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Kyros's steely gaze narrowed on the noble as he spoke. It was indeed a simple logic. Why would this man have sent his men to aid him if he intended to kill him. Would have been much easier if his Brother had done the deed for the Leventi, then he could have sent his guards to take out the Drowned One. Kyros gave a very slight bow of his head as acquiescence of this logic. It was by no means an acceptance of trust, just that he believed the man. About this at least.
So if the Leventi meant Kyros no harm... why was he here? He'd mentioned a job. Kyros finally look away from the man and began actually tending his wound. He wiped the drying blood away and inspected the cut itself. It wasn't as deep as he'd originally thought. It would heal. The bleeding seemed to be stopped at last. While it wasn't a sever wound, he still wished to wrap it so it would be less likely to start bleeding again. He lokked up and round the room, looking for a solution, as the guards had not brought bandages with the water. His grey eyes landed on the drab cloth that served as a drapery over the small window. A strip of that would do the job nicely.
Kyros flicked his eyes back to the man, the reason he was here. He swallowed and cleared his throat. Kyros didn't speak much, so sometimes he had to mentally remind himself that his voice did actually work. "You spoke of a job." Kyros stood, slowly, hands visible so the guards would not think he was moving to attack. Though he could have reached his daggers in plenty of time if necessary. "I am listening," he said curtly as he headed for the window. A window that probably didn't even open properly, but that didn't matter. He gathered up the end of the drapery and deftly tore a strip form the end of it - shortening the thing by a good few inches. Kyros brought the cloth back with him to his chair and proceeded to tie the strip pf make-shift bandage around his bicep with best he could with one hand. His fingers moved gracefully and precisely, as if this wasn't the first time he'd had to do this sort of thing with one hand.
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Kyros's steely gaze narrowed on the noble as he spoke. It was indeed a simple logic. Why would this man have sent his men to aid him if he intended to kill him. Would have been much easier if his Brother had done the deed for the Leventi, then he could have sent his guards to take out the Drowned One. Kyros gave a very slight bow of his head as acquiescence of this logic. It was by no means an acceptance of trust, just that he believed the man. About this at least.
So if the Leventi meant Kyros no harm... why was he here? He'd mentioned a job. Kyros finally look away from the man and began actually tending his wound. He wiped the drying blood away and inspected the cut itself. It wasn't as deep as he'd originally thought. It would heal. The bleeding seemed to be stopped at last. While it wasn't a sever wound, he still wished to wrap it so it would be less likely to start bleeding again. He lokked up and round the room, looking for a solution, as the guards had not brought bandages with the water. His grey eyes landed on the drab cloth that served as a drapery over the small window. A strip of that would do the job nicely.
Kyros flicked his eyes back to the man, the reason he was here. He swallowed and cleared his throat. Kyros didn't speak much, so sometimes he had to mentally remind himself that his voice did actually work. "You spoke of a job." Kyros stood, slowly, hands visible so the guards would not think he was moving to attack. Though he could have reached his daggers in plenty of time if necessary. "I am listening," he said curtly as he headed for the window. A window that probably didn't even open properly, but that didn't matter. He gathered up the end of the drapery and deftly tore a strip form the end of it - shortening the thing by a good few inches. Kyros brought the cloth back with him to his chair and proceeded to tie the strip pf make-shift bandage around his bicep with best he could with one hand. His fingers moved gracefully and precisely, as if this wasn't the first time he'd had to do this sort of thing with one hand.
Kyros's steely gaze narrowed on the noble as he spoke. It was indeed a simple logic. Why would this man have sent his men to aid him if he intended to kill him. Would have been much easier if his Brother had done the deed for the Leventi, then he could have sent his guards to take out the Drowned One. Kyros gave a very slight bow of his head as acquiescence of this logic. It was by no means an acceptance of trust, just that he believed the man. About this at least.
So if the Leventi meant Kyros no harm... why was he here? He'd mentioned a job. Kyros finally look away from the man and began actually tending his wound. He wiped the drying blood away and inspected the cut itself. It wasn't as deep as he'd originally thought. It would heal. The bleeding seemed to be stopped at last. While it wasn't a sever wound, he still wished to wrap it so it would be less likely to start bleeding again. He lokked up and round the room, looking for a solution, as the guards had not brought bandages with the water. His grey eyes landed on the drab cloth that served as a drapery over the small window. A strip of that would do the job nicely.
Kyros flicked his eyes back to the man, the reason he was here. He swallowed and cleared his throat. Kyros didn't speak much, so sometimes he had to mentally remind himself that his voice did actually work. "You spoke of a job." Kyros stood, slowly, hands visible so the guards would not think he was moving to attack. Though he could have reached his daggers in plenty of time if necessary. "I am listening," he said curtly as he headed for the window. A window that probably didn't even open properly, but that didn't matter. He gathered up the end of the drapery and deftly tore a strip form the end of it - shortening the thing by a good few inches. Kyros brought the cloth back with him to his chair and proceeded to tie the strip pf make-shift bandage around his bicep with best he could with one hand. His fingers moved gracefully and precisely, as if this wasn't the first time he'd had to do this sort of thing with one hand.
Fotios sat at complete ease. he was a man who knew of the Creed. Of their rumours and their myths. Of the way that they were used to frighten small children into performing their chores and tending to their bed chambers on time. He knew of the skills they were reported to have had, had seen them in action on the day of the Circus. He knew what they were capable of.
And still he sat upon his side of the table with an ease and elegance that belied any fear. He did not jump or jolt when Kyros moved to stand up. If there was an additional tension in his shoulders - an energy that he could use to convert into sudden movement if necessary - it was not obvious. Instead, the hostility and defensiveness that was absent from his muscles and frame could be seen only in his eyes. His stare was careful, unyielding... defiant. He watched with the eyes of a hawk as Kyros rose from his chair and moved towards the window.
Saying nothing as the young man tore at the cloth that hung around the opening - a cloth designed to hang over the open space and keep out the dust and dirt for the world. The piece he removed from its moorings was about the length needed to wrap around his arm a few times and Fotios cared not for the decor or condition of the room. He made no argument on the matter.
Instead, he remained quiet and unresisting in the man's choices and simply waited for him to return to his seat. Once he had done so, the kid turned his gaze upon the older and spoke with a suspicion and guardedness beyond his years.
'You spoke of a job.'
The corner of Fotios' mouth lifted in a moment of pleasure as he sensed victory. Even if his triumph was only limited to the man paying attention to his offer it was a win in and of itself. The Creed were not known for their trust. To have him openly listening was at least a successful step in the right direction.
"Your past life is dead." He stated bluntly, not dancing around the topic of the man's exile from the clan that he had known as family, home and creed. "You will need to find a new way to survive in the world if you are to outlast the knives of your former brotherhood." His gaze met Kyros' in a look of determined certainty. He had all the confidence to back up his words.
"I can help you with that."
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Fotios sat at complete ease. he was a man who knew of the Creed. Of their rumours and their myths. Of the way that they were used to frighten small children into performing their chores and tending to their bed chambers on time. He knew of the skills they were reported to have had, had seen them in action on the day of the Circus. He knew what they were capable of.
And still he sat upon his side of the table with an ease and elegance that belied any fear. He did not jump or jolt when Kyros moved to stand up. If there was an additional tension in his shoulders - an energy that he could use to convert into sudden movement if necessary - it was not obvious. Instead, the hostility and defensiveness that was absent from his muscles and frame could be seen only in his eyes. His stare was careful, unyielding... defiant. He watched with the eyes of a hawk as Kyros rose from his chair and moved towards the window.
Saying nothing as the young man tore at the cloth that hung around the opening - a cloth designed to hang over the open space and keep out the dust and dirt for the world. The piece he removed from its moorings was about the length needed to wrap around his arm a few times and Fotios cared not for the decor or condition of the room. He made no argument on the matter.
Instead, he remained quiet and unresisting in the man's choices and simply waited for him to return to his seat. Once he had done so, the kid turned his gaze upon the older and spoke with a suspicion and guardedness beyond his years.
'You spoke of a job.'
The corner of Fotios' mouth lifted in a moment of pleasure as he sensed victory. Even if his triumph was only limited to the man paying attention to his offer it was a win in and of itself. The Creed were not known for their trust. To have him openly listening was at least a successful step in the right direction.
"Your past life is dead." He stated bluntly, not dancing around the topic of the man's exile from the clan that he had known as family, home and creed. "You will need to find a new way to survive in the world if you are to outlast the knives of your former brotherhood." His gaze met Kyros' in a look of determined certainty. He had all the confidence to back up his words.
"I can help you with that."
Fotios sat at complete ease. he was a man who knew of the Creed. Of their rumours and their myths. Of the way that they were used to frighten small children into performing their chores and tending to their bed chambers on time. He knew of the skills they were reported to have had, had seen them in action on the day of the Circus. He knew what they were capable of.
And still he sat upon his side of the table with an ease and elegance that belied any fear. He did not jump or jolt when Kyros moved to stand up. If there was an additional tension in his shoulders - an energy that he could use to convert into sudden movement if necessary - it was not obvious. Instead, the hostility and defensiveness that was absent from his muscles and frame could be seen only in his eyes. His stare was careful, unyielding... defiant. He watched with the eyes of a hawk as Kyros rose from his chair and moved towards the window.
Saying nothing as the young man tore at the cloth that hung around the opening - a cloth designed to hang over the open space and keep out the dust and dirt for the world. The piece he removed from its moorings was about the length needed to wrap around his arm a few times and Fotios cared not for the decor or condition of the room. He made no argument on the matter.
Instead, he remained quiet and unresisting in the man's choices and simply waited for him to return to his seat. Once he had done so, the kid turned his gaze upon the older and spoke with a suspicion and guardedness beyond his years.
'You spoke of a job.'
The corner of Fotios' mouth lifted in a moment of pleasure as he sensed victory. Even if his triumph was only limited to the man paying attention to his offer it was a win in and of itself. The Creed were not known for their trust. To have him openly listening was at least a successful step in the right direction.
"Your past life is dead." He stated bluntly, not dancing around the topic of the man's exile from the clan that he had known as family, home and creed. "You will need to find a new way to survive in the world if you are to outlast the knives of your former brotherhood." His gaze met Kyros' in a look of determined certainty. He had all the confidence to back up his words.
"I can help you with that."
Back in his seat at the small table, and his arm bandaged with the torn cloth from the window coverings, Kyros resumed his guarded posture as he watched the noble carefully. Not that he'd ever actually let his guard down. 'Your past life is dead.' That was an understatement. Kyros had no doubt that when the Creed member that had been sent after him did not return, the Shade would send more assassins to hunt him down. 'You will need to find a new way to survive in the world if you are to outlast the knives of your former brotherhood.' Kyros managed to stop the wince at the word former. This would take some getting used to. If he ever got used to it. 'I can help with that.' Kyros smiled darkly, a deep low chuckle bubbling up from his throat. It as true enough. He was going to need to find a way to adapt to not having his Brothers at his back. He would need coin to get more weapons. He would need a place to live, for he couldn't remain with kind Thrasius and sweet Lais forever. They were essentially nomads, going where the jobs could be found. Kyros supposed he could simply travel with them when they left Taengea. But only the gods knew how long that would be from now. And with a target on his head, that may not be the best idea. The couple had saved his life. He owed them more than a target on their heads for harboring the likes of him.
He was nearly healed, though today may have set him back a week. He would need to move on as soon as he could. Would this Leventi actually be willing and able to help him with that? "In exchange for this help, you would ask that I align myself with you." It was not a question, Kyros knew this was the proposal being presented here. He titled his head to the side considering this 'generous' offer. "Why? To what end would a noble of Taengea want a Creed fugitive as an ally? And I use that term loosely, Leventi, do not doubt that." Kyros had been raised by the Creed, had learned well in their ways and beliefs. As such, he despised the royals of Taengea, despised the wasteful and greedy ways of the nobles. His brotherhood had been the stuff of nightmares in Taengea for decades. So he was curious as to what possible interest - other than interrogation and torture - this man would have with a suddenly homeless and ousted member of the Creed.
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Back in his seat at the small table, and his arm bandaged with the torn cloth from the window coverings, Kyros resumed his guarded posture as he watched the noble carefully. Not that he'd ever actually let his guard down. 'Your past life is dead.' That was an understatement. Kyros had no doubt that when the Creed member that had been sent after him did not return, the Shade would send more assassins to hunt him down. 'You will need to find a new way to survive in the world if you are to outlast the knives of your former brotherhood.' Kyros managed to stop the wince at the word former. This would take some getting used to. If he ever got used to it. 'I can help with that.' Kyros smiled darkly, a deep low chuckle bubbling up from his throat. It as true enough. He was going to need to find a way to adapt to not having his Brothers at his back. He would need coin to get more weapons. He would need a place to live, for he couldn't remain with kind Thrasius and sweet Lais forever. They were essentially nomads, going where the jobs could be found. Kyros supposed he could simply travel with them when they left Taengea. But only the gods knew how long that would be from now. And with a target on his head, that may not be the best idea. The couple had saved his life. He owed them more than a target on their heads for harboring the likes of him.
He was nearly healed, though today may have set him back a week. He would need to move on as soon as he could. Would this Leventi actually be willing and able to help him with that? "In exchange for this help, you would ask that I align myself with you." It was not a question, Kyros knew this was the proposal being presented here. He titled his head to the side considering this 'generous' offer. "Why? To what end would a noble of Taengea want a Creed fugitive as an ally? And I use that term loosely, Leventi, do not doubt that." Kyros had been raised by the Creed, had learned well in their ways and beliefs. As such, he despised the royals of Taengea, despised the wasteful and greedy ways of the nobles. His brotherhood had been the stuff of nightmares in Taengea for decades. So he was curious as to what possible interest - other than interrogation and torture - this man would have with a suddenly homeless and ousted member of the Creed.
Back in his seat at the small table, and his arm bandaged with the torn cloth from the window coverings, Kyros resumed his guarded posture as he watched the noble carefully. Not that he'd ever actually let his guard down. 'Your past life is dead.' That was an understatement. Kyros had no doubt that when the Creed member that had been sent after him did not return, the Shade would send more assassins to hunt him down. 'You will need to find a new way to survive in the world if you are to outlast the knives of your former brotherhood.' Kyros managed to stop the wince at the word former. This would take some getting used to. If he ever got used to it. 'I can help with that.' Kyros smiled darkly, a deep low chuckle bubbling up from his throat. It as true enough. He was going to need to find a way to adapt to not having his Brothers at his back. He would need coin to get more weapons. He would need a place to live, for he couldn't remain with kind Thrasius and sweet Lais forever. They were essentially nomads, going where the jobs could be found. Kyros supposed he could simply travel with them when they left Taengea. But only the gods knew how long that would be from now. And with a target on his head, that may not be the best idea. The couple had saved his life. He owed them more than a target on their heads for harboring the likes of him.
He was nearly healed, though today may have set him back a week. He would need to move on as soon as he could. Would this Leventi actually be willing and able to help him with that? "In exchange for this help, you would ask that I align myself with you." It was not a question, Kyros knew this was the proposal being presented here. He titled his head to the side considering this 'generous' offer. "Why? To what end would a noble of Taengea want a Creed fugitive as an ally? And I use that term loosely, Leventi, do not doubt that." Kyros had been raised by the Creed, had learned well in their ways and beliefs. As such, he despised the royals of Taengea, despised the wasteful and greedy ways of the nobles. His brotherhood had been the stuff of nightmares in Taengea for decades. So he was curious as to what possible interest - other than interrogation and torture - this man would have with a suddenly homeless and ousted member of the Creed.
Fotios watched the man's reactions to his words. He knew that the man that went by the name of Kyros had just lost everything that he knew to be right and secure in the world: his brothers, his home and, to a certain degree, potentially the creed of morals he had been raised to believe. If they hadn't been altered then it was natural that they would at least be shaken a little. The shadows that had pledged loyalty to those that operated within their unit had just tried to kill him and a member of the royal houses of Taengea - whom the Creed vowed as evil and due for revenge - had just saved his life. Such things were topsy-turvy in a world that had only ever accepted white and black and its norms. No grey.
But Fotios held no sympathy for such a state of mind. He knew that the fine cracks and fissures that may have started to appear in the back of Kyros' mind would hold discomfort, anxiety and be unpleasant in most ways but he didn't much care for this man's personal serenity. Instead, he was more interested in the opportunities that just such cracks presented. The moments of weakness and vulnerability that had people act in a means of self-protection over perhaps the more logical or long-term considerations that would prompt them otherwise. Being emotion and at a literal loss in your life was the most likely state in which Fotios could see his entanglements bear fruit.
To Kyros, Fotios said nothing of such musings. Instead, he witnessed his reactions to the news of his life's dismal happenings that eve and he took the silence on the man's part for proof of his theorising. No man wished to speak of that which made them feel vulnerable, made them feel weak.
When words of bravado attempted to undue this vision of disorientation, of self-protection and hostility, Fotios knew that he was on to a win of personal manipulation. The man was following every step of the the grieving process, every guide of what it meant to lose an element of yourself and feel the hot friction of torn skin from where it had been ripped.
"I have no intention of us being allies, Kyros, fear not." He stated simply. He shook his head just to illustrate his point. His tone was light and conversational but it held a depth to it that told them both that he knew exactly what he was saying and how he was saying it; that he was no fool. "I am a royal of Taengea and you are a man bent on removing such people form this plane. You're not about to see me as a brother in arms any more than I'm too see you as anything more than a shadow of use."
His gaze narrowed and Fotios leant back in his chair with casual ease. His hands came up and with elbows rested on the arms of his chair, he steepled his fingertips in a speculative gesture. The chair rocked a little on its back legs before his guiding foot brought it back flat to the ground.
"I'm not interested in a friend or comrade, Shadow Walker, but in someone who can aid me in my intentions. You wish for any royal or noble of Taengea to be given a taste of rejection and disication. I wish for the same but only a few in particular." He offered a slight nod. "I can give you half the job you were trained to do in exchange for ensuring that your old brothers-in-arms leave you to your life unmasked...?" His stare was speculative and didn't yield in his suggestions as he proposed such an arrangement. His tone was silky, cold and perfectly pleasant in its effortless simplicity.
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Fotios watched the man's reactions to his words. He knew that the man that went by the name of Kyros had just lost everything that he knew to be right and secure in the world: his brothers, his home and, to a certain degree, potentially the creed of morals he had been raised to believe. If they hadn't been altered then it was natural that they would at least be shaken a little. The shadows that had pledged loyalty to those that operated within their unit had just tried to kill him and a member of the royal houses of Taengea - whom the Creed vowed as evil and due for revenge - had just saved his life. Such things were topsy-turvy in a world that had only ever accepted white and black and its norms. No grey.
But Fotios held no sympathy for such a state of mind. He knew that the fine cracks and fissures that may have started to appear in the back of Kyros' mind would hold discomfort, anxiety and be unpleasant in most ways but he didn't much care for this man's personal serenity. Instead, he was more interested in the opportunities that just such cracks presented. The moments of weakness and vulnerability that had people act in a means of self-protection over perhaps the more logical or long-term considerations that would prompt them otherwise. Being emotion and at a literal loss in your life was the most likely state in which Fotios could see his entanglements bear fruit.
To Kyros, Fotios said nothing of such musings. Instead, he witnessed his reactions to the news of his life's dismal happenings that eve and he took the silence on the man's part for proof of his theorising. No man wished to speak of that which made them feel vulnerable, made them feel weak.
When words of bravado attempted to undue this vision of disorientation, of self-protection and hostility, Fotios knew that he was on to a win of personal manipulation. The man was following every step of the the grieving process, every guide of what it meant to lose an element of yourself and feel the hot friction of torn skin from where it had been ripped.
"I have no intention of us being allies, Kyros, fear not." He stated simply. He shook his head just to illustrate his point. His tone was light and conversational but it held a depth to it that told them both that he knew exactly what he was saying and how he was saying it; that he was no fool. "I am a royal of Taengea and you are a man bent on removing such people form this plane. You're not about to see me as a brother in arms any more than I'm too see you as anything more than a shadow of use."
His gaze narrowed and Fotios leant back in his chair with casual ease. His hands came up and with elbows rested on the arms of his chair, he steepled his fingertips in a speculative gesture. The chair rocked a little on its back legs before his guiding foot brought it back flat to the ground.
"I'm not interested in a friend or comrade, Shadow Walker, but in someone who can aid me in my intentions. You wish for any royal or noble of Taengea to be given a taste of rejection and disication. I wish for the same but only a few in particular." He offered a slight nod. "I can give you half the job you were trained to do in exchange for ensuring that your old brothers-in-arms leave you to your life unmasked...?" His stare was speculative and didn't yield in his suggestions as he proposed such an arrangement. His tone was silky, cold and perfectly pleasant in its effortless simplicity.
Fotios watched the man's reactions to his words. He knew that the man that went by the name of Kyros had just lost everything that he knew to be right and secure in the world: his brothers, his home and, to a certain degree, potentially the creed of morals he had been raised to believe. If they hadn't been altered then it was natural that they would at least be shaken a little. The shadows that had pledged loyalty to those that operated within their unit had just tried to kill him and a member of the royal houses of Taengea - whom the Creed vowed as evil and due for revenge - had just saved his life. Such things were topsy-turvy in a world that had only ever accepted white and black and its norms. No grey.
But Fotios held no sympathy for such a state of mind. He knew that the fine cracks and fissures that may have started to appear in the back of Kyros' mind would hold discomfort, anxiety and be unpleasant in most ways but he didn't much care for this man's personal serenity. Instead, he was more interested in the opportunities that just such cracks presented. The moments of weakness and vulnerability that had people act in a means of self-protection over perhaps the more logical or long-term considerations that would prompt them otherwise. Being emotion and at a literal loss in your life was the most likely state in which Fotios could see his entanglements bear fruit.
To Kyros, Fotios said nothing of such musings. Instead, he witnessed his reactions to the news of his life's dismal happenings that eve and he took the silence on the man's part for proof of his theorising. No man wished to speak of that which made them feel vulnerable, made them feel weak.
When words of bravado attempted to undue this vision of disorientation, of self-protection and hostility, Fotios knew that he was on to a win of personal manipulation. The man was following every step of the the grieving process, every guide of what it meant to lose an element of yourself and feel the hot friction of torn skin from where it had been ripped.
"I have no intention of us being allies, Kyros, fear not." He stated simply. He shook his head just to illustrate his point. His tone was light and conversational but it held a depth to it that told them both that he knew exactly what he was saying and how he was saying it; that he was no fool. "I am a royal of Taengea and you are a man bent on removing such people form this plane. You're not about to see me as a brother in arms any more than I'm too see you as anything more than a shadow of use."
His gaze narrowed and Fotios leant back in his chair with casual ease. His hands came up and with elbows rested on the arms of his chair, he steepled his fingertips in a speculative gesture. The chair rocked a little on its back legs before his guiding foot brought it back flat to the ground.
"I'm not interested in a friend or comrade, Shadow Walker, but in someone who can aid me in my intentions. You wish for any royal or noble of Taengea to be given a taste of rejection and disication. I wish for the same but only a few in particular." He offered a slight nod. "I can give you half the job you were trained to do in exchange for ensuring that your old brothers-in-arms leave you to your life unmasked...?" His stare was speculative and didn't yield in his suggestions as he proposed such an arrangement. His tone was silky, cold and perfectly pleasant in its effortless simplicity.
The Shadow Walker was most certainly feeling like the world was spinning before him. He suddenly had no family, no security. Nothing. He already owed Thrasius for saving his life after he'd been injured at the attack on the chariot races. And now... did he seriously owe his life yet again? And to a damned royal? No. No this was all a terrible nightmare and he would wake up. He had to wake up. The Leventi's words brought his thoughts back to the situation before him. For as much as he wanted to deny recent events... he could not. His life depended on him facing what was being dealt him. A life I should have given to the cause.
'I have no intention of us being allies, Kyros, fear not.'
Then we are of like mind, in that at least, the man thought to himself. AS far as any other subject, Kyros was certain they would be at odds. But as Fotios further explained his motivations behind this meeting, the reason the noble had saved him from being over powered and killed by a brother... Kyros narrowed his grey gaze and tilted his head slightly to the left as he regarded the man before him.
'I can give you half the job you were trained to do in exchange for ensuring that your old brothers-in-arms leave you to your life unmasked...?'
The Leventi had designs on certain members of his own extended family. He wanted to use the alienated Drowned One as a tool to take these people down. Kyros' curiosity was piqued to say the least. Of course it wasn't unheard of for members of the royal family to get tired of a certain regime and seek to eliminate those in line ahead of them in succession of the crown. Kyros pulled in enough air to inflate his lungs completely, his chest lifting visibly - though when he let it out he winced from the pain of the breath and lifted his chin to look towards the ceiling until the pain eased again. Kyros has lost his brotherhood, his place and purpose in the world. He was still not fully healed from his injuries from attacking the circus. He had a place to stay with Thrasius and Lais, but he did not feel comfortable possibly leading the Creed to their door when they had been nothing but kind to him these past weeks. He could flee Taengea altogether. But he had not enough coin to secure safe passage to Colchis or Athenia. And he was doubtful of Fotios' claim of being able to protect him from the Creed. But perhaps he could use Fotios to aid his own needs... and taking out a few of the royal house would make remaining here as a hunted man bit more... pleasant.
He brought his gaze back to the Head of House Leventi. "I'll not do your dirty work for free, regardless how enjoyable the work may be." He smirked darkly for a brief moment. "I will require coin, and shelter if I am to remain in Taengea for any length of time. Though I am curious as to how you plan to to turn the Creed's eyes from me?" He knew it was not likely Fotios Leventi would give that bit of information up, but he had to try.
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The Shadow Walker was most certainly feeling like the world was spinning before him. He suddenly had no family, no security. Nothing. He already owed Thrasius for saving his life after he'd been injured at the attack on the chariot races. And now... did he seriously owe his life yet again? And to a damned royal? No. No this was all a terrible nightmare and he would wake up. He had to wake up. The Leventi's words brought his thoughts back to the situation before him. For as much as he wanted to deny recent events... he could not. His life depended on him facing what was being dealt him. A life I should have given to the cause.
'I have no intention of us being allies, Kyros, fear not.'
Then we are of like mind, in that at least, the man thought to himself. AS far as any other subject, Kyros was certain they would be at odds. But as Fotios further explained his motivations behind this meeting, the reason the noble had saved him from being over powered and killed by a brother... Kyros narrowed his grey gaze and tilted his head slightly to the left as he regarded the man before him.
'I can give you half the job you were trained to do in exchange for ensuring that your old brothers-in-arms leave you to your life unmasked...?'
The Leventi had designs on certain members of his own extended family. He wanted to use the alienated Drowned One as a tool to take these people down. Kyros' curiosity was piqued to say the least. Of course it wasn't unheard of for members of the royal family to get tired of a certain regime and seek to eliminate those in line ahead of them in succession of the crown. Kyros pulled in enough air to inflate his lungs completely, his chest lifting visibly - though when he let it out he winced from the pain of the breath and lifted his chin to look towards the ceiling until the pain eased again. Kyros has lost his brotherhood, his place and purpose in the world. He was still not fully healed from his injuries from attacking the circus. He had a place to stay with Thrasius and Lais, but he did not feel comfortable possibly leading the Creed to their door when they had been nothing but kind to him these past weeks. He could flee Taengea altogether. But he had not enough coin to secure safe passage to Colchis or Athenia. And he was doubtful of Fotios' claim of being able to protect him from the Creed. But perhaps he could use Fotios to aid his own needs... and taking out a few of the royal house would make remaining here as a hunted man bit more... pleasant.
He brought his gaze back to the Head of House Leventi. "I'll not do your dirty work for free, regardless how enjoyable the work may be." He smirked darkly for a brief moment. "I will require coin, and shelter if I am to remain in Taengea for any length of time. Though I am curious as to how you plan to to turn the Creed's eyes from me?" He knew it was not likely Fotios Leventi would give that bit of information up, but he had to try.
The Shadow Walker was most certainly feeling like the world was spinning before him. He suddenly had no family, no security. Nothing. He already owed Thrasius for saving his life after he'd been injured at the attack on the chariot races. And now... did he seriously owe his life yet again? And to a damned royal? No. No this was all a terrible nightmare and he would wake up. He had to wake up. The Leventi's words brought his thoughts back to the situation before him. For as much as he wanted to deny recent events... he could not. His life depended on him facing what was being dealt him. A life I should have given to the cause.
'I have no intention of us being allies, Kyros, fear not.'
Then we are of like mind, in that at least, the man thought to himself. AS far as any other subject, Kyros was certain they would be at odds. But as Fotios further explained his motivations behind this meeting, the reason the noble had saved him from being over powered and killed by a brother... Kyros narrowed his grey gaze and tilted his head slightly to the left as he regarded the man before him.
'I can give you half the job you were trained to do in exchange for ensuring that your old brothers-in-arms leave you to your life unmasked...?'
The Leventi had designs on certain members of his own extended family. He wanted to use the alienated Drowned One as a tool to take these people down. Kyros' curiosity was piqued to say the least. Of course it wasn't unheard of for members of the royal family to get tired of a certain regime and seek to eliminate those in line ahead of them in succession of the crown. Kyros pulled in enough air to inflate his lungs completely, his chest lifting visibly - though when he let it out he winced from the pain of the breath and lifted his chin to look towards the ceiling until the pain eased again. Kyros has lost his brotherhood, his place and purpose in the world. He was still not fully healed from his injuries from attacking the circus. He had a place to stay with Thrasius and Lais, but he did not feel comfortable possibly leading the Creed to their door when they had been nothing but kind to him these past weeks. He could flee Taengea altogether. But he had not enough coin to secure safe passage to Colchis or Athenia. And he was doubtful of Fotios' claim of being able to protect him from the Creed. But perhaps he could use Fotios to aid his own needs... and taking out a few of the royal house would make remaining here as a hunted man bit more... pleasant.
He brought his gaze back to the Head of House Leventi. "I'll not do your dirty work for free, regardless how enjoyable the work may be." He smirked darkly for a brief moment. "I will require coin, and shelter if I am to remain in Taengea for any length of time. Though I am curious as to how you plan to to turn the Creed's eyes from me?" He knew it was not likely Fotios Leventi would give that bit of information up, but he had to try.
Fotios watched as the man considered his options. It was clear that he was in physical pain which meant that his choices were more likely to be quick and decisive. Humans in pain wanted the pain to stop so they were quick to action. Whether that action had a direct bearing on healing the wound, it didn't matter. It was just human nature. And when the man considered his options, he would find more pain to escape. The pain of losing a place and family, the pain of having no purpose or design upon the world. He didn't seem to care or consider where he came from before his time with the Creed, which suggested to Fotios that the man had been brought into the fold at a young age - not likely to know, remember or care about the normal life that had been taken from him. Instead, he seemed entirely focused on the lack of the Creed. On the lack of what he had learnt to call his home.
Despite him hardly being in a position to negotiate, the man came back to the lord with his demands for some form of residence and a salary to go with his services. Whilst Fotios had all the power in the world to deny such things and insist that the threat of death by the hands of his old brethren should be more than enough compensation for his work, he only nodded and offered an agreement:
"But, of course." As if he had always been willing to set down such offerings himself.
Whilst he might not need to give him to this demand, an angry mercenary in your care was a vulnerability that Fotios was not willing to take. Not when he had enough gold to pay for a thousand of this man without a serious dent to his wealth. It was not a trifle that was worth arguing over.
Then the man known as Kyros asked how he was to keep the Creed away from him. Fotios was quick to shake his head slowly.
"That is privileged information that I am not willing to share. But, suffice it to say that I have... connections." He looked upon the man with a meaningful stare. "How do you think it was possible for the Creed to enter Taengea undetected, let alone into the very royal palati?"
He let that idea sit with the man for a moment before turning to his other concerns. Fotios leaned forwards, his forearms coming to the table top, his shoulders hunching forwards a little with the intensity of his stare and his hands loosely linked upon the surface of the desk.
"This I shall, however, make clear, Kyros..." He stated, with care. "I pay you and you are set to perform the duties that I establish and no others. If you are in my employ then you are mine to command. If ever I have deaths to administer to my peerage, you shall be the first on whom I call, but I shall not call for such things often. I need a man able to be flexible in his offerings - messaging, spying, threatening. You will rarely have the chance to outright kill any of my fellow nobles."
Fotios leant back in his chair, steepling his fingers, once more and watched him to see how his next words would be absorbed.
"Your Creed are a skilled bunch but they are short-sighted. You think that by killing those who hold royal blood you somehow alter the system, make Taengea a fairer place. Yet the death of a royal only sees to their replacement with another. And regardless of how skilled you are as a unit, I hardly think that you can murder all those of royal and noble connection faster than those same can breed a new generation. You are on to a losing path of much bloodshed and little victory..." Fotios shook his head. "I intend to work differently. By killing a man, you place him as a martyr and strengthen those around him. You ensure a stronger player takes his place upon the board. I have no desire to kill or remove people from the seat that they hold. I intend to dismantle the power that the seat itself perpetuates." His eyes flashed dangerously.
"Hold leverage over those that should command authority, sway them, befriend them, blackmail them. Whatever tool works to the best of an advantage and now you hold the power that should be theirs. They hold nothing. Still breathing, they cannot be replaced but as they live, they can do nothing of import or significance. They exist but cannot live. That is the way to truly kill one of royal birth."
"Deaths cause attention, no matter how well they are shrouded in suicide or accident. I shall not have that attention fall upon my own orchestrations." Fotios' head tilted a little in question. "I should know that those terms are acceptable to you before I ensure the meeting of your demands..."
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Fotios watched as the man considered his options. It was clear that he was in physical pain which meant that his choices were more likely to be quick and decisive. Humans in pain wanted the pain to stop so they were quick to action. Whether that action had a direct bearing on healing the wound, it didn't matter. It was just human nature. And when the man considered his options, he would find more pain to escape. The pain of losing a place and family, the pain of having no purpose or design upon the world. He didn't seem to care or consider where he came from before his time with the Creed, which suggested to Fotios that the man had been brought into the fold at a young age - not likely to know, remember or care about the normal life that had been taken from him. Instead, he seemed entirely focused on the lack of the Creed. On the lack of what he had learnt to call his home.
Despite him hardly being in a position to negotiate, the man came back to the lord with his demands for some form of residence and a salary to go with his services. Whilst Fotios had all the power in the world to deny such things and insist that the threat of death by the hands of his old brethren should be more than enough compensation for his work, he only nodded and offered an agreement:
"But, of course." As if he had always been willing to set down such offerings himself.
Whilst he might not need to give him to this demand, an angry mercenary in your care was a vulnerability that Fotios was not willing to take. Not when he had enough gold to pay for a thousand of this man without a serious dent to his wealth. It was not a trifle that was worth arguing over.
Then the man known as Kyros asked how he was to keep the Creed away from him. Fotios was quick to shake his head slowly.
"That is privileged information that I am not willing to share. But, suffice it to say that I have... connections." He looked upon the man with a meaningful stare. "How do you think it was possible for the Creed to enter Taengea undetected, let alone into the very royal palati?"
He let that idea sit with the man for a moment before turning to his other concerns. Fotios leaned forwards, his forearms coming to the table top, his shoulders hunching forwards a little with the intensity of his stare and his hands loosely linked upon the surface of the desk.
"This I shall, however, make clear, Kyros..." He stated, with care. "I pay you and you are set to perform the duties that I establish and no others. If you are in my employ then you are mine to command. If ever I have deaths to administer to my peerage, you shall be the first on whom I call, but I shall not call for such things often. I need a man able to be flexible in his offerings - messaging, spying, threatening. You will rarely have the chance to outright kill any of my fellow nobles."
Fotios leant back in his chair, steepling his fingers, once more and watched him to see how his next words would be absorbed.
"Your Creed are a skilled bunch but they are short-sighted. You think that by killing those who hold royal blood you somehow alter the system, make Taengea a fairer place. Yet the death of a royal only sees to their replacement with another. And regardless of how skilled you are as a unit, I hardly think that you can murder all those of royal and noble connection faster than those same can breed a new generation. You are on to a losing path of much bloodshed and little victory..." Fotios shook his head. "I intend to work differently. By killing a man, you place him as a martyr and strengthen those around him. You ensure a stronger player takes his place upon the board. I have no desire to kill or remove people from the seat that they hold. I intend to dismantle the power that the seat itself perpetuates." His eyes flashed dangerously.
"Hold leverage over those that should command authority, sway them, befriend them, blackmail them. Whatever tool works to the best of an advantage and now you hold the power that should be theirs. They hold nothing. Still breathing, they cannot be replaced but as they live, they can do nothing of import or significance. They exist but cannot live. That is the way to truly kill one of royal birth."
"Deaths cause attention, no matter how well they are shrouded in suicide or accident. I shall not have that attention fall upon my own orchestrations." Fotios' head tilted a little in question. "I should know that those terms are acceptable to you before I ensure the meeting of your demands..."
Fotios watched as the man considered his options. It was clear that he was in physical pain which meant that his choices were more likely to be quick and decisive. Humans in pain wanted the pain to stop so they were quick to action. Whether that action had a direct bearing on healing the wound, it didn't matter. It was just human nature. And when the man considered his options, he would find more pain to escape. The pain of losing a place and family, the pain of having no purpose or design upon the world. He didn't seem to care or consider where he came from before his time with the Creed, which suggested to Fotios that the man had been brought into the fold at a young age - not likely to know, remember or care about the normal life that had been taken from him. Instead, he seemed entirely focused on the lack of the Creed. On the lack of what he had learnt to call his home.
Despite him hardly being in a position to negotiate, the man came back to the lord with his demands for some form of residence and a salary to go with his services. Whilst Fotios had all the power in the world to deny such things and insist that the threat of death by the hands of his old brethren should be more than enough compensation for his work, he only nodded and offered an agreement:
"But, of course." As if he had always been willing to set down such offerings himself.
Whilst he might not need to give him to this demand, an angry mercenary in your care was a vulnerability that Fotios was not willing to take. Not when he had enough gold to pay for a thousand of this man without a serious dent to his wealth. It was not a trifle that was worth arguing over.
Then the man known as Kyros asked how he was to keep the Creed away from him. Fotios was quick to shake his head slowly.
"That is privileged information that I am not willing to share. But, suffice it to say that I have... connections." He looked upon the man with a meaningful stare. "How do you think it was possible for the Creed to enter Taengea undetected, let alone into the very royal palati?"
He let that idea sit with the man for a moment before turning to his other concerns. Fotios leaned forwards, his forearms coming to the table top, his shoulders hunching forwards a little with the intensity of his stare and his hands loosely linked upon the surface of the desk.
"This I shall, however, make clear, Kyros..." He stated, with care. "I pay you and you are set to perform the duties that I establish and no others. If you are in my employ then you are mine to command. If ever I have deaths to administer to my peerage, you shall be the first on whom I call, but I shall not call for such things often. I need a man able to be flexible in his offerings - messaging, spying, threatening. You will rarely have the chance to outright kill any of my fellow nobles."
Fotios leant back in his chair, steepling his fingers, once more and watched him to see how his next words would be absorbed.
"Your Creed are a skilled bunch but they are short-sighted. You think that by killing those who hold royal blood you somehow alter the system, make Taengea a fairer place. Yet the death of a royal only sees to their replacement with another. And regardless of how skilled you are as a unit, I hardly think that you can murder all those of royal and noble connection faster than those same can breed a new generation. You are on to a losing path of much bloodshed and little victory..." Fotios shook his head. "I intend to work differently. By killing a man, you place him as a martyr and strengthen those around him. You ensure a stronger player takes his place upon the board. I have no desire to kill or remove people from the seat that they hold. I intend to dismantle the power that the seat itself perpetuates." His eyes flashed dangerously.
"Hold leverage over those that should command authority, sway them, befriend them, blackmail them. Whatever tool works to the best of an advantage and now you hold the power that should be theirs. They hold nothing. Still breathing, they cannot be replaced but as they live, they can do nothing of import or significance. They exist but cannot live. That is the way to truly kill one of royal birth."
"Deaths cause attention, no matter how well they are shrouded in suicide or accident. I shall not have that attention fall upon my own orchestrations." Fotios' head tilted a little in question. "I should know that those terms are acceptable to you before I ensure the meeting of your demands..."
Connections... within the Creed itself? How in Hades would one of the very nobles the secretive group hated have connections within the brotherhood? Kyros had no time to ponder this perplexing possibility, however, as the Leventi lord began laying out the conditions of his generous offer.
'...If you are in my employ, then you are mine to command...'
Kyros narrowed his eyes dangerously, but he made no move - not to speak, not to leave, not to attack. He sat there, still as stone, mentally weighing what he knew against what he now suspected. Weighing his best course of survival. It was an instinct he'd never been able to rid himself of. It'd led to many punishments for disobedience over the years. And now it'd cost him his family.
'...I need a man able to be flexible in his offerings - messaging, spying, threatening. You will rarely have the chance to outright kill any of my fellow nobles.'
In other words, Kyros would be an errand boy for this noble who thought he was better than himself. His jaw clenched, his gaze hardened even more, but he offered no other reaction.
'Your Creed are a skilled bunch, but they are short-sighted. You think that by killing those who hold royal blood you somehow alter the system, make Taengea a fairer place. Yet the death of a royal only sees to their replacement with another...'
This was true enough. There was always another of the filthy royals to fill the void. For the first time ini many minutes, Kyros moved - a simple tilt of his head to the side, his gaze not quite as filled with loathing as he listened to the man's words. Words so different than the strict teachings of the Creed.
'...I intend to dismantle the power that the seat itself perpetuates.'
The shadow walker did not miss the look in Fotios' eyes. This man was calculating, manipulative. He was manipulating Kyros - he was not unaware of this. But what choice did he really have? He was not yet healed enough for a journey across the seas. He wouldn't get very far on horseback, not on an island. The Creed would surely catch up to him and end him. It was clear to him now that the Shade would not welcome him back into the fold. At least - if the Leventi was not lying, which was a possibility - Fotios offered a bit of protection. And a way to continue the work Kyros had been trained for his entire life.
'I should know that those terms are acceptable to you before I ensure the meeting of your demands...'
Now was the time for Kyros to make a decision. Walk out of here and forefeit his life, for it would just be a matter of time before the Creed sent another assassin. Or accept the even likely meager protection this one offered, and be commanded at the whimsy of a noble he despised. Kyros let out a slow breath, digesting everything the man had said. All of it, every bit of it, had rocked the very core of what he believed to be trued and right. He wished there was more time to think things through, to find other options. But there wasn't. He knew instinctively that Fotios Leventi would not allow that.
The new mercenary nodded once. "Fine. Make the arrangements, my lord," he said through clenched teeth. Trade one master for another, right?
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Connections... within the Creed itself? How in Hades would one of the very nobles the secretive group hated have connections within the brotherhood? Kyros had no time to ponder this perplexing possibility, however, as the Leventi lord began laying out the conditions of his generous offer.
'...If you are in my employ, then you are mine to command...'
Kyros narrowed his eyes dangerously, but he made no move - not to speak, not to leave, not to attack. He sat there, still as stone, mentally weighing what he knew against what he now suspected. Weighing his best course of survival. It was an instinct he'd never been able to rid himself of. It'd led to many punishments for disobedience over the years. And now it'd cost him his family.
'...I need a man able to be flexible in his offerings - messaging, spying, threatening. You will rarely have the chance to outright kill any of my fellow nobles.'
In other words, Kyros would be an errand boy for this noble who thought he was better than himself. His jaw clenched, his gaze hardened even more, but he offered no other reaction.
'Your Creed are a skilled bunch, but they are short-sighted. You think that by killing those who hold royal blood you somehow alter the system, make Taengea a fairer place. Yet the death of a royal only sees to their replacement with another...'
This was true enough. There was always another of the filthy royals to fill the void. For the first time ini many minutes, Kyros moved - a simple tilt of his head to the side, his gaze not quite as filled with loathing as he listened to the man's words. Words so different than the strict teachings of the Creed.
'...I intend to dismantle the power that the seat itself perpetuates.'
The shadow walker did not miss the look in Fotios' eyes. This man was calculating, manipulative. He was manipulating Kyros - he was not unaware of this. But what choice did he really have? He was not yet healed enough for a journey across the seas. He wouldn't get very far on horseback, not on an island. The Creed would surely catch up to him and end him. It was clear to him now that the Shade would not welcome him back into the fold. At least - if the Leventi was not lying, which was a possibility - Fotios offered a bit of protection. And a way to continue the work Kyros had been trained for his entire life.
'I should know that those terms are acceptable to you before I ensure the meeting of your demands...'
Now was the time for Kyros to make a decision. Walk out of here and forefeit his life, for it would just be a matter of time before the Creed sent another assassin. Or accept the even likely meager protection this one offered, and be commanded at the whimsy of a noble he despised. Kyros let out a slow breath, digesting everything the man had said. All of it, every bit of it, had rocked the very core of what he believed to be trued and right. He wished there was more time to think things through, to find other options. But there wasn't. He knew instinctively that Fotios Leventi would not allow that.
The new mercenary nodded once. "Fine. Make the arrangements, my lord," he said through clenched teeth. Trade one master for another, right?
Connections... within the Creed itself? How in Hades would one of the very nobles the secretive group hated have connections within the brotherhood? Kyros had no time to ponder this perplexing possibility, however, as the Leventi lord began laying out the conditions of his generous offer.
'...If you are in my employ, then you are mine to command...'
Kyros narrowed his eyes dangerously, but he made no move - not to speak, not to leave, not to attack. He sat there, still as stone, mentally weighing what he knew against what he now suspected. Weighing his best course of survival. It was an instinct he'd never been able to rid himself of. It'd led to many punishments for disobedience over the years. And now it'd cost him his family.
'...I need a man able to be flexible in his offerings - messaging, spying, threatening. You will rarely have the chance to outright kill any of my fellow nobles.'
In other words, Kyros would be an errand boy for this noble who thought he was better than himself. His jaw clenched, his gaze hardened even more, but he offered no other reaction.
'Your Creed are a skilled bunch, but they are short-sighted. You think that by killing those who hold royal blood you somehow alter the system, make Taengea a fairer place. Yet the death of a royal only sees to their replacement with another...'
This was true enough. There was always another of the filthy royals to fill the void. For the first time ini many minutes, Kyros moved - a simple tilt of his head to the side, his gaze not quite as filled with loathing as he listened to the man's words. Words so different than the strict teachings of the Creed.
'...I intend to dismantle the power that the seat itself perpetuates.'
The shadow walker did not miss the look in Fotios' eyes. This man was calculating, manipulative. He was manipulating Kyros - he was not unaware of this. But what choice did he really have? He was not yet healed enough for a journey across the seas. He wouldn't get very far on horseback, not on an island. The Creed would surely catch up to him and end him. It was clear to him now that the Shade would not welcome him back into the fold. At least - if the Leventi was not lying, which was a possibility - Fotios offered a bit of protection. And a way to continue the work Kyros had been trained for his entire life.
'I should know that those terms are acceptable to you before I ensure the meeting of your demands...'
Now was the time for Kyros to make a decision. Walk out of here and forefeit his life, for it would just be a matter of time before the Creed sent another assassin. Or accept the even likely meager protection this one offered, and be commanded at the whimsy of a noble he despised. Kyros let out a slow breath, digesting everything the man had said. All of it, every bit of it, had rocked the very core of what he believed to be trued and right. He wished there was more time to think things through, to find other options. But there wasn't. He knew instinctively that Fotios Leventi would not allow that.
The new mercenary nodded once. "Fine. Make the arrangements, my lord," he said through clenched teeth. Trade one master for another, right?
Fotios watched as the man made his choice. Despite the boy having lived his life in the shroud of a secret cult, his emotions flashed upon his eyes as he pondered his options. Not unsurprising when the Creed would normally wear wrappings over their features. Where, after all, was then the need to train your expressions into calm serenity? There was no need to train a handle upon your expressions when no-one could see them.
That being said, Kyros was clever at keeping most of his thoughts behind locked doors. Before most, he would likely get away with it. Before Fotios... he was like a book able to be read. At least in a high-pressure scenario such as this.
For the boy had few options and limited means of escape.
Did he reject the Leventi lord's proposal, and be cut down where he stood? Did he manage to escape from the clutches of the Head of House only to be trailed and chased by the shadow walkers that he had once called brothers? Did he agree and then betray the man that offered him coin and shelter? It was a decision without merit. The only way for the man to survive was to accept Fotios' offer. Which was precisely why Fotios had orchestrated it so that the Creed knew exactly where to find him, and arranged his guardsmen to be just a step behind said assassin.
Fotios of Leventi did not go into deals where he had not predetermined their outcome.
When the man finally caved, his acceptance was short and clipped and sparked with a sarcastic lilt of disrespect. Fotios ignored the attitude, for he was a man of power that didn't need the pleasantries of his subordinates - just their obedience - and reacted as if the man had accepted his offer of employ with all the eagerness of a newfound talent.
"I'm glad to hear it." Fotios simply stated. He rose from the chair that stood behind the desk, and fastened the belt and short sword that had been hanging on the spine of the chair back around his waist. He seemed in no great interest to linger, his work down and his plans now at fruition. Instead, he simply gestured to the little bed chamber in which they had been sat.
"The room has been paid for the next month. Complete the tasks I send to you and the landlord will receive payment for the next." His prearrangement spoke volumes of Fotios's determination to win every argument he ever orchestrated. He dropped a small leather pouch onto the tabletop. There was the light jingle of a small handful bronze coins nestled beside a few silvers. It would see him fed for the next thirty days at least. "Your salary is paid in advance. And if you rebuke my instructions at any point and offer me no return on my investment, I shall see equal value taken from your hide."
And, with that settled, Fotios of Leventi left the room and the tavern without a backwards glance.
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Fotios watched as the man made his choice. Despite the boy having lived his life in the shroud of a secret cult, his emotions flashed upon his eyes as he pondered his options. Not unsurprising when the Creed would normally wear wrappings over their features. Where, after all, was then the need to train your expressions into calm serenity? There was no need to train a handle upon your expressions when no-one could see them.
That being said, Kyros was clever at keeping most of his thoughts behind locked doors. Before most, he would likely get away with it. Before Fotios... he was like a book able to be read. At least in a high-pressure scenario such as this.
For the boy had few options and limited means of escape.
Did he reject the Leventi lord's proposal, and be cut down where he stood? Did he manage to escape from the clutches of the Head of House only to be trailed and chased by the shadow walkers that he had once called brothers? Did he agree and then betray the man that offered him coin and shelter? It was a decision without merit. The only way for the man to survive was to accept Fotios' offer. Which was precisely why Fotios had orchestrated it so that the Creed knew exactly where to find him, and arranged his guardsmen to be just a step behind said assassin.
Fotios of Leventi did not go into deals where he had not predetermined their outcome.
When the man finally caved, his acceptance was short and clipped and sparked with a sarcastic lilt of disrespect. Fotios ignored the attitude, for he was a man of power that didn't need the pleasantries of his subordinates - just their obedience - and reacted as if the man had accepted his offer of employ with all the eagerness of a newfound talent.
"I'm glad to hear it." Fotios simply stated. He rose from the chair that stood behind the desk, and fastened the belt and short sword that had been hanging on the spine of the chair back around his waist. He seemed in no great interest to linger, his work down and his plans now at fruition. Instead, he simply gestured to the little bed chamber in which they had been sat.
"The room has been paid for the next month. Complete the tasks I send to you and the landlord will receive payment for the next." His prearrangement spoke volumes of Fotios's determination to win every argument he ever orchestrated. He dropped a small leather pouch onto the tabletop. There was the light jingle of a small handful bronze coins nestled beside a few silvers. It would see him fed for the next thirty days at least. "Your salary is paid in advance. And if you rebuke my instructions at any point and offer me no return on my investment, I shall see equal value taken from your hide."
And, with that settled, Fotios of Leventi left the room and the tavern without a backwards glance.
Fotios watched as the man made his choice. Despite the boy having lived his life in the shroud of a secret cult, his emotions flashed upon his eyes as he pondered his options. Not unsurprising when the Creed would normally wear wrappings over their features. Where, after all, was then the need to train your expressions into calm serenity? There was no need to train a handle upon your expressions when no-one could see them.
That being said, Kyros was clever at keeping most of his thoughts behind locked doors. Before most, he would likely get away with it. Before Fotios... he was like a book able to be read. At least in a high-pressure scenario such as this.
For the boy had few options and limited means of escape.
Did he reject the Leventi lord's proposal, and be cut down where he stood? Did he manage to escape from the clutches of the Head of House only to be trailed and chased by the shadow walkers that he had once called brothers? Did he agree and then betray the man that offered him coin and shelter? It was a decision without merit. The only way for the man to survive was to accept Fotios' offer. Which was precisely why Fotios had orchestrated it so that the Creed knew exactly where to find him, and arranged his guardsmen to be just a step behind said assassin.
Fotios of Leventi did not go into deals where he had not predetermined their outcome.
When the man finally caved, his acceptance was short and clipped and sparked with a sarcastic lilt of disrespect. Fotios ignored the attitude, for he was a man of power that didn't need the pleasantries of his subordinates - just their obedience - and reacted as if the man had accepted his offer of employ with all the eagerness of a newfound talent.
"I'm glad to hear it." Fotios simply stated. He rose from the chair that stood behind the desk, and fastened the belt and short sword that had been hanging on the spine of the chair back around his waist. He seemed in no great interest to linger, his work down and his plans now at fruition. Instead, he simply gestured to the little bed chamber in which they had been sat.
"The room has been paid for the next month. Complete the tasks I send to you and the landlord will receive payment for the next." His prearrangement spoke volumes of Fotios's determination to win every argument he ever orchestrated. He dropped a small leather pouch onto the tabletop. There was the light jingle of a small handful bronze coins nestled beside a few silvers. It would see him fed for the next thirty days at least. "Your salary is paid in advance. And if you rebuke my instructions at any point and offer me no return on my investment, I shall see equal value taken from your hide."
And, with that settled, Fotios of Leventi left the room and the tavern without a backwards glance.
Fotios seemed to readily accept his agreement to the arrangement. The Taengean lord stood, replacing his belt around his waist. Kyros watched him, but made no move to stand. In truth, he wasn't entirely sure he could in that moment. He was physically injured - the fight with his brethren had taken much out of his still healing body - and his mind was still reeling at the recent events. In a matter of hours, his entire world had been turn inside out and upside down.
A purse of coins jangled as it was dropped onto the table before him. Kyros looked at it then to the Leventi lord. He'd planned this. The clever lord had planned it all. Had cornered Kyros into accepting this... job. Kyros felt the need to run, to fight, to... he wasn't sure what. It would obviously do no good. If he walked away from this it would just be a matter of time before either the Creed or Fotios' lackeys caught up to him. And in his current state, the assassin would never be able to fight off multiple assailants. So instead of fighting or running, Kyros simply gave a single curt nod, his jaw set with his frustration.
The shadow walker stayed in his seat until his new master and his guards left the room. His room. At last Kyros reached for the bag of coins. Mostly copper, a few silver. But if he used it sparingly, it'd allow him live for weeks on that amount. He let out a slow shallow breath and looked to the bed in the corner of the room. Leaving the bag of money on the table, Kyros made his way to the small bed and eased himself down atop the covers. His ribs ached, the cut on his arm was throbbing. His head was spinning with everything that had transpired that day. He stared at the ceiling until exhaustion overtook him. He drifted into the darkness of sleep, where he was haunted by the same vague images that had always filled his dreams, by the sounds of a song he'd never heard. Dreams that he'd never been able to make sense of.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Fotios seemed to readily accept his agreement to the arrangement. The Taengean lord stood, replacing his belt around his waist. Kyros watched him, but made no move to stand. In truth, he wasn't entirely sure he could in that moment. He was physically injured - the fight with his brethren had taken much out of his still healing body - and his mind was still reeling at the recent events. In a matter of hours, his entire world had been turn inside out and upside down.
A purse of coins jangled as it was dropped onto the table before him. Kyros looked at it then to the Leventi lord. He'd planned this. The clever lord had planned it all. Had cornered Kyros into accepting this... job. Kyros felt the need to run, to fight, to... he wasn't sure what. It would obviously do no good. If he walked away from this it would just be a matter of time before either the Creed or Fotios' lackeys caught up to him. And in his current state, the assassin would never be able to fight off multiple assailants. So instead of fighting or running, Kyros simply gave a single curt nod, his jaw set with his frustration.
The shadow walker stayed in his seat until his new master and his guards left the room. His room. At last Kyros reached for the bag of coins. Mostly copper, a few silver. But if he used it sparingly, it'd allow him live for weeks on that amount. He let out a slow shallow breath and looked to the bed in the corner of the room. Leaving the bag of money on the table, Kyros made his way to the small bed and eased himself down atop the covers. His ribs ached, the cut on his arm was throbbing. His head was spinning with everything that had transpired that day. He stared at the ceiling until exhaustion overtook him. He drifted into the darkness of sleep, where he was haunted by the same vague images that had always filled his dreams, by the sounds of a song he'd never heard. Dreams that he'd never been able to make sense of.
Fotios seemed to readily accept his agreement to the arrangement. The Taengean lord stood, replacing his belt around his waist. Kyros watched him, but made no move to stand. In truth, he wasn't entirely sure he could in that moment. He was physically injured - the fight with his brethren had taken much out of his still healing body - and his mind was still reeling at the recent events. In a matter of hours, his entire world had been turn inside out and upside down.
A purse of coins jangled as it was dropped onto the table before him. Kyros looked at it then to the Leventi lord. He'd planned this. The clever lord had planned it all. Had cornered Kyros into accepting this... job. Kyros felt the need to run, to fight, to... he wasn't sure what. It would obviously do no good. If he walked away from this it would just be a matter of time before either the Creed or Fotios' lackeys caught up to him. And in his current state, the assassin would never be able to fight off multiple assailants. So instead of fighting or running, Kyros simply gave a single curt nod, his jaw set with his frustration.
The shadow walker stayed in his seat until his new master and his guards left the room. His room. At last Kyros reached for the bag of coins. Mostly copper, a few silver. But if he used it sparingly, it'd allow him live for weeks on that amount. He let out a slow shallow breath and looked to the bed in the corner of the room. Leaving the bag of money on the table, Kyros made his way to the small bed and eased himself down atop the covers. His ribs ached, the cut on his arm was throbbing. His head was spinning with everything that had transpired that day. He stared at the ceiling until exhaustion overtook him. He drifted into the darkness of sleep, where he was haunted by the same vague images that had always filled his dreams, by the sounds of a song he'd never heard. Dreams that he'd never been able to make sense of.