not mentioned in his correspondence with Lord Fotios the recent change of circumstances between himself and the Lady Selene. Whilst he knew such information would need to be conveyed - whether it was from he or Selene - he had not had the time to risk the damage to the Leventi Kotas bond. He had mentioned nothing of Selene in his last letter - the only one sent since he had broken the engaged between them - and, instead of deepening the lie, had turned to a lie of omission. He knew that such a truth would reveal itself soon but at least now the goods were already ready to go, his presence already apparent and his desire to help their king already underway. Now, it would be near impossible for them to delay proceedings over a slight against their name and House. It wasn't the way to be honourable. But given the number of lives resting on his speedy journey to Egypt, it was the least risky to his duty.
Perhaps it was foolish for Vangelis to have forgotten the connection between the Princess Xene and Prince Stephanos. Surely it was obvious to those around him and any native to Taengea but Vangelis, despite knowing the familial branches of every royal dynasteia in the Grecian kingdoms did not linger on such knowledge where it didn't seem relevant. Any individuals head could only contain a certain amount of information, up front and ready to be used. And, over the last few weeks, Vangelis' had been full of war and conflict. He had been focused entirely on the battles ahead of him and the way in which Taengea would be a valid stopping point for new resources that beyond telling Stephanos to remain out of sight he had not considered the familial relations that might be awaiting him in Taengea.
Even with Irakles now dead, Stephanos had been declared a traitor to the crown by the Heads of each royal House. That was as good as them witnessing him with his father's head in his hands. Such a declaration could only be eradicated from the tomes of history by an authority higher than that of a Head of House - by the King himself. And even then, only with evidence of innocence, through which the King could convince the Senate. Neither such an authority or such evidence would be here in Taengea. All that lay before Stephanos here was a death sentence.
Vangelis had not ordered the man to stay on the boat. Nor had he banned Stephanos from coming onto the deck of his ship as to avoid notice. It was not his place to order the man on personal matters - only military choices. A man who technically had no rank or family, Vangelis was choosing to see him as the king that he should be and therefore did not order restraint upon his movements. What he had asked Stephanos, was for him to keep a low profile. If he insisted on moving onto Taengean soil for a moment, he needed to do so with his face covered, with his identity hidden. Or he could remain in the belly of his vessel and keep his existence in the fleet hidden.
Yet, here stood Xene of Mikaelidas, sister to Stephanos, her gaze skirting the silhouettes of the men upon their ships as if looking for something with a decided air of nonchalance.
Vangelis was quiet for a few moments, nodding at Xene's offer of anything she could do to help and wondered carefully on how he could frame his next words. He wasn't a man of great cunning and verbal manipulation. Socialising in courtly games was not his way. But he also knew what it was like to have a sibling missing and to worry for their health.
"I thank you for your kindness princess." He offered, his tone careful, as he stared into her eyes with perhaps a little more intensity than a bare acquaintance should. "My brothers in arms are in good health and spirits. But should that change I will accept such an offer." He wasn't confident that an emphasis on the word 'brother' would not be noticed by others in attendance, so he had to hope for the princess picking up upon his word choice alone.
When the Lord Fotios spoke, Vangelis felt a twinge of discomfort. For he had not mentioned in his correspondence with Lord Fotios the recent change of circumstances between himself and the Lady Selene. Whilst he knew such information would need to be conveyed - whether it was from he or Selene - he had not had the time to risk the damage to the Leventi Kotas bond. He had mentioned nothing of Selene in his last letter - the only one sent since he had broken the engaged between them - and, instead of deepening the lie, had turned to a lie of omission. He knew that such a truth would reveal itself soon but at least now the goods were already ready to go, his presence already apparent and his desire to help their king already underway. Now, it would be near impossible for them to delay proceedings over a slight against their name and House. It wasn't the way to be honourable. But given the number of lives resting on his speedy journey to Egypt, it was the least risky to his duty.
Thrasius wasn’t sure what the exact commotion was that was happening down the beach from him. He could see what seemed to be an army unit of men, working hard on the beach and he felt a sort of pang. His dreams as a young man had been to join the ranks of men such as these, but the accident that had permanently damaged his leg had quickly seen to the end of those dreams before they had even really started. He had long since accepted that he would never hold a proper job because of his injury and lifestyle, but seeing men doing what he had dreamed of doing had brought back a bit of that pain.
He pushed that aside for the moment and looked at a small gathering of people who were speaking to each other, or at least they seemed to be. Some sort of nobles if their dress and posture was any indicator. He didn’t think it would be proper for him to waltz up and introduce himself or any such thing, he was a common person from different lands, there was nothing he could add to the conversation that would be important to any of them.
Instead he shifted the bow that was slung across his back and started his way down the beach to see if he could get a bit of a better viewing angle, curious as to what was happening. Perhaps these were men that were destined for the shores of Egypt? He had heard of the brewing war, he would have to be completely oblivious not to have heard of it.
He paused in his limping walk as he spotted another figure who was observing the group. It took him a moment, but a grin came across his face as he realized who that figure was.
“Kyros!” He called out to the man, waving for a moment before he began to make his way over to the other man. He wasn’t sure if he would be happy to see him as well, but while he and his wife had been nursing the injured man back to health, Thrasius at least thought they had built a bond.
He made it over to the other man, the bright grin still on his face, showing his excitement at seeing the other man once more.
“You’re looking much better than the first time we met.” He teased, making reference to the fact that Thrasius had found him on the ground near death.
“Do you know what’s happening?” He asked, motioning to the group of who he assumed were nobles that were discussing something, still a fair distance from the two men who now held a conversation of their own. He wasn’t sure if Kyros would have any more information on the situation than he did, but he figured that it didn’t hurt to ask. Perhaps he would have a better idea and could let Thrasius in on it. He was a curious man by nature.
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Thrasius wasn’t sure what the exact commotion was that was happening down the beach from him. He could see what seemed to be an army unit of men, working hard on the beach and he felt a sort of pang. His dreams as a young man had been to join the ranks of men such as these, but the accident that had permanently damaged his leg had quickly seen to the end of those dreams before they had even really started. He had long since accepted that he would never hold a proper job because of his injury and lifestyle, but seeing men doing what he had dreamed of doing had brought back a bit of that pain.
He pushed that aside for the moment and looked at a small gathering of people who were speaking to each other, or at least they seemed to be. Some sort of nobles if their dress and posture was any indicator. He didn’t think it would be proper for him to waltz up and introduce himself or any such thing, he was a common person from different lands, there was nothing he could add to the conversation that would be important to any of them.
Instead he shifted the bow that was slung across his back and started his way down the beach to see if he could get a bit of a better viewing angle, curious as to what was happening. Perhaps these were men that were destined for the shores of Egypt? He had heard of the brewing war, he would have to be completely oblivious not to have heard of it.
He paused in his limping walk as he spotted another figure who was observing the group. It took him a moment, but a grin came across his face as he realized who that figure was.
“Kyros!” He called out to the man, waving for a moment before he began to make his way over to the other man. He wasn’t sure if he would be happy to see him as well, but while he and his wife had been nursing the injured man back to health, Thrasius at least thought they had built a bond.
He made it over to the other man, the bright grin still on his face, showing his excitement at seeing the other man once more.
“You’re looking much better than the first time we met.” He teased, making reference to the fact that Thrasius had found him on the ground near death.
“Do you know what’s happening?” He asked, motioning to the group of who he assumed were nobles that were discussing something, still a fair distance from the two men who now held a conversation of their own. He wasn’t sure if Kyros would have any more information on the situation than he did, but he figured that it didn’t hurt to ask. Perhaps he would have a better idea and could let Thrasius in on it. He was a curious man by nature.
Thrasius wasn’t sure what the exact commotion was that was happening down the beach from him. He could see what seemed to be an army unit of men, working hard on the beach and he felt a sort of pang. His dreams as a young man had been to join the ranks of men such as these, but the accident that had permanently damaged his leg had quickly seen to the end of those dreams before they had even really started. He had long since accepted that he would never hold a proper job because of his injury and lifestyle, but seeing men doing what he had dreamed of doing had brought back a bit of that pain.
He pushed that aside for the moment and looked at a small gathering of people who were speaking to each other, or at least they seemed to be. Some sort of nobles if their dress and posture was any indicator. He didn’t think it would be proper for him to waltz up and introduce himself or any such thing, he was a common person from different lands, there was nothing he could add to the conversation that would be important to any of them.
Instead he shifted the bow that was slung across his back and started his way down the beach to see if he could get a bit of a better viewing angle, curious as to what was happening. Perhaps these were men that were destined for the shores of Egypt? He had heard of the brewing war, he would have to be completely oblivious not to have heard of it.
He paused in his limping walk as he spotted another figure who was observing the group. It took him a moment, but a grin came across his face as he realized who that figure was.
“Kyros!” He called out to the man, waving for a moment before he began to make his way over to the other man. He wasn’t sure if he would be happy to see him as well, but while he and his wife had been nursing the injured man back to health, Thrasius at least thought they had built a bond.
He made it over to the other man, the bright grin still on his face, showing his excitement at seeing the other man once more.
“You’re looking much better than the first time we met.” He teased, making reference to the fact that Thrasius had found him on the ground near death.
“Do you know what’s happening?” He asked, motioning to the group of who he assumed were nobles that were discussing something, still a fair distance from the two men who now held a conversation of their own. He wasn’t sure if Kyros would have any more information on the situation than he did, but he figured that it didn’t hurt to ask. Perhaps he would have a better idea and could let Thrasius in on it. He was a curious man by nature.
This stretch of sea had been the easier leg of their journey and Tython found himself somewhat relieved that he would get one last stretch upon Greecian soil. It was not Colchian soil, but Taengean sand. That did not bother the king. He had spent some time, here and there, in Taengea once he and Yanni had been engaged and a few times since the two of them had been married. Not all was war with the King and he had long enjoyed the fruits of the Taengean people when given the chance to. Not to mention that he truly liked to check in with his brother-in-law, knowing that Lord Gavriil was likely and often curious about his sister.
The fact that she had born five children likely didn't miss its mark, but it was nice, sometimes, to speak with a man in person.
If the King was looking for anyone at all as he stepped off of the boat, trailing long behind his son as he finished giving some of the men direction, it would have been Lord Gavriil of Dimitrou. Tython did not immediately spot him as he stepped calmly and slowly down the docks, the crowned helm of his armor held firmly at his side instead of upon his head. Though, the rest of his armor glimmered cold in the Teangean sunlight, for which Tython was immediately glad for. While Teangea was warm, Egypt truly had nothing on the Greeks when it came to the heat.
Noting that Prince Vangelis had placed himself at the help of the introductions with the Taengean nobles and royalty, Tython hung back for a few moments to give the prince and Princess Xene a few moments to converse with one another. All the while, Tython's gaze lifted to the nobility that stood with her, as well as the younger princess of Taengea, newly unseated and replaced with the other branch of Mikaelidas.
He quickly and sharply pulled his thoughts from such things, taking a few paces forward so that he could stand beside Vangelis. In a tone that mirrored that of his son, he spoke his thanks for the Teangean hospitality. "Colchis thanks you for your willingness to host our men and our ships for even the shortest of times," King Tython said calmly, looking to the noblemen and then beyond to the Colchian soldiers that were already being lined up and drilled by Captain Maleos. His gaze remained fixed there, observing the young man and the way that he commanded the attention of his men.
Always thinking in terms of war, Tython filed away silent plans and notes to the back of his mind, sure he would think on them later. Then, the man pulled his gaze back to their hosts, waiting to see who else would speak up in greeting.
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This stretch of sea had been the easier leg of their journey and Tython found himself somewhat relieved that he would get one last stretch upon Greecian soil. It was not Colchian soil, but Taengean sand. That did not bother the king. He had spent some time, here and there, in Taengea once he and Yanni had been engaged and a few times since the two of them had been married. Not all was war with the King and he had long enjoyed the fruits of the Taengean people when given the chance to. Not to mention that he truly liked to check in with his brother-in-law, knowing that Lord Gavriil was likely and often curious about his sister.
The fact that she had born five children likely didn't miss its mark, but it was nice, sometimes, to speak with a man in person.
If the King was looking for anyone at all as he stepped off of the boat, trailing long behind his son as he finished giving some of the men direction, it would have been Lord Gavriil of Dimitrou. Tython did not immediately spot him as he stepped calmly and slowly down the docks, the crowned helm of his armor held firmly at his side instead of upon his head. Though, the rest of his armor glimmered cold in the Teangean sunlight, for which Tython was immediately glad for. While Teangea was warm, Egypt truly had nothing on the Greeks when it came to the heat.
Noting that Prince Vangelis had placed himself at the help of the introductions with the Taengean nobles and royalty, Tython hung back for a few moments to give the prince and Princess Xene a few moments to converse with one another. All the while, Tython's gaze lifted to the nobility that stood with her, as well as the younger princess of Taengea, newly unseated and replaced with the other branch of Mikaelidas.
He quickly and sharply pulled his thoughts from such things, taking a few paces forward so that he could stand beside Vangelis. In a tone that mirrored that of his son, he spoke his thanks for the Teangean hospitality. "Colchis thanks you for your willingness to host our men and our ships for even the shortest of times," King Tython said calmly, looking to the noblemen and then beyond to the Colchian soldiers that were already being lined up and drilled by Captain Maleos. His gaze remained fixed there, observing the young man and the way that he commanded the attention of his men.
Always thinking in terms of war, Tython filed away silent plans and notes to the back of his mind, sure he would think on them later. Then, the man pulled his gaze back to their hosts, waiting to see who else would speak up in greeting.
This stretch of sea had been the easier leg of their journey and Tython found himself somewhat relieved that he would get one last stretch upon Greecian soil. It was not Colchian soil, but Taengean sand. That did not bother the king. He had spent some time, here and there, in Taengea once he and Yanni had been engaged and a few times since the two of them had been married. Not all was war with the King and he had long enjoyed the fruits of the Taengean people when given the chance to. Not to mention that he truly liked to check in with his brother-in-law, knowing that Lord Gavriil was likely and often curious about his sister.
The fact that she had born five children likely didn't miss its mark, but it was nice, sometimes, to speak with a man in person.
If the King was looking for anyone at all as he stepped off of the boat, trailing long behind his son as he finished giving some of the men direction, it would have been Lord Gavriil of Dimitrou. Tython did not immediately spot him as he stepped calmly and slowly down the docks, the crowned helm of his armor held firmly at his side instead of upon his head. Though, the rest of his armor glimmered cold in the Teangean sunlight, for which Tython was immediately glad for. While Teangea was warm, Egypt truly had nothing on the Greeks when it came to the heat.
Noting that Prince Vangelis had placed himself at the help of the introductions with the Taengean nobles and royalty, Tython hung back for a few moments to give the prince and Princess Xene a few moments to converse with one another. All the while, Tython's gaze lifted to the nobility that stood with her, as well as the younger princess of Taengea, newly unseated and replaced with the other branch of Mikaelidas.
He quickly and sharply pulled his thoughts from such things, taking a few paces forward so that he could stand beside Vangelis. In a tone that mirrored that of his son, he spoke his thanks for the Teangean hospitality. "Colchis thanks you for your willingness to host our men and our ships for even the shortest of times," King Tython said calmly, looking to the noblemen and then beyond to the Colchian soldiers that were already being lined up and drilled by Captain Maleos. His gaze remained fixed there, observing the young man and the way that he commanded the attention of his men.
Always thinking in terms of war, Tython filed away silent plans and notes to the back of his mind, sure he would think on them later. Then, the man pulled his gaze back to their hosts, waiting to see who else would speak up in greeting.
Dorothea had done something she had never done before—then again, she had never been angry enough at her father for a long period of time to do anything rash. They had squabbled in the past, but never about anything serious and never for long. Their bond was stronger than that. Or so she had thought. It seemed they had finally found something worth reaching the breaking point. And as much as Dorothea was upset, she also didn’t want to cross that final line with the man. She still loved him for all she couldn’t understand him right now and hoped that one day he would believe in her enough to trust her again. Until that time, she needed space. Both of them in the same estates had not led to anything productive lately. So, Dorothea had packed up a small bag of clothing and items along with her bow and arrow and had written a polite note to Gavriil informing him that she would be spending some time in their home in the capital. It wasn’t an ideal choice for the woman who loved to be outdoors and in her lands, but it made the most sense for the time being. She couldn’t risk running across her father at every moment. Not when things between them were so rocky.
And so, she had been at their home in the capital for a short while now, growing steadily used to city life. Well, as much as was possible for a Dimitrou. She kept her archery skills sharp, practicing in their courtyard every day. When she wasn’t doing that, she wandered the city, growing used to the streets. She had even found herself attending a few events at the royal palati. It was odd at first, but others seemed to have accepted her presence. This was better than staying at home alone all day. She finally wrote back to Persephone, feeling bad for her delay, but finally having enough space to write without so much deep emotion. It hurt a little less to think of what had transpired.
It helped that there was a far greater thing to be worrying about these days: war. The Taengeans had been gone for nearly a month and the Colchians weren’t far behind. Everyone lay in fear that the Egyptians would arrive on their shores soon and great preparations had been made. Dorothea found that she could be useful in such a place. Her skill was the bow was well known and surely even her father couldn’t object to her defending their city. At least, she hoped because she hadn’t asked him. She was done asking permission to do anything. She was a grown woman with her own skills, perfectly capable of defending their nation.
Today found Dorothea at the outer walls of the city, where there was plenty of bustle about. She had spent more and more time there lately, getting to know the commoners who were preparing to fight. She mostly avoided the nobility if she could, preferring not to explain herself to the likes of Fotios of Leventi. As usual, she carried her bow on her back. This was the one place she did not want to be caught without it and it was not a strange sight as it might be elsewhere in the city. Dorothea had her hair tied back tightly, preventing the wind or any sudden movements on her part that might cause her locks to get in the way. Similarly, her chiton was not for show, but was more akin to something to fight or ride in. She had been working on changing her wardrobe since coming to the capital, not wanting to be caught in a dress should she need to fight. She would prove that she could be ready.
Dorothea greeted a few familiar faces as she wandered, making her way up to the walls to get a view. She avoided some of the nobility before they noticed her, though something else quickly caught their attention and they were making their way down to the shore. Dorothea took advantage of their absence, approaching the wall and watching the scene unfold below. Ships were coming ashore, but they were not the Egyptian ships that everyone feared. It was the Colchains, here to restock. As the docked, Dorothea spotted a familiar figure disembarking – her cousin, Vangelis. She was not in the least shocked to see him and even hoped that she might speak with him. They hard parted on good terms last and he was a man who had proven that he could respect her and her craft. Perhaps even enough to take her aboard. After all, the Colchains did have women in their army…
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Dorothea had done something she had never done before—then again, she had never been angry enough at her father for a long period of time to do anything rash. They had squabbled in the past, but never about anything serious and never for long. Their bond was stronger than that. Or so she had thought. It seemed they had finally found something worth reaching the breaking point. And as much as Dorothea was upset, she also didn’t want to cross that final line with the man. She still loved him for all she couldn’t understand him right now and hoped that one day he would believe in her enough to trust her again. Until that time, she needed space. Both of them in the same estates had not led to anything productive lately. So, Dorothea had packed up a small bag of clothing and items along with her bow and arrow and had written a polite note to Gavriil informing him that she would be spending some time in their home in the capital. It wasn’t an ideal choice for the woman who loved to be outdoors and in her lands, but it made the most sense for the time being. She couldn’t risk running across her father at every moment. Not when things between them were so rocky.
And so, she had been at their home in the capital for a short while now, growing steadily used to city life. Well, as much as was possible for a Dimitrou. She kept her archery skills sharp, practicing in their courtyard every day. When she wasn’t doing that, she wandered the city, growing used to the streets. She had even found herself attending a few events at the royal palati. It was odd at first, but others seemed to have accepted her presence. This was better than staying at home alone all day. She finally wrote back to Persephone, feeling bad for her delay, but finally having enough space to write without so much deep emotion. It hurt a little less to think of what had transpired.
It helped that there was a far greater thing to be worrying about these days: war. The Taengeans had been gone for nearly a month and the Colchians weren’t far behind. Everyone lay in fear that the Egyptians would arrive on their shores soon and great preparations had been made. Dorothea found that she could be useful in such a place. Her skill was the bow was well known and surely even her father couldn’t object to her defending their city. At least, she hoped because she hadn’t asked him. She was done asking permission to do anything. She was a grown woman with her own skills, perfectly capable of defending their nation.
Today found Dorothea at the outer walls of the city, where there was plenty of bustle about. She had spent more and more time there lately, getting to know the commoners who were preparing to fight. She mostly avoided the nobility if she could, preferring not to explain herself to the likes of Fotios of Leventi. As usual, she carried her bow on her back. This was the one place she did not want to be caught without it and it was not a strange sight as it might be elsewhere in the city. Dorothea had her hair tied back tightly, preventing the wind or any sudden movements on her part that might cause her locks to get in the way. Similarly, her chiton was not for show, but was more akin to something to fight or ride in. She had been working on changing her wardrobe since coming to the capital, not wanting to be caught in a dress should she need to fight. She would prove that she could be ready.
Dorothea greeted a few familiar faces as she wandered, making her way up to the walls to get a view. She avoided some of the nobility before they noticed her, though something else quickly caught their attention and they were making their way down to the shore. Dorothea took advantage of their absence, approaching the wall and watching the scene unfold below. Ships were coming ashore, but they were not the Egyptian ships that everyone feared. It was the Colchains, here to restock. As the docked, Dorothea spotted a familiar figure disembarking – her cousin, Vangelis. She was not in the least shocked to see him and even hoped that she might speak with him. They hard parted on good terms last and he was a man who had proven that he could respect her and her craft. Perhaps even enough to take her aboard. After all, the Colchains did have women in their army…
Dorothea had done something she had never done before—then again, she had never been angry enough at her father for a long period of time to do anything rash. They had squabbled in the past, but never about anything serious and never for long. Their bond was stronger than that. Or so she had thought. It seemed they had finally found something worth reaching the breaking point. And as much as Dorothea was upset, she also didn’t want to cross that final line with the man. She still loved him for all she couldn’t understand him right now and hoped that one day he would believe in her enough to trust her again. Until that time, she needed space. Both of them in the same estates had not led to anything productive lately. So, Dorothea had packed up a small bag of clothing and items along with her bow and arrow and had written a polite note to Gavriil informing him that she would be spending some time in their home in the capital. It wasn’t an ideal choice for the woman who loved to be outdoors and in her lands, but it made the most sense for the time being. She couldn’t risk running across her father at every moment. Not when things between them were so rocky.
And so, she had been at their home in the capital for a short while now, growing steadily used to city life. Well, as much as was possible for a Dimitrou. She kept her archery skills sharp, practicing in their courtyard every day. When she wasn’t doing that, she wandered the city, growing used to the streets. She had even found herself attending a few events at the royal palati. It was odd at first, but others seemed to have accepted her presence. This was better than staying at home alone all day. She finally wrote back to Persephone, feeling bad for her delay, but finally having enough space to write without so much deep emotion. It hurt a little less to think of what had transpired.
It helped that there was a far greater thing to be worrying about these days: war. The Taengeans had been gone for nearly a month and the Colchians weren’t far behind. Everyone lay in fear that the Egyptians would arrive on their shores soon and great preparations had been made. Dorothea found that she could be useful in such a place. Her skill was the bow was well known and surely even her father couldn’t object to her defending their city. At least, she hoped because she hadn’t asked him. She was done asking permission to do anything. She was a grown woman with her own skills, perfectly capable of defending their nation.
Today found Dorothea at the outer walls of the city, where there was plenty of bustle about. She had spent more and more time there lately, getting to know the commoners who were preparing to fight. She mostly avoided the nobility if she could, preferring not to explain herself to the likes of Fotios of Leventi. As usual, she carried her bow on her back. This was the one place she did not want to be caught without it and it was not a strange sight as it might be elsewhere in the city. Dorothea had her hair tied back tightly, preventing the wind or any sudden movements on her part that might cause her locks to get in the way. Similarly, her chiton was not for show, but was more akin to something to fight or ride in. She had been working on changing her wardrobe since coming to the capital, not wanting to be caught in a dress should she need to fight. She would prove that she could be ready.
Dorothea greeted a few familiar faces as she wandered, making her way up to the walls to get a view. She avoided some of the nobility before they noticed her, though something else quickly caught their attention and they were making their way down to the shore. Dorothea took advantage of their absence, approaching the wall and watching the scene unfold below. Ships were coming ashore, but they were not the Egyptian ships that everyone feared. It was the Colchains, here to restock. As the docked, Dorothea spotted a familiar figure disembarking – her cousin, Vangelis. She was not in the least shocked to see him and even hoped that she might speak with him. They hard parted on good terms last and he was a man who had proven that he could respect her and her craft. Perhaps even enough to take her aboard. After all, the Colchains did have women in their army…
Intent on his observations of the goings on along the docks, Kyros heard but did not acknowledge the sounds of an approach from behind. Ever confident in his ability to move quicker than any attacker that may come against him. One had did, however, rest more comfortably upon the hilt of one of his long daggers. But at the sound of the familiar voice, Kyros visibly relaxed, a smile lighting his features. He turned to greet the man as he came up even with Kyros beneath the shade of the tree. "Thrasius! Greetings, my friend." Kyros did not use that term lightly: friend. Indeed the former Creed member did not consider anyone his friend. Except for dear Thras and his wife. The young couple had saved his life that eventful day mere months ago. And he felt he was forever indebted to them, despite the resulting loss of the security and protection of his Brothers. The feeling of that loss of the brotherhood, the loss of who he'd been, still panged at something inside him. But it was becoming easier to deal with.
Kyros turned his attention to the gathered nobles and soldiers. "The Colchian ships have arrived. A short stop over on their way to aide the Taengean soldiers who have already departed for the shores of Egypt." He paused, narrowing his eyes on the contingent of nobles just up the beach. "The royals of both kingdoms are dancing around double meaning conversation and veiled messages, I'm sure. That is the way of their lot," he told Thras. How he despised the politics, of royals. Just come out and say what you mean!
Kyros straightened as he spotted another man coming from the same boat as the man that Kyros presumed to be the Crown Prince. He noted the way the man carried himself, the helm under his arm, the gleam of his armour. "It appears the Colchian King himself has answered the call to arms."
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Intent on his observations of the goings on along the docks, Kyros heard but did not acknowledge the sounds of an approach from behind. Ever confident in his ability to move quicker than any attacker that may come against him. One had did, however, rest more comfortably upon the hilt of one of his long daggers. But at the sound of the familiar voice, Kyros visibly relaxed, a smile lighting his features. He turned to greet the man as he came up even with Kyros beneath the shade of the tree. "Thrasius! Greetings, my friend." Kyros did not use that term lightly: friend. Indeed the former Creed member did not consider anyone his friend. Except for dear Thras and his wife. The young couple had saved his life that eventful day mere months ago. And he felt he was forever indebted to them, despite the resulting loss of the security and protection of his Brothers. The feeling of that loss of the brotherhood, the loss of who he'd been, still panged at something inside him. But it was becoming easier to deal with.
Kyros turned his attention to the gathered nobles and soldiers. "The Colchian ships have arrived. A short stop over on their way to aide the Taengean soldiers who have already departed for the shores of Egypt." He paused, narrowing his eyes on the contingent of nobles just up the beach. "The royals of both kingdoms are dancing around double meaning conversation and veiled messages, I'm sure. That is the way of their lot," he told Thras. How he despised the politics, of royals. Just come out and say what you mean!
Kyros straightened as he spotted another man coming from the same boat as the man that Kyros presumed to be the Crown Prince. He noted the way the man carried himself, the helm under his arm, the gleam of his armour. "It appears the Colchian King himself has answered the call to arms."
Intent on his observations of the goings on along the docks, Kyros heard but did not acknowledge the sounds of an approach from behind. Ever confident in his ability to move quicker than any attacker that may come against him. One had did, however, rest more comfortably upon the hilt of one of his long daggers. But at the sound of the familiar voice, Kyros visibly relaxed, a smile lighting his features. He turned to greet the man as he came up even with Kyros beneath the shade of the tree. "Thrasius! Greetings, my friend." Kyros did not use that term lightly: friend. Indeed the former Creed member did not consider anyone his friend. Except for dear Thras and his wife. The young couple had saved his life that eventful day mere months ago. And he felt he was forever indebted to them, despite the resulting loss of the security and protection of his Brothers. The feeling of that loss of the brotherhood, the loss of who he'd been, still panged at something inside him. But it was becoming easier to deal with.
Kyros turned his attention to the gathered nobles and soldiers. "The Colchian ships have arrived. A short stop over on their way to aide the Taengean soldiers who have already departed for the shores of Egypt." He paused, narrowing his eyes on the contingent of nobles just up the beach. "The royals of both kingdoms are dancing around double meaning conversation and veiled messages, I'm sure. That is the way of their lot," he told Thras. How he despised the politics, of royals. Just come out and say what you mean!
Kyros straightened as he spotted another man coming from the same boat as the man that Kyros presumed to be the Crown Prince. He noted the way the man carried himself, the helm under his arm, the gleam of his armour. "It appears the Colchian King himself has answered the call to arms."
He was not going to be upstaged
No, if there was one thing that Damocles had resolved to do as he set his grey eyes on the Taengean shores was that he was not going to let that upstart, Maleos, rid him of his place and overshadow him as a militant. This was simply inexcusable and unforgivable. With his brow furrowed, the Herculean captain gave the order to have his miniature army of the Damned come down from the ships like bolts of thunder and lighting against the white sands of their new land. Just so, after giving out his one order to descend down, rows of impressively-armored men and women aligned in meticulously organized formations, all moving in a uniformed manner that underpinned the autocratic willpower that Damocles commonly exercised over his large and remarkable forces.
Immediately, after settling thunderous and frightful upon the sands, the waves of organized soldiers shifted their posture in attention to their commanding officer’s precedential air of authority, affixing their weapons to their chests as their backs straightened and their heels clicked together against the shifting surface they stood proudly on, unyielding and resolute in their commitment to obeying their charismatic superior. Donning his suit of plutonian armor, Damocles languidly moved right in the made space between the soldiers he had vigorously trained for the better part of five years into nothing short of instruments of might and power. His grey eyes harbored clear intentions, focusing on the splendidly organized divisions and squadrons that composed his prideful soldiers, hawkishly going each and every one of the individuals warriors under his command so as to make sure that none of them appeared to be lacking in any way, shape or form. Once he finished, Damocles forwarded to his nominal equivalent in Megaris, Captain Attius of the Hounds of Death.
Having previously served with the Megarian, the Silver-eyed leader of the Damned and him had taken the liberty to coordinate a series of joint military exercises as they traveled across the Aegean, organizing all matter of sparring and training sessions between the two units so as to formally re-introduce their men and women to each other in anticipation of the upcoming war. It was basic knowledge that amongst the armed forces of Colchis, the Damned had stood as one of the top hoplite units of the realm, whilst the Hounds of Death held renowned speciality for their talents for archery. Thus, to compliment each other best, archers from Megaris had been instructed to oversee long-range lessons for their Magnemean counterparts, whilst the Hoplites of the Damned provided adequate insight into the short and mid range combat ranks of the Hounds of Death.
Of course, as everything he did, there had been an underlying purpose to what Damocles had crafted along with Attius at that moment. Anyone who had ever held a weapon in the defense of his or her homeland knew that, during times at war, integration, support and fraternal interconnectivity formed a crucial aspect that could determine how strong or weak a military could be. Bonds forged by the fires of war were typically long-lasting and enduring, occasionally standing generations of intact resilience. He had no great prospects for making sure that the Damned and the Hounds of Death would align into eternal blood brothers, but that did not mean he could not incentivize such desired outcomes by means of exposure and shared experiences. And so, to guarantee that his immediate ambitions were explored and possibly compounded into his aimed outcome, Damocles and Attius mutually agreed that no one soldier would be spared from the joint exercises that had been drafted for the day….except one.
Ever the consummate schemer, the towering militant from Magnemea had insidiously concocted a plan to try and maximize favor with a specific individual in the form of Mihail of Thanasi. In terms of wartime prowess he had been a somewhat impressive archer, he would at least admit to that, but that paled in comparison to what he represented as a potential tool for his future aims and desires. He was no fool, and he knew that the Thanasi had not been known for their bellicose inclinations, even if the Hounds of Death had been a strong unit. After sailing from the shores of Colchis, the silver-eyed Captain had done everything in his power to isolate and remove Mihail from the soldiers of both Megaris and Magnemea in an attempt to centralize his attention upon himself.
It had been why he had been so patient and tolerant with him when he had petulantly demanded better lodgings days before. Why he had learned of his fear of deep water. Why he had carefully crafted a scenario that had led to the near-drowning of the second son of Thanasi. Why he had jumped in the middle of the raging waters like, apparently courageous and brave, rescuing the pale-faced youth as he swam upwards and resuscitated him, pulling him away from Hades’s dominion so as to he be heralded as a lionhearted hero that had saved the nigh-dead youth from certain doom. And it had been why he had excused the boy from military activities until the set sail from Taengea to Egypt, All of it was a calculation, all of it a conniving machination that had aimed to improve his standing with the boy and, by extension his expectedly grateful family of so-called witches.
He was determined to make the most of this war and gain as much as he could from it. There was so much he wanted to do and enact, so many plots and schemes that needed to be better organized by the promise of heightened rank and greater position, and he was not going to count on Vangelis of all people to give him his place by the raised sun of glory. He would have to make his own way, to carve out his future by the strength of his back, the stubbornness of his ambitions and the steadfastness of his fire-forged, iron determination. If he had to resort to the long-tactics of the past and unsheath his cruel sword once more, then he, as the veteran soldier, would do so. He might’ve been scorned and laughed at by others in the past, but now was not the time to sick back and rage, as were his instincts. Now was the time to see his rightful spot in Greece be made clear and evident. Come hell or high-water, the diabolical Damocles of Magnemea was going to have his due, even if that meant coating his already sanguineous hands with blood once more.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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He was not going to be upstaged
No, if there was one thing that Damocles had resolved to do as he set his grey eyes on the Taengean shores was that he was not going to let that upstart, Maleos, rid him of his place and overshadow him as a militant. This was simply inexcusable and unforgivable. With his brow furrowed, the Herculean captain gave the order to have his miniature army of the Damned come down from the ships like bolts of thunder and lighting against the white sands of their new land. Just so, after giving out his one order to descend down, rows of impressively-armored men and women aligned in meticulously organized formations, all moving in a uniformed manner that underpinned the autocratic willpower that Damocles commonly exercised over his large and remarkable forces.
Immediately, after settling thunderous and frightful upon the sands, the waves of organized soldiers shifted their posture in attention to their commanding officer’s precedential air of authority, affixing their weapons to their chests as their backs straightened and their heels clicked together against the shifting surface they stood proudly on, unyielding and resolute in their commitment to obeying their charismatic superior. Donning his suit of plutonian armor, Damocles languidly moved right in the made space between the soldiers he had vigorously trained for the better part of five years into nothing short of instruments of might and power. His grey eyes harbored clear intentions, focusing on the splendidly organized divisions and squadrons that composed his prideful soldiers, hawkishly going each and every one of the individuals warriors under his command so as to make sure that none of them appeared to be lacking in any way, shape or form. Once he finished, Damocles forwarded to his nominal equivalent in Megaris, Captain Attius of the Hounds of Death.
Having previously served with the Megarian, the Silver-eyed leader of the Damned and him had taken the liberty to coordinate a series of joint military exercises as they traveled across the Aegean, organizing all matter of sparring and training sessions between the two units so as to formally re-introduce their men and women to each other in anticipation of the upcoming war. It was basic knowledge that amongst the armed forces of Colchis, the Damned had stood as one of the top hoplite units of the realm, whilst the Hounds of Death held renowned speciality for their talents for archery. Thus, to compliment each other best, archers from Megaris had been instructed to oversee long-range lessons for their Magnemean counterparts, whilst the Hoplites of the Damned provided adequate insight into the short and mid range combat ranks of the Hounds of Death.
Of course, as everything he did, there had been an underlying purpose to what Damocles had crafted along with Attius at that moment. Anyone who had ever held a weapon in the defense of his or her homeland knew that, during times at war, integration, support and fraternal interconnectivity formed a crucial aspect that could determine how strong or weak a military could be. Bonds forged by the fires of war were typically long-lasting and enduring, occasionally standing generations of intact resilience. He had no great prospects for making sure that the Damned and the Hounds of Death would align into eternal blood brothers, but that did not mean he could not incentivize such desired outcomes by means of exposure and shared experiences. And so, to guarantee that his immediate ambitions were explored and possibly compounded into his aimed outcome, Damocles and Attius mutually agreed that no one soldier would be spared from the joint exercises that had been drafted for the day….except one.
Ever the consummate schemer, the towering militant from Magnemea had insidiously concocted a plan to try and maximize favor with a specific individual in the form of Mihail of Thanasi. In terms of wartime prowess he had been a somewhat impressive archer, he would at least admit to that, but that paled in comparison to what he represented as a potential tool for his future aims and desires. He was no fool, and he knew that the Thanasi had not been known for their bellicose inclinations, even if the Hounds of Death had been a strong unit. After sailing from the shores of Colchis, the silver-eyed Captain had done everything in his power to isolate and remove Mihail from the soldiers of both Megaris and Magnemea in an attempt to centralize his attention upon himself.
It had been why he had been so patient and tolerant with him when he had petulantly demanded better lodgings days before. Why he had learned of his fear of deep water. Why he had carefully crafted a scenario that had led to the near-drowning of the second son of Thanasi. Why he had jumped in the middle of the raging waters like, apparently courageous and brave, rescuing the pale-faced youth as he swam upwards and resuscitated him, pulling him away from Hades’s dominion so as to he be heralded as a lionhearted hero that had saved the nigh-dead youth from certain doom. And it had been why he had excused the boy from military activities until the set sail from Taengea to Egypt, All of it was a calculation, all of it a conniving machination that had aimed to improve his standing with the boy and, by extension his expectedly grateful family of so-called witches.
He was determined to make the most of this war and gain as much as he could from it. There was so much he wanted to do and enact, so many plots and schemes that needed to be better organized by the promise of heightened rank and greater position, and he was not going to count on Vangelis of all people to give him his place by the raised sun of glory. He would have to make his own way, to carve out his future by the strength of his back, the stubbornness of his ambitions and the steadfastness of his fire-forged, iron determination. If he had to resort to the long-tactics of the past and unsheath his cruel sword once more, then he, as the veteran soldier, would do so. He might’ve been scorned and laughed at by others in the past, but now was not the time to sick back and rage, as were his instincts. Now was the time to see his rightful spot in Greece be made clear and evident. Come hell or high-water, the diabolical Damocles of Magnemea was going to have his due, even if that meant coating his already sanguineous hands with blood once more.
He was not going to be upstaged
No, if there was one thing that Damocles had resolved to do as he set his grey eyes on the Taengean shores was that he was not going to let that upstart, Maleos, rid him of his place and overshadow him as a militant. This was simply inexcusable and unforgivable. With his brow furrowed, the Herculean captain gave the order to have his miniature army of the Damned come down from the ships like bolts of thunder and lighting against the white sands of their new land. Just so, after giving out his one order to descend down, rows of impressively-armored men and women aligned in meticulously organized formations, all moving in a uniformed manner that underpinned the autocratic willpower that Damocles commonly exercised over his large and remarkable forces.
Immediately, after settling thunderous and frightful upon the sands, the waves of organized soldiers shifted their posture in attention to their commanding officer’s precedential air of authority, affixing their weapons to their chests as their backs straightened and their heels clicked together against the shifting surface they stood proudly on, unyielding and resolute in their commitment to obeying their charismatic superior. Donning his suit of plutonian armor, Damocles languidly moved right in the made space between the soldiers he had vigorously trained for the better part of five years into nothing short of instruments of might and power. His grey eyes harbored clear intentions, focusing on the splendidly organized divisions and squadrons that composed his prideful soldiers, hawkishly going each and every one of the individuals warriors under his command so as to make sure that none of them appeared to be lacking in any way, shape or form. Once he finished, Damocles forwarded to his nominal equivalent in Megaris, Captain Attius of the Hounds of Death.
Having previously served with the Megarian, the Silver-eyed leader of the Damned and him had taken the liberty to coordinate a series of joint military exercises as they traveled across the Aegean, organizing all matter of sparring and training sessions between the two units so as to formally re-introduce their men and women to each other in anticipation of the upcoming war. It was basic knowledge that amongst the armed forces of Colchis, the Damned had stood as one of the top hoplite units of the realm, whilst the Hounds of Death held renowned speciality for their talents for archery. Thus, to compliment each other best, archers from Megaris had been instructed to oversee long-range lessons for their Magnemean counterparts, whilst the Hoplites of the Damned provided adequate insight into the short and mid range combat ranks of the Hounds of Death.
Of course, as everything he did, there had been an underlying purpose to what Damocles had crafted along with Attius at that moment. Anyone who had ever held a weapon in the defense of his or her homeland knew that, during times at war, integration, support and fraternal interconnectivity formed a crucial aspect that could determine how strong or weak a military could be. Bonds forged by the fires of war were typically long-lasting and enduring, occasionally standing generations of intact resilience. He had no great prospects for making sure that the Damned and the Hounds of Death would align into eternal blood brothers, but that did not mean he could not incentivize such desired outcomes by means of exposure and shared experiences. And so, to guarantee that his immediate ambitions were explored and possibly compounded into his aimed outcome, Damocles and Attius mutually agreed that no one soldier would be spared from the joint exercises that had been drafted for the day….except one.
Ever the consummate schemer, the towering militant from Magnemea had insidiously concocted a plan to try and maximize favor with a specific individual in the form of Mihail of Thanasi. In terms of wartime prowess he had been a somewhat impressive archer, he would at least admit to that, but that paled in comparison to what he represented as a potential tool for his future aims and desires. He was no fool, and he knew that the Thanasi had not been known for their bellicose inclinations, even if the Hounds of Death had been a strong unit. After sailing from the shores of Colchis, the silver-eyed Captain had done everything in his power to isolate and remove Mihail from the soldiers of both Megaris and Magnemea in an attempt to centralize his attention upon himself.
It had been why he had been so patient and tolerant with him when he had petulantly demanded better lodgings days before. Why he had learned of his fear of deep water. Why he had carefully crafted a scenario that had led to the near-drowning of the second son of Thanasi. Why he had jumped in the middle of the raging waters like, apparently courageous and brave, rescuing the pale-faced youth as he swam upwards and resuscitated him, pulling him away from Hades’s dominion so as to he be heralded as a lionhearted hero that had saved the nigh-dead youth from certain doom. And it had been why he had excused the boy from military activities until the set sail from Taengea to Egypt, All of it was a calculation, all of it a conniving machination that had aimed to improve his standing with the boy and, by extension his expectedly grateful family of so-called witches.
He was determined to make the most of this war and gain as much as he could from it. There was so much he wanted to do and enact, so many plots and schemes that needed to be better organized by the promise of heightened rank and greater position, and he was not going to count on Vangelis of all people to give him his place by the raised sun of glory. He would have to make his own way, to carve out his future by the strength of his back, the stubbornness of his ambitions and the steadfastness of his fire-forged, iron determination. If he had to resort to the long-tactics of the past and unsheath his cruel sword once more, then he, as the veteran soldier, would do so. He might’ve been scorned and laughed at by others in the past, but now was not the time to sick back and rage, as were his instincts. Now was the time to see his rightful spot in Greece be made clear and evident. Come hell or high-water, the diabolical Damocles of Magnemea was going to have his due, even if that meant coating his already sanguineous hands with blood once more.