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Stephanos held the last of the goat kids in his arms and gently placed the adorable little creature on the floor. Why he’d been so gentle with them, he didn’t know because the second he let go, the goat made a wild “BLAAAAAAAAH," clicked its little hooves, and leaped around like it hadn’t a brain in its tiny body. This was only one of fifteen, all of whom were prancing and kicking and bleating around Achilleas’s room. One of the little rascals headbutted Stephanos in the calf and he had to watch his step as he narrowly avoided a second attack.
“Hey,” he chided, picking up the offended little billy goat and tapping it on its quivering pink nose with his finger. The goat’s sideways slitted eyes blinked and he might have found it precious if they weren’t so incredibly creepy. The goat let out a random “BLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” so loudly and suddenly that Stephanos nearly dropped him and set him down quickly.
“Yeesh,” he glared at the goat but it scampered away, ramming into other little kids who got bowled over. Little hooved legs flailed in the air and Stephanos bend down to help right several of them, only to be knocked into a third time by the same goat. “Keep it up,” he warned. “I’m in the mood for a gyro with goat meat.” The little goat did not understand either greek or what a gyro meat was. Nor did he know Stephanos was perfectly serious. He butted his tiny head against Stephanos’s calf again and Stephanos swiped him back up into his arms.
“That’s it,” he held the little goat with its belly up. The kid did not like this and wailed loudly but Stephanos had a plan for this one. He looked around Achilleas’s room and found an urn just big enough to put this little one into. Unfortunately, there wasn’t a lid but that wasn’t anything a book and a heavy statue wouldn’t fix. “BLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH” wailed in an eternal echo inside the urn and was blessedly muffled once Stephanos slid the book into place and sealed the matter with a bronze idol of Poseidon on top of it. Little clinks and wails continued as Stephanos carried the urn to Achilleas’s bed and placed it in the center. It’d be like an explosive present to open.
Wherever Stephanos looked, there were baby goats. One was chewing the end of Achilleas’s sheets, another was on top of the desk, bleating. Another was curled up in a corner, asleep. Still more were bouncing around, trying to figure out ways to get higher and higher so that they could scream at each other from different vantage points.
”Your highness?” a soft voice came from the doorway where one of the house’s female servants eyed Stephanos. ”The steward says my lord is on his way…”
“Don’t let them out!” Stephanos picked his way to the door, his ankles in more danger than they’d ever been, and neatly sliding his body through the barely cracked open door. He kept one foot guarding the way the entire time as three baby goats wanted to follow after him and wailed pitifully when he shut the door. He turned to find the entirety of the house’s female staff, from the girls who scrubbed floors to the elderly housekeeper, staring adoringly at him. He grinned at them all and put a finger to his lips. “Not a word, ladies.”
He’d found that if he flirted? People did what he wanted them to. There wasn’t much more to it than that and so Stephanos bestowed a mischievous smile which was mirrored back to him and he hid in an adjoining room, flanked on either side by several servants who didn’t strictly need to be there but conspicuously didn’t need to be elsewhere, either. He crouched, fist against his mouth, trying not to laugh and listening hard for Achilleas.
The elderly housekeeper was closest to him and he could have sworn she was trying to sniff his hair...but he tried not to think about it. His eyes were trained on the slim crack in the door where he would be able to see Achilleas approach the door to his room.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
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Stephanos held the last of the goat kids in his arms and gently placed the adorable little creature on the floor. Why he’d been so gentle with them, he didn’t know because the second he let go, the goat made a wild “BLAAAAAAAAH," clicked its little hooves, and leaped around like it hadn’t a brain in its tiny body. This was only one of fifteen, all of whom were prancing and kicking and bleating around Achilleas’s room. One of the little rascals headbutted Stephanos in the calf and he had to watch his step as he narrowly avoided a second attack.
“Hey,” he chided, picking up the offended little billy goat and tapping it on its quivering pink nose with his finger. The goat’s sideways slitted eyes blinked and he might have found it precious if they weren’t so incredibly creepy. The goat let out a random “BLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” so loudly and suddenly that Stephanos nearly dropped him and set him down quickly.
“Yeesh,” he glared at the goat but it scampered away, ramming into other little kids who got bowled over. Little hooved legs flailed in the air and Stephanos bend down to help right several of them, only to be knocked into a third time by the same goat. “Keep it up,” he warned. “I’m in the mood for a gyro with goat meat.” The little goat did not understand either greek or what a gyro meat was. Nor did he know Stephanos was perfectly serious. He butted his tiny head against Stephanos’s calf again and Stephanos swiped him back up into his arms.
“That’s it,” he held the little goat with its belly up. The kid did not like this and wailed loudly but Stephanos had a plan for this one. He looked around Achilleas’s room and found an urn just big enough to put this little one into. Unfortunately, there wasn’t a lid but that wasn’t anything a book and a heavy statue wouldn’t fix. “BLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH” wailed in an eternal echo inside the urn and was blessedly muffled once Stephanos slid the book into place and sealed the matter with a bronze idol of Poseidon on top of it. Little clinks and wails continued as Stephanos carried the urn to Achilleas’s bed and placed it in the center. It’d be like an explosive present to open.
Wherever Stephanos looked, there were baby goats. One was chewing the end of Achilleas’s sheets, another was on top of the desk, bleating. Another was curled up in a corner, asleep. Still more were bouncing around, trying to figure out ways to get higher and higher so that they could scream at each other from different vantage points.
”Your highness?” a soft voice came from the doorway where one of the house’s female servants eyed Stephanos. ”The steward says my lord is on his way…”
“Don’t let them out!” Stephanos picked his way to the door, his ankles in more danger than they’d ever been, and neatly sliding his body through the barely cracked open door. He kept one foot guarding the way the entire time as three baby goats wanted to follow after him and wailed pitifully when he shut the door. He turned to find the entirety of the house’s female staff, from the girls who scrubbed floors to the elderly housekeeper, staring adoringly at him. He grinned at them all and put a finger to his lips. “Not a word, ladies.”
He’d found that if he flirted? People did what he wanted them to. There wasn’t much more to it than that and so Stephanos bestowed a mischievous smile which was mirrored back to him and he hid in an adjoining room, flanked on either side by several servants who didn’t strictly need to be there but conspicuously didn’t need to be elsewhere, either. He crouched, fist against his mouth, trying not to laugh and listening hard for Achilleas.
The elderly housekeeper was closest to him and he could have sworn she was trying to sniff his hair...but he tried not to think about it. His eyes were trained on the slim crack in the door where he would be able to see Achilleas approach the door to his room.
Stephanos held the last of the goat kids in his arms and gently placed the adorable little creature on the floor. Why he’d been so gentle with them, he didn’t know because the second he let go, the goat made a wild “BLAAAAAAAAH," clicked its little hooves, and leaped around like it hadn’t a brain in its tiny body. This was only one of fifteen, all of whom were prancing and kicking and bleating around Achilleas’s room. One of the little rascals headbutted Stephanos in the calf and he had to watch his step as he narrowly avoided a second attack.
“Hey,” he chided, picking up the offended little billy goat and tapping it on its quivering pink nose with his finger. The goat’s sideways slitted eyes blinked and he might have found it precious if they weren’t so incredibly creepy. The goat let out a random “BLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” so loudly and suddenly that Stephanos nearly dropped him and set him down quickly.
“Yeesh,” he glared at the goat but it scampered away, ramming into other little kids who got bowled over. Little hooved legs flailed in the air and Stephanos bend down to help right several of them, only to be knocked into a third time by the same goat. “Keep it up,” he warned. “I’m in the mood for a gyro with goat meat.” The little goat did not understand either greek or what a gyro meat was. Nor did he know Stephanos was perfectly serious. He butted his tiny head against Stephanos’s calf again and Stephanos swiped him back up into his arms.
“That’s it,” he held the little goat with its belly up. The kid did not like this and wailed loudly but Stephanos had a plan for this one. He looked around Achilleas’s room and found an urn just big enough to put this little one into. Unfortunately, there wasn’t a lid but that wasn’t anything a book and a heavy statue wouldn’t fix. “BLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH” wailed in an eternal echo inside the urn and was blessedly muffled once Stephanos slid the book into place and sealed the matter with a bronze idol of Poseidon on top of it. Little clinks and wails continued as Stephanos carried the urn to Achilleas’s bed and placed it in the center. It’d be like an explosive present to open.
Wherever Stephanos looked, there were baby goats. One was chewing the end of Achilleas’s sheets, another was on top of the desk, bleating. Another was curled up in a corner, asleep. Still more were bouncing around, trying to figure out ways to get higher and higher so that they could scream at each other from different vantage points.
”Your highness?” a soft voice came from the doorway where one of the house’s female servants eyed Stephanos. ”The steward says my lord is on his way…”
“Don’t let them out!” Stephanos picked his way to the door, his ankles in more danger than they’d ever been, and neatly sliding his body through the barely cracked open door. He kept one foot guarding the way the entire time as three baby goats wanted to follow after him and wailed pitifully when he shut the door. He turned to find the entirety of the house’s female staff, from the girls who scrubbed floors to the elderly housekeeper, staring adoringly at him. He grinned at them all and put a finger to his lips. “Not a word, ladies.”
He’d found that if he flirted? People did what he wanted them to. There wasn’t much more to it than that and so Stephanos bestowed a mischievous smile which was mirrored back to him and he hid in an adjoining room, flanked on either side by several servants who didn’t strictly need to be there but conspicuously didn’t need to be elsewhere, either. He crouched, fist against his mouth, trying not to laugh and listening hard for Achilleas.
The elderly housekeeper was closest to him and he could have sworn she was trying to sniff his hair...but he tried not to think about it. His eyes were trained on the slim crack in the door where he would be able to see Achilleas approach the door to his room.
It had been a dull day in the senate if Achilleas was being honest about it. But quite often, the baron would find that preferable to those where debates spilt into arguments and the speakers grew too fond of the sound of their voices. Now he was simply looking forward to answering the few missives that had been in Vasiliadon for him and taking advantage of the time he had to spend with Briseis before he rode back to Euttica come morning. Flipping through the letters that he’d collected from his study, he planned to change quickly before perhaps going to sit in the gardens and read through them. Perhaps a couple of glasses of wine, he might even forgo training in the morning.
Or probably not, even the thought made him uncomfortable.
Either way, it was to be a pleasant evening with few demands, and the Mikaelidas lord fully intended to make the most of it.
Blaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah
The noise, unexpected as it was, had Achilleas’ footsteps falter, because though he knew it to be an impossibility he could have sworn that the sound came from within the archontiko.
Blaah. Blah.Blaaaaaaaaaaah.
That was definitely inside, and if Achilleas wasn’t mistaken he thought it was a sheep. Or many sheep, which was ridiculous. Frowning, he tucked the missives under his arm and moved to go and set them down in his room so he might investigate what in Hades was going on. Only, as he was about to discover, the answer to that particular question was much closer than he might have thought.
There was nothing untoward about how the door to his rooms swung open, and the baron had put one foot inside before something small, warm and very alive collided with his shin and he looked up to what was the most bizarre sight he thought he might have ever seen. There were goats...baby goats, everywhere. Nibbling on the drapes in that billowed at the window, bouncing off the bed, the walls, everything. He stood there for a moment, frozen as he gazed at the chaos, face slack with disbelief.
It was all the opportunity that the kids needed for a flurry of them to bounce into the lord, past him and into the hallway, bleating merrily as they careened off the columns and potted plants, skittering all over everywhere. Achilleas staggered backwards a pace and gazed wide-eyed at the stampede. It was the crash as one such plant toppled over and spread earth over the polished marble floor that jarred him back into action, a muttered ‘Fuck’ from between his lips as he hastily stepped back and closed the door again, corralling the rest of the invaders within his room even as he stared non-plussed after the others. What in the name of all the Gods
He had so many questions and some less than complimentary suspicions, but between them and an agitated sense of disbelief was the pressing knowledge that there was now a handful of goat kids merrily bouncing their way around his father’s house. He didn’t know where the man was, but he did know he didn’t want to be associated with that disaster, and so it was in his interests to...fix it somehow. Where the fuck where all the staff?
“Erika!” he bellowed, summoning the housekeeper who ruled over the rest of the servants and usually ran the archontiko like clockwork. “Some assistance would be welcomed!”
The woman standing beside Stephanos visibly tensed, her hands going to twist in the apron she wore. Long a servant of the family, she knew the Lord Achilleas to be a kindly man for the most part, but he had a temper too upon occasion, and how would she explain away this? Shooting the Prince beside her a solemn look, the woman took a breath and moved to open the door that Stephanos had hidden behind. “If you will excuse me, your highness”.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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It had been a dull day in the senate if Achilleas was being honest about it. But quite often, the baron would find that preferable to those where debates spilt into arguments and the speakers grew too fond of the sound of their voices. Now he was simply looking forward to answering the few missives that had been in Vasiliadon for him and taking advantage of the time he had to spend with Briseis before he rode back to Euttica come morning. Flipping through the letters that he’d collected from his study, he planned to change quickly before perhaps going to sit in the gardens and read through them. Perhaps a couple of glasses of wine, he might even forgo training in the morning.
Or probably not, even the thought made him uncomfortable.
Either way, it was to be a pleasant evening with few demands, and the Mikaelidas lord fully intended to make the most of it.
Blaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah
The noise, unexpected as it was, had Achilleas’ footsteps falter, because though he knew it to be an impossibility he could have sworn that the sound came from within the archontiko.
Blaah. Blah.Blaaaaaaaaaaah.
That was definitely inside, and if Achilleas wasn’t mistaken he thought it was a sheep. Or many sheep, which was ridiculous. Frowning, he tucked the missives under his arm and moved to go and set them down in his room so he might investigate what in Hades was going on. Only, as he was about to discover, the answer to that particular question was much closer than he might have thought.
There was nothing untoward about how the door to his rooms swung open, and the baron had put one foot inside before something small, warm and very alive collided with his shin and he looked up to what was the most bizarre sight he thought he might have ever seen. There were goats...baby goats, everywhere. Nibbling on the drapes in that billowed at the window, bouncing off the bed, the walls, everything. He stood there for a moment, frozen as he gazed at the chaos, face slack with disbelief.
It was all the opportunity that the kids needed for a flurry of them to bounce into the lord, past him and into the hallway, bleating merrily as they careened off the columns and potted plants, skittering all over everywhere. Achilleas staggered backwards a pace and gazed wide-eyed at the stampede. It was the crash as one such plant toppled over and spread earth over the polished marble floor that jarred him back into action, a muttered ‘Fuck’ from between his lips as he hastily stepped back and closed the door again, corralling the rest of the invaders within his room even as he stared non-plussed after the others. What in the name of all the Gods
He had so many questions and some less than complimentary suspicions, but between them and an agitated sense of disbelief was the pressing knowledge that there was now a handful of goat kids merrily bouncing their way around his father’s house. He didn’t know where the man was, but he did know he didn’t want to be associated with that disaster, and so it was in his interests to...fix it somehow. Where the fuck where all the staff?
“Erika!” he bellowed, summoning the housekeeper who ruled over the rest of the servants and usually ran the archontiko like clockwork. “Some assistance would be welcomed!”
The woman standing beside Stephanos visibly tensed, her hands going to twist in the apron she wore. Long a servant of the family, she knew the Lord Achilleas to be a kindly man for the most part, but he had a temper too upon occasion, and how would she explain away this? Shooting the Prince beside her a solemn look, the woman took a breath and moved to open the door that Stephanos had hidden behind. “If you will excuse me, your highness”.
It had been a dull day in the senate if Achilleas was being honest about it. But quite often, the baron would find that preferable to those where debates spilt into arguments and the speakers grew too fond of the sound of their voices. Now he was simply looking forward to answering the few missives that had been in Vasiliadon for him and taking advantage of the time he had to spend with Briseis before he rode back to Euttica come morning. Flipping through the letters that he’d collected from his study, he planned to change quickly before perhaps going to sit in the gardens and read through them. Perhaps a couple of glasses of wine, he might even forgo training in the morning.
Or probably not, even the thought made him uncomfortable.
Either way, it was to be a pleasant evening with few demands, and the Mikaelidas lord fully intended to make the most of it.
Blaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah
The noise, unexpected as it was, had Achilleas’ footsteps falter, because though he knew it to be an impossibility he could have sworn that the sound came from within the archontiko.
Blaah. Blah.Blaaaaaaaaaaah.
That was definitely inside, and if Achilleas wasn’t mistaken he thought it was a sheep. Or many sheep, which was ridiculous. Frowning, he tucked the missives under his arm and moved to go and set them down in his room so he might investigate what in Hades was going on. Only, as he was about to discover, the answer to that particular question was much closer than he might have thought.
There was nothing untoward about how the door to his rooms swung open, and the baron had put one foot inside before something small, warm and very alive collided with his shin and he looked up to what was the most bizarre sight he thought he might have ever seen. There were goats...baby goats, everywhere. Nibbling on the drapes in that billowed at the window, bouncing off the bed, the walls, everything. He stood there for a moment, frozen as he gazed at the chaos, face slack with disbelief.
It was all the opportunity that the kids needed for a flurry of them to bounce into the lord, past him and into the hallway, bleating merrily as they careened off the columns and potted plants, skittering all over everywhere. Achilleas staggered backwards a pace and gazed wide-eyed at the stampede. It was the crash as one such plant toppled over and spread earth over the polished marble floor that jarred him back into action, a muttered ‘Fuck’ from between his lips as he hastily stepped back and closed the door again, corralling the rest of the invaders within his room even as he stared non-plussed after the others. What in the name of all the Gods
He had so many questions and some less than complimentary suspicions, but between them and an agitated sense of disbelief was the pressing knowledge that there was now a handful of goat kids merrily bouncing their way around his father’s house. He didn’t know where the man was, but he did know he didn’t want to be associated with that disaster, and so it was in his interests to...fix it somehow. Where the fuck where all the staff?
“Erika!” he bellowed, summoning the housekeeper who ruled over the rest of the servants and usually ran the archontiko like clockwork. “Some assistance would be welcomed!”
The woman standing beside Stephanos visibly tensed, her hands going to twist in the apron she wore. Long a servant of the family, she knew the Lord Achilleas to be a kindly man for the most part, but he had a temper too upon occasion, and how would she explain away this? Shooting the Prince beside her a solemn look, the woman took a breath and moved to open the door that Stephanos had hidden behind. “If you will excuse me, your highness”.
Achilleas was not exactly the lightest of walkers but the sureness of the footfalls and their oncoming presence only made Stephanos lean back against two of the women flanking him, his teeth set against his own knuckles, trying so hard not to laugh that he was shaking. Through the crack in the door, he could see Achilleas’s tall form pause at the doorway. Stephanos’s whole body vibrated and his breath caught in his chest, just waiting for the moment. That single second of pure horror and confusion on Achilleas’s face and he couldn’t see it well from here. So, as carefully as he could, he stood, smashing himself into the corner of the wall to get the exact angle he needed to see the expression he’d worked so hard to get.
With his cousin’s swear, Stephanos nearly lost it and actually did once Achilleas bellowed for the housekeeper. Slapping his own hand over his mouth, Stephanos practically wept in hysterical laughter, muffled by his hand and his cousin’s voice, and no doubt the pulsing fury in Achilleas’s ears as blood rushed in a temper his cousin was no doubt trying to control. Stephanos merely shook his head as the housekeeper excused herself and the woman hadn’t made it out the door before Stephanos couldn’t take it anymore and slid down the wall, giggles bursting out in echoing guffaws of roukous mirth.
“It was meeeeeeeee!” he called, not even able to stand and having to wipe tears from his eyes. Soft feminine hands took him firmly by the elbows, someone slipped their arm around his waist, and Stephanos found himself buoyed upwards by the female staff of the house and lightly pushed into the hall. As much as the maids might like the prince, they had to live with the lord. It was best not to be discovered.
Stephanos was not afraid of Achilleas, no matter his cousin’s fearsome reputation. There just wasn’t a reliable way to make family take you seriously when they’ve grown up with you and seen all your weakest, dumbest moments. To everyone else, Achilleas was a handsome, responsible, fearsome warrior with an iron fist. To Stephanos, he was the companion of youth who had been in as many silly scrapes as anyone could be. And, of course, Stephanos knew Achilleas was secretly terrified of his father which made him easy to exploit for fun.
The prince would have liked to saunter up, lording the prank over his cousin, boasting about the look on the other’s face, but he was too busy doubling over again laughing. Fresh tears dripped on the floor and Stephanos was in real danger of collapsing to his knees, howling. The few goats that had escaped bounced about, coming back down this hall and running straight up Stephanos’s back to then jump off and headbutt both the housekeeper and Achilleas.
“BLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Achilleas was not exactly the lightest of walkers but the sureness of the footfalls and their oncoming presence only made Stephanos lean back against two of the women flanking him, his teeth set against his own knuckles, trying so hard not to laugh that he was shaking. Through the crack in the door, he could see Achilleas’s tall form pause at the doorway. Stephanos’s whole body vibrated and his breath caught in his chest, just waiting for the moment. That single second of pure horror and confusion on Achilleas’s face and he couldn’t see it well from here. So, as carefully as he could, he stood, smashing himself into the corner of the wall to get the exact angle he needed to see the expression he’d worked so hard to get.
With his cousin’s swear, Stephanos nearly lost it and actually did once Achilleas bellowed for the housekeeper. Slapping his own hand over his mouth, Stephanos practically wept in hysterical laughter, muffled by his hand and his cousin’s voice, and no doubt the pulsing fury in Achilleas’s ears as blood rushed in a temper his cousin was no doubt trying to control. Stephanos merely shook his head as the housekeeper excused herself and the woman hadn’t made it out the door before Stephanos couldn’t take it anymore and slid down the wall, giggles bursting out in echoing guffaws of roukous mirth.
“It was meeeeeeeee!” he called, not even able to stand and having to wipe tears from his eyes. Soft feminine hands took him firmly by the elbows, someone slipped their arm around his waist, and Stephanos found himself buoyed upwards by the female staff of the house and lightly pushed into the hall. As much as the maids might like the prince, they had to live with the lord. It was best not to be discovered.
Stephanos was not afraid of Achilleas, no matter his cousin’s fearsome reputation. There just wasn’t a reliable way to make family take you seriously when they’ve grown up with you and seen all your weakest, dumbest moments. To everyone else, Achilleas was a handsome, responsible, fearsome warrior with an iron fist. To Stephanos, he was the companion of youth who had been in as many silly scrapes as anyone could be. And, of course, Stephanos knew Achilleas was secretly terrified of his father which made him easy to exploit for fun.
The prince would have liked to saunter up, lording the prank over his cousin, boasting about the look on the other’s face, but he was too busy doubling over again laughing. Fresh tears dripped on the floor and Stephanos was in real danger of collapsing to his knees, howling. The few goats that had escaped bounced about, coming back down this hall and running straight up Stephanos’s back to then jump off and headbutt both the housekeeper and Achilleas.
“BLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”
Achilleas was not exactly the lightest of walkers but the sureness of the footfalls and their oncoming presence only made Stephanos lean back against two of the women flanking him, his teeth set against his own knuckles, trying so hard not to laugh that he was shaking. Through the crack in the door, he could see Achilleas’s tall form pause at the doorway. Stephanos’s whole body vibrated and his breath caught in his chest, just waiting for the moment. That single second of pure horror and confusion on Achilleas’s face and he couldn’t see it well from here. So, as carefully as he could, he stood, smashing himself into the corner of the wall to get the exact angle he needed to see the expression he’d worked so hard to get.
With his cousin’s swear, Stephanos nearly lost it and actually did once Achilleas bellowed for the housekeeper. Slapping his own hand over his mouth, Stephanos practically wept in hysterical laughter, muffled by his hand and his cousin’s voice, and no doubt the pulsing fury in Achilleas’s ears as blood rushed in a temper his cousin was no doubt trying to control. Stephanos merely shook his head as the housekeeper excused herself and the woman hadn’t made it out the door before Stephanos couldn’t take it anymore and slid down the wall, giggles bursting out in echoing guffaws of roukous mirth.
“It was meeeeeeeee!” he called, not even able to stand and having to wipe tears from his eyes. Soft feminine hands took him firmly by the elbows, someone slipped their arm around his waist, and Stephanos found himself buoyed upwards by the female staff of the house and lightly pushed into the hall. As much as the maids might like the prince, they had to live with the lord. It was best not to be discovered.
Stephanos was not afraid of Achilleas, no matter his cousin’s fearsome reputation. There just wasn’t a reliable way to make family take you seriously when they’ve grown up with you and seen all your weakest, dumbest moments. To everyone else, Achilleas was a handsome, responsible, fearsome warrior with an iron fist. To Stephanos, he was the companion of youth who had been in as many silly scrapes as anyone could be. And, of course, Stephanos knew Achilleas was secretly terrified of his father which made him easy to exploit for fun.
The prince would have liked to saunter up, lording the prank over his cousin, boasting about the look on the other’s face, but he was too busy doubling over again laughing. Fresh tears dripped on the floor and Stephanos was in real danger of collapsing to his knees, howling. The few goats that had escaped bounced about, coming back down this hall and running straight up Stephanos’s back to then jump off and headbutt both the housekeeper and Achilleas.
“BLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”
There were relatively few situations in life where Achilleas was at a loss as what to do. Especially when those situations were of a practical nature. He had years of leadership under his belt and was well-used to strategising and applying logical thought to achieve his goals. But as he stood watching the parade of goat kids skip through the halls of the archontiko he was, for once, entirely without a plan of action.
The call for the housekeeper was perhaps also a call for help: how did one try and muster livestock within the halls of one’s home? Seeing Erika emerge from a room suspiciously close to his own and wearing a very careful expression did not bode well, and so Achilleas’ attention had already drifted over her shoulder by the time he heard the wheezing, gasping ‘It was me’.
He was going to kill Stephanos. Possibly twice over, and slowly.
However, the scorching look of disapproval he levelled at the man was entirely wasted, the Prince too gripped in the throes of amusement to appreciate it, and with the more pressing issue reasserting itself as a couple of the escaped goats used the bent form of the royal as a launchpad to careen into Achilleas and Erika both.
“Gods sake, Stephanos” was all the lord could manage as he made a scrabbling grasp for the kid that was skittering past him. Achilleas managed to close a hand around one of its hind legs and he hung on then, dodging flailing hooves and ignoring the plaintive bleating until he’d managed to secure the brown and white kid in a tight grip to his chest.
“Go and fetch Cleon” he threw out to the housekeeper, who was trying terribly hard to keep a straight face at seeing the elder son wrestle with the tiny kid. “ Tell him my chambers are full of goat kids and they need removing to somewhere more suitable” It was ridiculous just saying it.
The woman dipped into a bow and hurried off to find the master stablehand as Achilleas considered what to do with the squirming animal he now held. “ You can at least bloody help” he sniped at Stephanos, who was still creased with laughter. “ I don’t even…..why GOATS?!” Achilleas shook his head “ It doesn’t matter, I can’t even try to understand you. Just catch them before they destroy the place!”
Which given at least two of the kids had disappeared from sight, didn’t seem like an impossibility. With a huff of exasperation, Achilleas braved shouldering open the door to his room again to deposit his captive, closing it again with a bang to prevent any of the other little demons getting out. In other circumstances, he might have been able to admit that they were kind of adorable in their frenetic bounciness, but when they were risking provoking the wrath of his father, it was difficult to think of anything but how to avoid that instance.
Hearing a crash from further within the manor, Achilleas shoved at his cousin as he passed, urging him onwards. “Come on” he said. “Before they eat Meena’s favourite chiton or something”
That was an outcome that would almost be worth the ensuing uproar, but though he enjoyed the thought, Achilleas knew he couldn’t allow it to transpire. He’d never hear the end of it. And so he hurried down the hallway, leaving the girls who hadn’t been able to resist helping their Prince in his tomfoolery to melt discreetly back to where they should be.
Rounding the corner, Achilleas walked into the dining hall to find a little speckled goat standing on the polished stone tabletop, happily nibbling on the fruit that was displayed in a large bowl in the centre. He shot a murderous look over his shoulder at Stephanos and jerked his head for the man to take the far end of the room. It wasn’t quite what their military training had prepared them for, but it would be an embarrassment to all of Taengea if a general and a commander could not outflank a goat.
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There were relatively few situations in life where Achilleas was at a loss as what to do. Especially when those situations were of a practical nature. He had years of leadership under his belt and was well-used to strategising and applying logical thought to achieve his goals. But as he stood watching the parade of goat kids skip through the halls of the archontiko he was, for once, entirely without a plan of action.
The call for the housekeeper was perhaps also a call for help: how did one try and muster livestock within the halls of one’s home? Seeing Erika emerge from a room suspiciously close to his own and wearing a very careful expression did not bode well, and so Achilleas’ attention had already drifted over her shoulder by the time he heard the wheezing, gasping ‘It was me’.
He was going to kill Stephanos. Possibly twice over, and slowly.
However, the scorching look of disapproval he levelled at the man was entirely wasted, the Prince too gripped in the throes of amusement to appreciate it, and with the more pressing issue reasserting itself as a couple of the escaped goats used the bent form of the royal as a launchpad to careen into Achilleas and Erika both.
“Gods sake, Stephanos” was all the lord could manage as he made a scrabbling grasp for the kid that was skittering past him. Achilleas managed to close a hand around one of its hind legs and he hung on then, dodging flailing hooves and ignoring the plaintive bleating until he’d managed to secure the brown and white kid in a tight grip to his chest.
“Go and fetch Cleon” he threw out to the housekeeper, who was trying terribly hard to keep a straight face at seeing the elder son wrestle with the tiny kid. “ Tell him my chambers are full of goat kids and they need removing to somewhere more suitable” It was ridiculous just saying it.
The woman dipped into a bow and hurried off to find the master stablehand as Achilleas considered what to do with the squirming animal he now held. “ You can at least bloody help” he sniped at Stephanos, who was still creased with laughter. “ I don’t even…..why GOATS?!” Achilleas shook his head “ It doesn’t matter, I can’t even try to understand you. Just catch them before they destroy the place!”
Which given at least two of the kids had disappeared from sight, didn’t seem like an impossibility. With a huff of exasperation, Achilleas braved shouldering open the door to his room again to deposit his captive, closing it again with a bang to prevent any of the other little demons getting out. In other circumstances, he might have been able to admit that they were kind of adorable in their frenetic bounciness, but when they were risking provoking the wrath of his father, it was difficult to think of anything but how to avoid that instance.
Hearing a crash from further within the manor, Achilleas shoved at his cousin as he passed, urging him onwards. “Come on” he said. “Before they eat Meena’s favourite chiton or something”
That was an outcome that would almost be worth the ensuing uproar, but though he enjoyed the thought, Achilleas knew he couldn’t allow it to transpire. He’d never hear the end of it. And so he hurried down the hallway, leaving the girls who hadn’t been able to resist helping their Prince in his tomfoolery to melt discreetly back to where they should be.
Rounding the corner, Achilleas walked into the dining hall to find a little speckled goat standing on the polished stone tabletop, happily nibbling on the fruit that was displayed in a large bowl in the centre. He shot a murderous look over his shoulder at Stephanos and jerked his head for the man to take the far end of the room. It wasn’t quite what their military training had prepared them for, but it would be an embarrassment to all of Taengea if a general and a commander could not outflank a goat.
There were relatively few situations in life where Achilleas was at a loss as what to do. Especially when those situations were of a practical nature. He had years of leadership under his belt and was well-used to strategising and applying logical thought to achieve his goals. But as he stood watching the parade of goat kids skip through the halls of the archontiko he was, for once, entirely without a plan of action.
The call for the housekeeper was perhaps also a call for help: how did one try and muster livestock within the halls of one’s home? Seeing Erika emerge from a room suspiciously close to his own and wearing a very careful expression did not bode well, and so Achilleas’ attention had already drifted over her shoulder by the time he heard the wheezing, gasping ‘It was me’.
He was going to kill Stephanos. Possibly twice over, and slowly.
However, the scorching look of disapproval he levelled at the man was entirely wasted, the Prince too gripped in the throes of amusement to appreciate it, and with the more pressing issue reasserting itself as a couple of the escaped goats used the bent form of the royal as a launchpad to careen into Achilleas and Erika both.
“Gods sake, Stephanos” was all the lord could manage as he made a scrabbling grasp for the kid that was skittering past him. Achilleas managed to close a hand around one of its hind legs and he hung on then, dodging flailing hooves and ignoring the plaintive bleating until he’d managed to secure the brown and white kid in a tight grip to his chest.
“Go and fetch Cleon” he threw out to the housekeeper, who was trying terribly hard to keep a straight face at seeing the elder son wrestle with the tiny kid. “ Tell him my chambers are full of goat kids and they need removing to somewhere more suitable” It was ridiculous just saying it.
The woman dipped into a bow and hurried off to find the master stablehand as Achilleas considered what to do with the squirming animal he now held. “ You can at least bloody help” he sniped at Stephanos, who was still creased with laughter. “ I don’t even…..why GOATS?!” Achilleas shook his head “ It doesn’t matter, I can’t even try to understand you. Just catch them before they destroy the place!”
Which given at least two of the kids had disappeared from sight, didn’t seem like an impossibility. With a huff of exasperation, Achilleas braved shouldering open the door to his room again to deposit his captive, closing it again with a bang to prevent any of the other little demons getting out. In other circumstances, he might have been able to admit that they were kind of adorable in their frenetic bounciness, but when they were risking provoking the wrath of his father, it was difficult to think of anything but how to avoid that instance.
Hearing a crash from further within the manor, Achilleas shoved at his cousin as he passed, urging him onwards. “Come on” he said. “Before they eat Meena’s favourite chiton or something”
That was an outcome that would almost be worth the ensuing uproar, but though he enjoyed the thought, Achilleas knew he couldn’t allow it to transpire. He’d never hear the end of it. And so he hurried down the hallway, leaving the girls who hadn’t been able to resist helping their Prince in his tomfoolery to melt discreetly back to where they should be.
Rounding the corner, Achilleas walked into the dining hall to find a little speckled goat standing on the polished stone tabletop, happily nibbling on the fruit that was displayed in a large bowl in the centre. He shot a murderous look over his shoulder at Stephanos and jerked his head for the man to take the far end of the room. It wasn’t quite what their military training had prepared them for, but it would be an embarrassment to all of Taengea if a general and a commander could not outflank a goat.
[Aged 12]
Sara was on the grounds of the archontikos, her dark green chiton getting quite dirty as she worked in her garden. It was small, offset from the rest of the work that the groundskeepers did, and near enough to her bedrooms so that she could keep an eye on it. The project had started innocently enough when she was about ten years old, taking some of her favorite flowers and planting them nearby where she could see them all the time. That simple act had sparked a curiosity in her, and as time went on -- she not only learned how to properly replant things but also to grow things from seeds. She was most recently learning about healing herbs, and she had an open book nearby that she was referencing on how to take care of her latest addition.
It was warm work, and she reached up to wipe the sweat from her brow. The youngest daughter of Irakles certainly had no qualms about getting her hands dirty, finding that she preferred the work to the ones expected of her like recreational mending or playing instruments. She was also fairly hopeless in her mother’s lessons of discernment, causing more frustration for her frazzled mother. Her eyes widened at the horrible sound of paper ripping, and the young girl turned to find her book being vandalized by a…goat? A baby goat at that. The little black buckling bleated at her with her book’s page still hanging out of his mouth and she made a grab for it, desperate to save it. Her father would kill her for ruining one of his books.
The buckling took off, paper still in his mouth, and Sara scrambled to her feet to give chase. He made a surprising leap up onto one of the ledges, disappearing back into the marble hallways -- his hooves clacking noisily as he taunted her with his bleating. Red-faced, Sara hurried after him until she watched as he squeezed through a slightly open door. Was this the way he had come from? She had to get that paper back! Her dark hair flowed down her back, just the front of it tied back away from her face and leaving the rest to reach well past her waist. She was considering cutting it, and this little adventure might just be the final straw.
Slowing, she was more stealthy as she approached the door -- opening it just enough to stick her head into the dining hall. And it seemed that she was not alone, her buckling joining the speckled one that was on the table. Where in the gods names had goat kids come from? Sara pushed into the room, quickly closing the door behind her to keep them from escaping from this side of things. It was then that she noticed Achilleas, her eyebrows shooting up in surprise. Then she saw Stephanos as well, unable to help the easy smile that broke out over her features.
”Why should I have guessed that somehow this was your doing?” She said familiarly, shaking her head at her cousin. ”But…” She glanced nervously at Achilleas. ”How did you get my brother involved?” Her tone was mostly teasing.
”Oh no!” She shouted, startling the goats as she noticed that her paper was no longer hanging from the mouth of the dark colored buckling. ”My book!” Her voice was quite distraught, and she pressed her hands to her face. ”Pa…” She caught herself, the transition from calling Irakles father instead of papa still a little fresh and thus harder to remember to do. ”Father is going to be furious.” She groaned.
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[Aged 12]
Sara was on the grounds of the archontikos, her dark green chiton getting quite dirty as she worked in her garden. It was small, offset from the rest of the work that the groundskeepers did, and near enough to her bedrooms so that she could keep an eye on it. The project had started innocently enough when she was about ten years old, taking some of her favorite flowers and planting them nearby where she could see them all the time. That simple act had sparked a curiosity in her, and as time went on -- she not only learned how to properly replant things but also to grow things from seeds. She was most recently learning about healing herbs, and she had an open book nearby that she was referencing on how to take care of her latest addition.
It was warm work, and she reached up to wipe the sweat from her brow. The youngest daughter of Irakles certainly had no qualms about getting her hands dirty, finding that she preferred the work to the ones expected of her like recreational mending or playing instruments. She was also fairly hopeless in her mother’s lessons of discernment, causing more frustration for her frazzled mother. Her eyes widened at the horrible sound of paper ripping, and the young girl turned to find her book being vandalized by a…goat? A baby goat at that. The little black buckling bleated at her with her book’s page still hanging out of his mouth and she made a grab for it, desperate to save it. Her father would kill her for ruining one of his books.
The buckling took off, paper still in his mouth, and Sara scrambled to her feet to give chase. He made a surprising leap up onto one of the ledges, disappearing back into the marble hallways -- his hooves clacking noisily as he taunted her with his bleating. Red-faced, Sara hurried after him until she watched as he squeezed through a slightly open door. Was this the way he had come from? She had to get that paper back! Her dark hair flowed down her back, just the front of it tied back away from her face and leaving the rest to reach well past her waist. She was considering cutting it, and this little adventure might just be the final straw.
Slowing, she was more stealthy as she approached the door -- opening it just enough to stick her head into the dining hall. And it seemed that she was not alone, her buckling joining the speckled one that was on the table. Where in the gods names had goat kids come from? Sara pushed into the room, quickly closing the door behind her to keep them from escaping from this side of things. It was then that she noticed Achilleas, her eyebrows shooting up in surprise. Then she saw Stephanos as well, unable to help the easy smile that broke out over her features.
”Why should I have guessed that somehow this was your doing?” She said familiarly, shaking her head at her cousin. ”But…” She glanced nervously at Achilleas. ”How did you get my brother involved?” Her tone was mostly teasing.
”Oh no!” She shouted, startling the goats as she noticed that her paper was no longer hanging from the mouth of the dark colored buckling. ”My book!” Her voice was quite distraught, and she pressed her hands to her face. ”Pa…” She caught herself, the transition from calling Irakles father instead of papa still a little fresh and thus harder to remember to do. ”Father is going to be furious.” She groaned.
[Aged 12]
Sara was on the grounds of the archontikos, her dark green chiton getting quite dirty as she worked in her garden. It was small, offset from the rest of the work that the groundskeepers did, and near enough to her bedrooms so that she could keep an eye on it. The project had started innocently enough when she was about ten years old, taking some of her favorite flowers and planting them nearby where she could see them all the time. That simple act had sparked a curiosity in her, and as time went on -- she not only learned how to properly replant things but also to grow things from seeds. She was most recently learning about healing herbs, and she had an open book nearby that she was referencing on how to take care of her latest addition.
It was warm work, and she reached up to wipe the sweat from her brow. The youngest daughter of Irakles certainly had no qualms about getting her hands dirty, finding that she preferred the work to the ones expected of her like recreational mending or playing instruments. She was also fairly hopeless in her mother’s lessons of discernment, causing more frustration for her frazzled mother. Her eyes widened at the horrible sound of paper ripping, and the young girl turned to find her book being vandalized by a…goat? A baby goat at that. The little black buckling bleated at her with her book’s page still hanging out of his mouth and she made a grab for it, desperate to save it. Her father would kill her for ruining one of his books.
The buckling took off, paper still in his mouth, and Sara scrambled to her feet to give chase. He made a surprising leap up onto one of the ledges, disappearing back into the marble hallways -- his hooves clacking noisily as he taunted her with his bleating. Red-faced, Sara hurried after him until she watched as he squeezed through a slightly open door. Was this the way he had come from? She had to get that paper back! Her dark hair flowed down her back, just the front of it tied back away from her face and leaving the rest to reach well past her waist. She was considering cutting it, and this little adventure might just be the final straw.
Slowing, she was more stealthy as she approached the door -- opening it just enough to stick her head into the dining hall. And it seemed that she was not alone, her buckling joining the speckled one that was on the table. Where in the gods names had goat kids come from? Sara pushed into the room, quickly closing the door behind her to keep them from escaping from this side of things. It was then that she noticed Achilleas, her eyebrows shooting up in surprise. Then she saw Stephanos as well, unable to help the easy smile that broke out over her features.
”Why should I have guessed that somehow this was your doing?” She said familiarly, shaking her head at her cousin. ”But…” She glanced nervously at Achilleas. ”How did you get my brother involved?” Her tone was mostly teasing.
”Oh no!” She shouted, startling the goats as she noticed that her paper was no longer hanging from the mouth of the dark colored buckling. ”My book!” Her voice was quite distraught, and she pressed her hands to her face. ”Pa…” She caught herself, the transition from calling Irakles father instead of papa still a little fresh and thus harder to remember to do. ”Father is going to be furious.” She groaned.
“Gods sake, Stephanos” rang out in the corridor but Stephanos didn’t react. He sank to his knees, supporting himself with one hand, the other wiping his eyes, still laughing even as tiny pounding hooves jumped off his back. This was too perfect. This had to be the best thing he’d ever done. Battles won? Meaningless. Every woman he’d ever met, every perfect moment under stars and moonlight, every personal achievement he’d ever done didn’t compare to the sight of Achilleas being rammed by a tiny baby goat body flying through the air. It sent Stephanos into a fresh wave of laughter so hard he could not breathe. There wasn’t even sound as his shoulders shook, tongue clenched between teeth, his cheeks hurting from too much smiling.
“Go and fetch Cleon” Achilleas was saying. “Tell him my chambers are full of goat kids and they need removing to somewhere more suitable.”
Stephanos howled.
“You can at least bloody help” Achilleas snapped. “I don’t even…..why GOATS?!”
“Because they were cheap and easy to get,” Stephanos gasped through bouts of laughter, making a valiant effort to stop laughing but he wasn’t equal to the task of rising to his feet, so he sat there, kneeling in front of his cousin, lips pressed into a thin line. The moment his bright eyes reached the squirming kid in Achilleas’s arms, however, he lost it again.
“It doesn’t matter, I can’t even try to understand you. Just catch them before they destroy the place!”
Stephanos hiccuped a last laugh and slid up the wall, trying to stand and watching Achilleas place the goat kid in his room. He’d held out his hand to try to calm his cousin down, realizing belatedly that only one of them found this terribly hilarious, but Achilleas shoved him as he stormed past and Stephanos coughed as his back hit the wall. It was always regrettable to be re-acquainted with Achilleas’s more brutal abilities that he always managed to forget.
“Come on, before they eat Meena’s favourite chiton or something”
“I wish they’d eat her chitons,” Stephanos grumbled under his breath. The mere mention of his uncle’s mistress was enough to curb his laughter for the time being. It was like the woman was cursed with being a fun suck, same as Irakles. He followed Achilleas through the hall and around the corner, depositing the two of them in the dining room. Stephanos met Achilleas’s murderous glare and then shifted his attention to the baby goat that regarded them with all the blithe attention of a contented cow. “It’s so cute, though,” Stephanos complained as he heeded Achilleas’s motion towards the far end of the room. This was a little overkill, he thought.
“You have servants for this,” he reminded Achilleas, but took up his position, slightly squatting at the knees, ready to catch the furry animal if it torpedoed this way. All at once, a little black goat bounded from behind him and click-clacked onto the table, placidly chewing paper. Stephanos glanced around and spotted Sara peeking into the room. She looked first to her brother at the far end as she slipped through the door, and then at him. He raised his brows at the sight of her. She was filthy; a state he did not imagine her father approved of.
”Why should I have guessed that somehow this was your doing? But…How did you get my brother involved?”
“Same as always,” he flashed a grin. “I simply showed him the door and he went through it himself.” Sara didn’t seem to be listening to his joke, though. Her face suddenly contorted and she worried about a book, but that had Stephanos sweeping the room in search of one but all he could see were the goats and the fruit bowl.
“It’ll be alright,” he said as he approached the little goats at the table, eyes on Achilleas so they could coordinate their efforts. “I’m sure your father doesn’t have time to read.” He just couldn’t imagine Irakles ever being so bored that he’d wander to the archontiko’s personal library to pick out a novel, take it to the balcony, lounge on a kline, and kick back. The man was just wound far, far too tightly with indignation.
On the word ‘read’, Stephanos dove, secured the little black goat in his arms, and kept his face away as the goat flailed, bleating and pawing the air. He glanced to Achilleas, checking his cousin’s progress on goat capture, then looked back at Sara. “Here, hold this,” he said and dumped his goat in her arms. “It has your book anyway, so he’s basically yours already.”
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“Gods sake, Stephanos” rang out in the corridor but Stephanos didn’t react. He sank to his knees, supporting himself with one hand, the other wiping his eyes, still laughing even as tiny pounding hooves jumped off his back. This was too perfect. This had to be the best thing he’d ever done. Battles won? Meaningless. Every woman he’d ever met, every perfect moment under stars and moonlight, every personal achievement he’d ever done didn’t compare to the sight of Achilleas being rammed by a tiny baby goat body flying through the air. It sent Stephanos into a fresh wave of laughter so hard he could not breathe. There wasn’t even sound as his shoulders shook, tongue clenched between teeth, his cheeks hurting from too much smiling.
“Go and fetch Cleon” Achilleas was saying. “Tell him my chambers are full of goat kids and they need removing to somewhere more suitable.”
Stephanos howled.
“You can at least bloody help” Achilleas snapped. “I don’t even…..why GOATS?!”
“Because they were cheap and easy to get,” Stephanos gasped through bouts of laughter, making a valiant effort to stop laughing but he wasn’t equal to the task of rising to his feet, so he sat there, kneeling in front of his cousin, lips pressed into a thin line. The moment his bright eyes reached the squirming kid in Achilleas’s arms, however, he lost it again.
“It doesn’t matter, I can’t even try to understand you. Just catch them before they destroy the place!”
Stephanos hiccuped a last laugh and slid up the wall, trying to stand and watching Achilleas place the goat kid in his room. He’d held out his hand to try to calm his cousin down, realizing belatedly that only one of them found this terribly hilarious, but Achilleas shoved him as he stormed past and Stephanos coughed as his back hit the wall. It was always regrettable to be re-acquainted with Achilleas’s more brutal abilities that he always managed to forget.
“Come on, before they eat Meena’s favourite chiton or something”
“I wish they’d eat her chitons,” Stephanos grumbled under his breath. The mere mention of his uncle’s mistress was enough to curb his laughter for the time being. It was like the woman was cursed with being a fun suck, same as Irakles. He followed Achilleas through the hall and around the corner, depositing the two of them in the dining room. Stephanos met Achilleas’s murderous glare and then shifted his attention to the baby goat that regarded them with all the blithe attention of a contented cow. “It’s so cute, though,” Stephanos complained as he heeded Achilleas’s motion towards the far end of the room. This was a little overkill, he thought.
“You have servants for this,” he reminded Achilleas, but took up his position, slightly squatting at the knees, ready to catch the furry animal if it torpedoed this way. All at once, a little black goat bounded from behind him and click-clacked onto the table, placidly chewing paper. Stephanos glanced around and spotted Sara peeking into the room. She looked first to her brother at the far end as she slipped through the door, and then at him. He raised his brows at the sight of her. She was filthy; a state he did not imagine her father approved of.
”Why should I have guessed that somehow this was your doing? But…How did you get my brother involved?”
“Same as always,” he flashed a grin. “I simply showed him the door and he went through it himself.” Sara didn’t seem to be listening to his joke, though. Her face suddenly contorted and she worried about a book, but that had Stephanos sweeping the room in search of one but all he could see were the goats and the fruit bowl.
“It’ll be alright,” he said as he approached the little goats at the table, eyes on Achilleas so they could coordinate their efforts. “I’m sure your father doesn’t have time to read.” He just couldn’t imagine Irakles ever being so bored that he’d wander to the archontiko’s personal library to pick out a novel, take it to the balcony, lounge on a kline, and kick back. The man was just wound far, far too tightly with indignation.
On the word ‘read’, Stephanos dove, secured the little black goat in his arms, and kept his face away as the goat flailed, bleating and pawing the air. He glanced to Achilleas, checking his cousin’s progress on goat capture, then looked back at Sara. “Here, hold this,” he said and dumped his goat in her arms. “It has your book anyway, so he’s basically yours already.”
“Gods sake, Stephanos” rang out in the corridor but Stephanos didn’t react. He sank to his knees, supporting himself with one hand, the other wiping his eyes, still laughing even as tiny pounding hooves jumped off his back. This was too perfect. This had to be the best thing he’d ever done. Battles won? Meaningless. Every woman he’d ever met, every perfect moment under stars and moonlight, every personal achievement he’d ever done didn’t compare to the sight of Achilleas being rammed by a tiny baby goat body flying through the air. It sent Stephanos into a fresh wave of laughter so hard he could not breathe. There wasn’t even sound as his shoulders shook, tongue clenched between teeth, his cheeks hurting from too much smiling.
“Go and fetch Cleon” Achilleas was saying. “Tell him my chambers are full of goat kids and they need removing to somewhere more suitable.”
Stephanos howled.
“You can at least bloody help” Achilleas snapped. “I don’t even…..why GOATS?!”
“Because they were cheap and easy to get,” Stephanos gasped through bouts of laughter, making a valiant effort to stop laughing but he wasn’t equal to the task of rising to his feet, so he sat there, kneeling in front of his cousin, lips pressed into a thin line. The moment his bright eyes reached the squirming kid in Achilleas’s arms, however, he lost it again.
“It doesn’t matter, I can’t even try to understand you. Just catch them before they destroy the place!”
Stephanos hiccuped a last laugh and slid up the wall, trying to stand and watching Achilleas place the goat kid in his room. He’d held out his hand to try to calm his cousin down, realizing belatedly that only one of them found this terribly hilarious, but Achilleas shoved him as he stormed past and Stephanos coughed as his back hit the wall. It was always regrettable to be re-acquainted with Achilleas’s more brutal abilities that he always managed to forget.
“Come on, before they eat Meena’s favourite chiton or something”
“I wish they’d eat her chitons,” Stephanos grumbled under his breath. The mere mention of his uncle’s mistress was enough to curb his laughter for the time being. It was like the woman was cursed with being a fun suck, same as Irakles. He followed Achilleas through the hall and around the corner, depositing the two of them in the dining room. Stephanos met Achilleas’s murderous glare and then shifted his attention to the baby goat that regarded them with all the blithe attention of a contented cow. “It’s so cute, though,” Stephanos complained as he heeded Achilleas’s motion towards the far end of the room. This was a little overkill, he thought.
“You have servants for this,” he reminded Achilleas, but took up his position, slightly squatting at the knees, ready to catch the furry animal if it torpedoed this way. All at once, a little black goat bounded from behind him and click-clacked onto the table, placidly chewing paper. Stephanos glanced around and spotted Sara peeking into the room. She looked first to her brother at the far end as she slipped through the door, and then at him. He raised his brows at the sight of her. She was filthy; a state he did not imagine her father approved of.
”Why should I have guessed that somehow this was your doing? But…How did you get my brother involved?”
“Same as always,” he flashed a grin. “I simply showed him the door and he went through it himself.” Sara didn’t seem to be listening to his joke, though. Her face suddenly contorted and she worried about a book, but that had Stephanos sweeping the room in search of one but all he could see were the goats and the fruit bowl.
“It’ll be alright,” he said as he approached the little goats at the table, eyes on Achilleas so they could coordinate their efforts. “I’m sure your father doesn’t have time to read.” He just couldn’t imagine Irakles ever being so bored that he’d wander to the archontiko’s personal library to pick out a novel, take it to the balcony, lounge on a kline, and kick back. The man was just wound far, far too tightly with indignation.
On the word ‘read’, Stephanos dove, secured the little black goat in his arms, and kept his face away as the goat flailed, bleating and pawing the air. He glanced to Achilleas, checking his cousin’s progress on goat capture, then looked back at Sara. “Here, hold this,” he said and dumped his goat in her arms. “It has your book anyway, so he’s basically yours already.”
‘You have servants for this’ Achilleas narrowed his gaze a moment where it still rested upon the goat, because that was true, and where in Hades were they all? He pressed his lips together in annoyance, this one at least would be dealt with by Stephanos and himself. How many were there? Almost mockingly, a second kid appeared from nowhere, chewing happily on what looked like parchment and trip trapping down the length of the table to say hello to its fellow.
Achilleas sighed, and took a half a step forward, intent on grabbing the original dining room goat when there was more movement at the doorway and Sara skittered in. He glanced at her briefly, not knowing why she was smiling at Stephanos when honestly Achilleas just wanted to upend him face-first in the dung heap, and then shook his head, frustrated at the lack of urgency in his cousin. Yes, their father would be furious, and that was why he was trying to deal with this ridiculous fiasco before the man even got wind of it.
“Can you please just…” his imploration for Stephanos to stop grinning at his own genius and help cut off as the man did just that, making a quick grab at the black kid as Achilleas himself lunged for the speckled one. It had hard little hooves and as his arms settled around it and it began struggling in outrage, the lord hefted it a little higher to ensure those hooves didn't connect with anything vital.
Noticing that Stephanos had handed the black one over to Sara, Achilleas shot her a warning look. “Don’t let it go”. There was no hope in this staying quiet, he realised in dismay as he watched the young girl struggle with the wriggly thing. Somebody was going to be explaining why the archontiko was overrun with livestock, and he had a sinking feeling it would end up being him.
Moving past Stephanos and into the hallway, Achilleas stepped carefully over a felled plant and headed back down towards his own chambers which had turned into the goat containment room, for now at least. He jerked his head at Stephanos to open the door. “Don’t let any more of them out” he said needlessly, getting ready to quickly deposit the one in his arms with the little herd who were no doubt destroying his room. Gods teeth he was going to wreak some revenge on his cousin for this.
He would think more on that later, he decided, trying to use the bulk of his body to stop any escapees as he lowered his captive to the ground. “Give that one to me” he called to Sara, twisting to take it from her just as Cleon and Erica rounded the corner, the housekeeper bustling the stablemaster and a bemused looking groom along with some urgency.
“Heard somethin’ bout goats m’lord?” The old man said a rather insolent sort of amusement in his voice Achilleas thought as he shot a look at the horseman.
“Yes, you will have the Prince to thank for that. They’re in here...for the most part” He was still sandwiched in the half-open, half-closed door to his rooms, ignoring the occasional butt of a small head into his leg as he walled the goats in. Dropping the black goat, he yanked the door closed fast, and then just stood there a moment composing himself.
“If you can..have them removed” He managed after a moment. “Then there shouldn’t be…”
His words were cut off by a shriek and a large clatter from somewhere further into the archontiko, along with the unmistakable bleating of another goat. It would appear they hadn’t caught them all.
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‘You have servants for this’ Achilleas narrowed his gaze a moment where it still rested upon the goat, because that was true, and where in Hades were they all? He pressed his lips together in annoyance, this one at least would be dealt with by Stephanos and himself. How many were there? Almost mockingly, a second kid appeared from nowhere, chewing happily on what looked like parchment and trip trapping down the length of the table to say hello to its fellow.
Achilleas sighed, and took a half a step forward, intent on grabbing the original dining room goat when there was more movement at the doorway and Sara skittered in. He glanced at her briefly, not knowing why she was smiling at Stephanos when honestly Achilleas just wanted to upend him face-first in the dung heap, and then shook his head, frustrated at the lack of urgency in his cousin. Yes, their father would be furious, and that was why he was trying to deal with this ridiculous fiasco before the man even got wind of it.
“Can you please just…” his imploration for Stephanos to stop grinning at his own genius and help cut off as the man did just that, making a quick grab at the black kid as Achilleas himself lunged for the speckled one. It had hard little hooves and as his arms settled around it and it began struggling in outrage, the lord hefted it a little higher to ensure those hooves didn't connect with anything vital.
Noticing that Stephanos had handed the black one over to Sara, Achilleas shot her a warning look. “Don’t let it go”. There was no hope in this staying quiet, he realised in dismay as he watched the young girl struggle with the wriggly thing. Somebody was going to be explaining why the archontiko was overrun with livestock, and he had a sinking feeling it would end up being him.
Moving past Stephanos and into the hallway, Achilleas stepped carefully over a felled plant and headed back down towards his own chambers which had turned into the goat containment room, for now at least. He jerked his head at Stephanos to open the door. “Don’t let any more of them out” he said needlessly, getting ready to quickly deposit the one in his arms with the little herd who were no doubt destroying his room. Gods teeth he was going to wreak some revenge on his cousin for this.
He would think more on that later, he decided, trying to use the bulk of his body to stop any escapees as he lowered his captive to the ground. “Give that one to me” he called to Sara, twisting to take it from her just as Cleon and Erica rounded the corner, the housekeeper bustling the stablemaster and a bemused looking groom along with some urgency.
“Heard somethin’ bout goats m’lord?” The old man said a rather insolent sort of amusement in his voice Achilleas thought as he shot a look at the horseman.
“Yes, you will have the Prince to thank for that. They’re in here...for the most part” He was still sandwiched in the half-open, half-closed door to his rooms, ignoring the occasional butt of a small head into his leg as he walled the goats in. Dropping the black goat, he yanked the door closed fast, and then just stood there a moment composing himself.
“If you can..have them removed” He managed after a moment. “Then there shouldn’t be…”
His words were cut off by a shriek and a large clatter from somewhere further into the archontiko, along with the unmistakable bleating of another goat. It would appear they hadn’t caught them all.
‘You have servants for this’ Achilleas narrowed his gaze a moment where it still rested upon the goat, because that was true, and where in Hades were they all? He pressed his lips together in annoyance, this one at least would be dealt with by Stephanos and himself. How many were there? Almost mockingly, a second kid appeared from nowhere, chewing happily on what looked like parchment and trip trapping down the length of the table to say hello to its fellow.
Achilleas sighed, and took a half a step forward, intent on grabbing the original dining room goat when there was more movement at the doorway and Sara skittered in. He glanced at her briefly, not knowing why she was smiling at Stephanos when honestly Achilleas just wanted to upend him face-first in the dung heap, and then shook his head, frustrated at the lack of urgency in his cousin. Yes, their father would be furious, and that was why he was trying to deal with this ridiculous fiasco before the man even got wind of it.
“Can you please just…” his imploration for Stephanos to stop grinning at his own genius and help cut off as the man did just that, making a quick grab at the black kid as Achilleas himself lunged for the speckled one. It had hard little hooves and as his arms settled around it and it began struggling in outrage, the lord hefted it a little higher to ensure those hooves didn't connect with anything vital.
Noticing that Stephanos had handed the black one over to Sara, Achilleas shot her a warning look. “Don’t let it go”. There was no hope in this staying quiet, he realised in dismay as he watched the young girl struggle with the wriggly thing. Somebody was going to be explaining why the archontiko was overrun with livestock, and he had a sinking feeling it would end up being him.
Moving past Stephanos and into the hallway, Achilleas stepped carefully over a felled plant and headed back down towards his own chambers which had turned into the goat containment room, for now at least. He jerked his head at Stephanos to open the door. “Don’t let any more of them out” he said needlessly, getting ready to quickly deposit the one in his arms with the little herd who were no doubt destroying his room. Gods teeth he was going to wreak some revenge on his cousin for this.
He would think more on that later, he decided, trying to use the bulk of his body to stop any escapees as he lowered his captive to the ground. “Give that one to me” he called to Sara, twisting to take it from her just as Cleon and Erica rounded the corner, the housekeeper bustling the stablemaster and a bemused looking groom along with some urgency.
“Heard somethin’ bout goats m’lord?” The old man said a rather insolent sort of amusement in his voice Achilleas thought as he shot a look at the horseman.
“Yes, you will have the Prince to thank for that. They’re in here...for the most part” He was still sandwiched in the half-open, half-closed door to his rooms, ignoring the occasional butt of a small head into his leg as he walled the goats in. Dropping the black goat, he yanked the door closed fast, and then just stood there a moment composing himself.
“If you can..have them removed” He managed after a moment. “Then there shouldn’t be…”
His words were cut off by a shriek and a large clatter from somewhere further into the archontiko, along with the unmistakable bleating of another goat. It would appear they hadn’t caught them all.
It was suppose to have been an uneventful day. Or uneventful in the terms of Irakles, anyway. He had had a meeting in the morning, attended Senate as dutifully as he was being the brother to the King', and then held a meeting with all the barons to his lands which had attended the said Senate, before retiring to the palace to discuss matters with his brother. As per usual, discussion got heated, but Irakles was blessed with the knowledge to know when to shut up when was necessary, and had left the meeting with a sore palm and a tick in his head, but not anymore worst for wear.
With the day however, he had fully been intending to return to his household, get a bath in (as he had instructed the servants to prepare) and perhaps catch up on his missives before retiring to his study to work.
Or so he had planned.
And to top it all off, signs of broken pots with dirt strewn around, the plant which had been housed in its confines toppled and sad looking was the first sight that greeted the prince as he stepped in the foyer of his house. A quick glance to the side saw similar destruction to the dining hall just off the hallway, and with the build up of an unpleasant discussion with Zenon, Irakles now only saw red as his eyes widened, and his lips set in a displeased, straight line.
Oddly enough, no one else seems to be around. There would usually be a servant or two who would be greeting him as he returned, taking in his instructions or updating him on all that has happened or if anything required his attention during his absence. He hired a whole fleet of servants at his disposal, now where were they all? "Erika!" his voice thundered, when he suddenly heard the skitttering of footsteps in the wing that led to the family chambers. The frown on the prince's face only deepened as he heard voices, shuffling, and the man was just taking a step in that direction when the surprise of a butt of a young goat into his bottom had him losing his balance, tipping face forward from the surprise which resulted in him losing his balance.
The next thing he knew, Irakles found himself faceplanted into the well carpeted hallways of his own home, and two pairs of hooved feet danced upon his back, and wet lips nibbled at his hair, much to his consternation.
"Achilleas!!!"
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It was suppose to have been an uneventful day. Or uneventful in the terms of Irakles, anyway. He had had a meeting in the morning, attended Senate as dutifully as he was being the brother to the King', and then held a meeting with all the barons to his lands which had attended the said Senate, before retiring to the palace to discuss matters with his brother. As per usual, discussion got heated, but Irakles was blessed with the knowledge to know when to shut up when was necessary, and had left the meeting with a sore palm and a tick in his head, but not anymore worst for wear.
With the day however, he had fully been intending to return to his household, get a bath in (as he had instructed the servants to prepare) and perhaps catch up on his missives before retiring to his study to work.
Or so he had planned.
And to top it all off, signs of broken pots with dirt strewn around, the plant which had been housed in its confines toppled and sad looking was the first sight that greeted the prince as he stepped in the foyer of his house. A quick glance to the side saw similar destruction to the dining hall just off the hallway, and with the build up of an unpleasant discussion with Zenon, Irakles now only saw red as his eyes widened, and his lips set in a displeased, straight line.
Oddly enough, no one else seems to be around. There would usually be a servant or two who would be greeting him as he returned, taking in his instructions or updating him on all that has happened or if anything required his attention during his absence. He hired a whole fleet of servants at his disposal, now where were they all? "Erika!" his voice thundered, when he suddenly heard the skitttering of footsteps in the wing that led to the family chambers. The frown on the prince's face only deepened as he heard voices, shuffling, and the man was just taking a step in that direction when the surprise of a butt of a young goat into his bottom had him losing his balance, tipping face forward from the surprise which resulted in him losing his balance.
The next thing he knew, Irakles found himself faceplanted into the well carpeted hallways of his own home, and two pairs of hooved feet danced upon his back, and wet lips nibbled at his hair, much to his consternation.
"Achilleas!!!"
It was suppose to have been an uneventful day. Or uneventful in the terms of Irakles, anyway. He had had a meeting in the morning, attended Senate as dutifully as he was being the brother to the King', and then held a meeting with all the barons to his lands which had attended the said Senate, before retiring to the palace to discuss matters with his brother. As per usual, discussion got heated, but Irakles was blessed with the knowledge to know when to shut up when was necessary, and had left the meeting with a sore palm and a tick in his head, but not anymore worst for wear.
With the day however, he had fully been intending to return to his household, get a bath in (as he had instructed the servants to prepare) and perhaps catch up on his missives before retiring to his study to work.
Or so he had planned.
And to top it all off, signs of broken pots with dirt strewn around, the plant which had been housed in its confines toppled and sad looking was the first sight that greeted the prince as he stepped in the foyer of his house. A quick glance to the side saw similar destruction to the dining hall just off the hallway, and with the build up of an unpleasant discussion with Zenon, Irakles now only saw red as his eyes widened, and his lips set in a displeased, straight line.
Oddly enough, no one else seems to be around. There would usually be a servant or two who would be greeting him as he returned, taking in his instructions or updating him on all that has happened or if anything required his attention during his absence. He hired a whole fleet of servants at his disposal, now where were they all? "Erika!" his voice thundered, when he suddenly heard the skitttering of footsteps in the wing that led to the family chambers. The frown on the prince's face only deepened as he heard voices, shuffling, and the man was just taking a step in that direction when the surprise of a butt of a young goat into his bottom had him losing his balance, tipping face forward from the surprise which resulted in him losing his balance.
The next thing he knew, Irakles found himself faceplanted into the well carpeted hallways of his own home, and two pairs of hooved feet danced upon his back, and wet lips nibbled at his hair, much to his consternation.
"Achilleas!!!"
Stephanos trotted along after Achilleas, still so amused with his own cleverness that his cousin’s foul mood did not touch him yet. Later, he might think that maybe his next prank shouldn’t be quite so active. For now, he wiped the tears from his eyes that still threatened to leak as another fit of giggles attacked him when they moved into the corridor and heard the clickity clackity of little hooves and muffled bleating from behind Achilleas’s door.
With no goat in his arms, Stephanos was mainly just trailing his cousin at this point; moral support. Though, what support he’d actually be remained questionable; Stephanos had no intention of being the one to strip the sheets on Achilleas’s bed or wander about with a small broom to sweep up the little leftovers that would surely come from so many baby goats in one confined area. Any number of things could have happened to Achilleas’s room but he definitely didn’t want to be there when his cousin finally let the horrid goat out of that big vase; the one he’d put a heavy book on as a lid. He was fairly certain the goat would erupt out of that and smack someone in the face. It was best to let the steward handle that one.
Leaning with his palms pressed against the wall, Stephanos was mid sentence jibing his cousin when the first bellow of ”ERIKA!!!” made his blood run cold. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled and he jumped to attention like the general was right in front of them, raging at them and threatening to make them run drills for the rest of the afternoon until their legs gave out. It was utterly bewildering how just his uncle’s voice made him feel as though he was a child when he was nothing of the sort. Although, considering the goats clattering around, that last sentiment was debatable.
The next roar made Stephanos look to Achilleas. “Should we jump out the window?” he was completely serious, already moving to the room across the hall. There was a window there and he was fairly certain that he, at least, could slip out of it and down the trellis to safety. But, of course, that would leave Achilleas and now Sara alone. The prank was supposed to be funny, not drive a wedge between them. He swallowed and looked down the hall where Prince Irakles waited. That window was looking real tempting.
Stephanos led the way down the hall and rounded the corner to find his uncle lying prostrate with dirt crumbs caked into his eyebrows and beard. It might have been funny but Stephanos wasn’t laughing. “Uncle,” he greeted in what he hoped was a calm voice. “You seem to have taken a tumble.”
As soon as he’d said it, he wished he hadn’t. It was the dumbest observation he could have made and possibly the most inflammatory. Maybe he couldn’t slide out the window now but he could definitely dive off the nearest balcony.
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Stephanos trotted along after Achilleas, still so amused with his own cleverness that his cousin’s foul mood did not touch him yet. Later, he might think that maybe his next prank shouldn’t be quite so active. For now, he wiped the tears from his eyes that still threatened to leak as another fit of giggles attacked him when they moved into the corridor and heard the clickity clackity of little hooves and muffled bleating from behind Achilleas’s door.
With no goat in his arms, Stephanos was mainly just trailing his cousin at this point; moral support. Though, what support he’d actually be remained questionable; Stephanos had no intention of being the one to strip the sheets on Achilleas’s bed or wander about with a small broom to sweep up the little leftovers that would surely come from so many baby goats in one confined area. Any number of things could have happened to Achilleas’s room but he definitely didn’t want to be there when his cousin finally let the horrid goat out of that big vase; the one he’d put a heavy book on as a lid. He was fairly certain the goat would erupt out of that and smack someone in the face. It was best to let the steward handle that one.
Leaning with his palms pressed against the wall, Stephanos was mid sentence jibing his cousin when the first bellow of ”ERIKA!!!” made his blood run cold. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled and he jumped to attention like the general was right in front of them, raging at them and threatening to make them run drills for the rest of the afternoon until their legs gave out. It was utterly bewildering how just his uncle’s voice made him feel as though he was a child when he was nothing of the sort. Although, considering the goats clattering around, that last sentiment was debatable.
The next roar made Stephanos look to Achilleas. “Should we jump out the window?” he was completely serious, already moving to the room across the hall. There was a window there and he was fairly certain that he, at least, could slip out of it and down the trellis to safety. But, of course, that would leave Achilleas and now Sara alone. The prank was supposed to be funny, not drive a wedge between them. He swallowed and looked down the hall where Prince Irakles waited. That window was looking real tempting.
Stephanos led the way down the hall and rounded the corner to find his uncle lying prostrate with dirt crumbs caked into his eyebrows and beard. It might have been funny but Stephanos wasn’t laughing. “Uncle,” he greeted in what he hoped was a calm voice. “You seem to have taken a tumble.”
As soon as he’d said it, he wished he hadn’t. It was the dumbest observation he could have made and possibly the most inflammatory. Maybe he couldn’t slide out the window now but he could definitely dive off the nearest balcony.
Stephanos trotted along after Achilleas, still so amused with his own cleverness that his cousin’s foul mood did not touch him yet. Later, he might think that maybe his next prank shouldn’t be quite so active. For now, he wiped the tears from his eyes that still threatened to leak as another fit of giggles attacked him when they moved into the corridor and heard the clickity clackity of little hooves and muffled bleating from behind Achilleas’s door.
With no goat in his arms, Stephanos was mainly just trailing his cousin at this point; moral support. Though, what support he’d actually be remained questionable; Stephanos had no intention of being the one to strip the sheets on Achilleas’s bed or wander about with a small broom to sweep up the little leftovers that would surely come from so many baby goats in one confined area. Any number of things could have happened to Achilleas’s room but he definitely didn’t want to be there when his cousin finally let the horrid goat out of that big vase; the one he’d put a heavy book on as a lid. He was fairly certain the goat would erupt out of that and smack someone in the face. It was best to let the steward handle that one.
Leaning with his palms pressed against the wall, Stephanos was mid sentence jibing his cousin when the first bellow of ”ERIKA!!!” made his blood run cold. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled and he jumped to attention like the general was right in front of them, raging at them and threatening to make them run drills for the rest of the afternoon until their legs gave out. It was utterly bewildering how just his uncle’s voice made him feel as though he was a child when he was nothing of the sort. Although, considering the goats clattering around, that last sentiment was debatable.
The next roar made Stephanos look to Achilleas. “Should we jump out the window?” he was completely serious, already moving to the room across the hall. There was a window there and he was fairly certain that he, at least, could slip out of it and down the trellis to safety. But, of course, that would leave Achilleas and now Sara alone. The prank was supposed to be funny, not drive a wedge between them. He swallowed and looked down the hall where Prince Irakles waited. That window was looking real tempting.
Stephanos led the way down the hall and rounded the corner to find his uncle lying prostrate with dirt crumbs caked into his eyebrows and beard. It might have been funny but Stephanos wasn’t laughing. “Uncle,” he greeted in what he hoped was a calm voice. “You seem to have taken a tumble.”
As soon as he’d said it, he wished he hadn’t. It was the dumbest observation he could have made and possibly the most inflammatory. Maybe he couldn’t slide out the window now but he could definitely dive off the nearest balcony.
Sara’s smile was wry. She liked Stephanos just as much as she did Emilios, even if she did not see him nearly as often. Her gaze had flicked nervously to Achilleas but he seemed to be content to ignore her which was not uncommon for him. They had had a few moments over the course of her life, but ultimately he held her at arm’s length and she tried not to agitate him. Such was the song and dance of the legitimate heir and the bastard. Her dismay over the pages of her book having been eaten was quickly overshadowed by the fact that Stephanos had captured the offending goat and put him into her arms, where she struggled to keep hold of him.
”Wait a minute.” She started, but had to focus her attention on instead holding the buckling. He bleated and thrashed, throwing his head wildly in such a way that made Sara have to really try to hold him. Sara held her head back, quite worried about being given a bloody nose as the struggling goat tried to once more be free. Her gaze cut back to Achilleas as he warned her not to let the goat go, and she gave him an incredulous look. Did he find her so inept? She was twelve, not three. He’d taught her to wield a blade, but didn’t think she could hold a goat?
He held one now too, and she quickly realized that she should follow the two older members of her house -- so she tightened her grip and did so. Her steps were purposeful and smaller strides, and it wasn’t long before they’d left her behind and she caught up with them only once they’d reached their destination. She stepped forward when he wanted the goat from her arms, slightly worried about what they were doing here at Achilleas’ room. She got a glimpse at the chaos inside as her goat was deposited with the rest, and she turned with wide-eyes to look at her cousin.
”How many did you put in there?” She asked, the tone of her voice a mixture of wonder and horror while Achilleas addressed the housekeeper and stablemaster. They both looked quite amused by the whole ordeal, although Erika was doing a better job of hiding hers. ”Why did you let them out?” Sara asked her elder brother in the sweetest voice, raising her eyebrows at him.
”Erika!” A familiar voice boomed from elsewhere.
Sara’s own heart had seemed to freeze in her chest, her head snapping around in the direction that they had all just come from. It seemed as if the entire household had had the same reaction, the reflexive shrinking back as the master of the house had stumbled upon the mess. It wasn’t a moment later that a bellow of ”Achilleas!” followed, and Sara ducked her head. The hair on her neck had prickled, because while she had never been directly at the brunt of her father’s anger -- she’d seen it too often to not know what that wrath looked like.
”Should we jump out the window?” Stephanos had asked, causing Sara to look at him. He couldn’t have been serious? Still, he was the one to lead them down the hall. Every instinct told Sara that she should duck out of here while she could, but even if she was not to blame for the events that had unfolded here -- she had still taken part in them. She glanced at Achilleas, wishing somehow to offer him support but she doubted he would take kindly to having her take his hand like a child. Even though that would have made her feel better too. She kept close to him though, nearly on top of his heels as they all went to find Irakles.
She flinched at the sight of him on the ground, clenching her teeth in a grimace at the sight of her dignified father sprawled among the dirt and broken pots, with a goat on his back. Hades was sure to have a new soul tonight, she thought. After a moment, she decided to risk her father’s ire knowing that she was perhaps the only one who might be able to get close to him without being lashed outright.
”Father…” She said, the concern in her tone evident as she shooed the goat off of him. It went bouncing and prancing in the right direction, towards Achilleas and Stephanos. The young girl knelt down, trying to help her father up.
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Sara’s smile was wry. She liked Stephanos just as much as she did Emilios, even if she did not see him nearly as often. Her gaze had flicked nervously to Achilleas but he seemed to be content to ignore her which was not uncommon for him. They had had a few moments over the course of her life, but ultimately he held her at arm’s length and she tried not to agitate him. Such was the song and dance of the legitimate heir and the bastard. Her dismay over the pages of her book having been eaten was quickly overshadowed by the fact that Stephanos had captured the offending goat and put him into her arms, where she struggled to keep hold of him.
”Wait a minute.” She started, but had to focus her attention on instead holding the buckling. He bleated and thrashed, throwing his head wildly in such a way that made Sara have to really try to hold him. Sara held her head back, quite worried about being given a bloody nose as the struggling goat tried to once more be free. Her gaze cut back to Achilleas as he warned her not to let the goat go, and she gave him an incredulous look. Did he find her so inept? She was twelve, not three. He’d taught her to wield a blade, but didn’t think she could hold a goat?
He held one now too, and she quickly realized that she should follow the two older members of her house -- so she tightened her grip and did so. Her steps were purposeful and smaller strides, and it wasn’t long before they’d left her behind and she caught up with them only once they’d reached their destination. She stepped forward when he wanted the goat from her arms, slightly worried about what they were doing here at Achilleas’ room. She got a glimpse at the chaos inside as her goat was deposited with the rest, and she turned with wide-eyes to look at her cousin.
”How many did you put in there?” She asked, the tone of her voice a mixture of wonder and horror while Achilleas addressed the housekeeper and stablemaster. They both looked quite amused by the whole ordeal, although Erika was doing a better job of hiding hers. ”Why did you let them out?” Sara asked her elder brother in the sweetest voice, raising her eyebrows at him.
”Erika!” A familiar voice boomed from elsewhere.
Sara’s own heart had seemed to freeze in her chest, her head snapping around in the direction that they had all just come from. It seemed as if the entire household had had the same reaction, the reflexive shrinking back as the master of the house had stumbled upon the mess. It wasn’t a moment later that a bellow of ”Achilleas!” followed, and Sara ducked her head. The hair on her neck had prickled, because while she had never been directly at the brunt of her father’s anger -- she’d seen it too often to not know what that wrath looked like.
”Should we jump out the window?” Stephanos had asked, causing Sara to look at him. He couldn’t have been serious? Still, he was the one to lead them down the hall. Every instinct told Sara that she should duck out of here while she could, but even if she was not to blame for the events that had unfolded here -- she had still taken part in them. She glanced at Achilleas, wishing somehow to offer him support but she doubted he would take kindly to having her take his hand like a child. Even though that would have made her feel better too. She kept close to him though, nearly on top of his heels as they all went to find Irakles.
She flinched at the sight of him on the ground, clenching her teeth in a grimace at the sight of her dignified father sprawled among the dirt and broken pots, with a goat on his back. Hades was sure to have a new soul tonight, she thought. After a moment, she decided to risk her father’s ire knowing that she was perhaps the only one who might be able to get close to him without being lashed outright.
”Father…” She said, the concern in her tone evident as she shooed the goat off of him. It went bouncing and prancing in the right direction, towards Achilleas and Stephanos. The young girl knelt down, trying to help her father up.
Sara’s smile was wry. She liked Stephanos just as much as she did Emilios, even if she did not see him nearly as often. Her gaze had flicked nervously to Achilleas but he seemed to be content to ignore her which was not uncommon for him. They had had a few moments over the course of her life, but ultimately he held her at arm’s length and she tried not to agitate him. Such was the song and dance of the legitimate heir and the bastard. Her dismay over the pages of her book having been eaten was quickly overshadowed by the fact that Stephanos had captured the offending goat and put him into her arms, where she struggled to keep hold of him.
”Wait a minute.” She started, but had to focus her attention on instead holding the buckling. He bleated and thrashed, throwing his head wildly in such a way that made Sara have to really try to hold him. Sara held her head back, quite worried about being given a bloody nose as the struggling goat tried to once more be free. Her gaze cut back to Achilleas as he warned her not to let the goat go, and she gave him an incredulous look. Did he find her so inept? She was twelve, not three. He’d taught her to wield a blade, but didn’t think she could hold a goat?
He held one now too, and she quickly realized that she should follow the two older members of her house -- so she tightened her grip and did so. Her steps were purposeful and smaller strides, and it wasn’t long before they’d left her behind and she caught up with them only once they’d reached their destination. She stepped forward when he wanted the goat from her arms, slightly worried about what they were doing here at Achilleas’ room. She got a glimpse at the chaos inside as her goat was deposited with the rest, and she turned with wide-eyes to look at her cousin.
”How many did you put in there?” She asked, the tone of her voice a mixture of wonder and horror while Achilleas addressed the housekeeper and stablemaster. They both looked quite amused by the whole ordeal, although Erika was doing a better job of hiding hers. ”Why did you let them out?” Sara asked her elder brother in the sweetest voice, raising her eyebrows at him.
”Erika!” A familiar voice boomed from elsewhere.
Sara’s own heart had seemed to freeze in her chest, her head snapping around in the direction that they had all just come from. It seemed as if the entire household had had the same reaction, the reflexive shrinking back as the master of the house had stumbled upon the mess. It wasn’t a moment later that a bellow of ”Achilleas!” followed, and Sara ducked her head. The hair on her neck had prickled, because while she had never been directly at the brunt of her father’s anger -- she’d seen it too often to not know what that wrath looked like.
”Should we jump out the window?” Stephanos had asked, causing Sara to look at him. He couldn’t have been serious? Still, he was the one to lead them down the hall. Every instinct told Sara that she should duck out of here while she could, but even if she was not to blame for the events that had unfolded here -- she had still taken part in them. She glanced at Achilleas, wishing somehow to offer him support but she doubted he would take kindly to having her take his hand like a child. Even though that would have made her feel better too. She kept close to him though, nearly on top of his heels as they all went to find Irakles.
She flinched at the sight of him on the ground, clenching her teeth in a grimace at the sight of her dignified father sprawled among the dirt and broken pots, with a goat on his back. Hades was sure to have a new soul tonight, she thought. After a moment, she decided to risk her father’s ire knowing that she was perhaps the only one who might be able to get close to him without being lashed outright.
”Father…” She said, the concern in her tone evident as she shooed the goat off of him. It went bouncing and prancing in the right direction, towards Achilleas and Stephanos. The young girl knelt down, trying to help her father up.
Between Stephanos’ ill-contained amusement and Sara’s impertinent questions, Achilleas was feeling frazzled. Briefing the stablemaster to please remove half a dozen goats from his chambers hadn’t been part of his plans for his nice relaxing evening, and unlike his cousin, the baron didn't even want to think about whatever state his rooms would be in. If he just stayed out of them until they’d been put right then perhaps he could pretend it hadn’t happened at all.
Gazing pensively at the door to said room as the stable master and his grinning accomplice went in and closed it behind them, Achilleas turned to look at his half-sister for a moment, annoyance creeping into his features as he opened his mouth to answer her. “Obviously, I didn’t know they were…”
Erika!
The sound of a bellow from down the hall had his mouth snap shut, and Achilleas glanced at the housekeeper and shook his head. She didn’t deserve to have to go and deal with that. Thought his own desire to do so was distinctly lacking, the elder of Irakles’ sons barely suppressing a flinch when it was his own name being hollered through the halls of the archontiko next.
If there was one thing that Achilleas despised, it was being the focus of his father’s wrath. He had learned from a young age that it was better to walk the straight and narrow when it came to the Prince and General, and that was what he endeavoured to do. Whilst the man’s cutting disappointment was harder to avoid, it was a rare thing for Achilleas to end upfront and centre when the man was angry. He was far too careful.
So much so that when his cousin suggested escaping through the window, there was a very small but very insistent part of Achilleas that thought such was the best idea, and he had to stamp it down, shooting Stephanos a look and the scarcest shake of his head. Drawing a deep breath in through his nose, Achilleas squared his shoulders and fell into step beside his cousin, expression blank, head held high and projecting a confidence he absolutely didn’t feel in that moment. It was just a few goats. A bit of lighthearted tomfoolery. The servants would have it sorted in moments, nothing for you to concern yourself with...
His silently rehearsed explanation stuttered to a halt in his head as they rounded the corner and came upon the man in question face down upon the floor of his own home, a little white goat kid merrily chewing on the ends of his hair as he used the Prince as both a snack and a platform to dance upon.
Hades be merciful upon their souls
For what felt like a painfully long moment, Achilleas just gazed at his father, his mind failing to come up with anything appropriate to say and so he was silent. A compunction his cousin didn't hold it would seem for Stephanos’ words seemed as insolent as they could be. Achilleas turned his head slightly to look at his cousin, advocating he be quiet, just as Sara darted between them to go to the man’s aid. Right, yes. Action would be good here. Favourable to standing around and watching his father be nibbled on by a goat. He made a lunge for the kid in question, securing it in his big arms to a cacophony of outraged bleating but Achilleas didn’t really care a jot for the kid’s distress. He was more worried about his own.
“It’s...everything is being contained,” he said, as smoothly as he was able whilst struggling to hold on to the squirming goat. “ Nothing for you to concern yourself with, my Prince”. Which of course would have been more convincing if the man hadn’t been sprawled out upon the floor, which was littered with soil and broken pottery. Achilleas averted his gaze from that mess. “Apologies for the disruption”
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Between Stephanos’ ill-contained amusement and Sara’s impertinent questions, Achilleas was feeling frazzled. Briefing the stablemaster to please remove half a dozen goats from his chambers hadn’t been part of his plans for his nice relaxing evening, and unlike his cousin, the baron didn't even want to think about whatever state his rooms would be in. If he just stayed out of them until they’d been put right then perhaps he could pretend it hadn’t happened at all.
Gazing pensively at the door to said room as the stable master and his grinning accomplice went in and closed it behind them, Achilleas turned to look at his half-sister for a moment, annoyance creeping into his features as he opened his mouth to answer her. “Obviously, I didn’t know they were…”
Erika!
The sound of a bellow from down the hall had his mouth snap shut, and Achilleas glanced at the housekeeper and shook his head. She didn’t deserve to have to go and deal with that. Thought his own desire to do so was distinctly lacking, the elder of Irakles’ sons barely suppressing a flinch when it was his own name being hollered through the halls of the archontiko next.
If there was one thing that Achilleas despised, it was being the focus of his father’s wrath. He had learned from a young age that it was better to walk the straight and narrow when it came to the Prince and General, and that was what he endeavoured to do. Whilst the man’s cutting disappointment was harder to avoid, it was a rare thing for Achilleas to end upfront and centre when the man was angry. He was far too careful.
So much so that when his cousin suggested escaping through the window, there was a very small but very insistent part of Achilleas that thought such was the best idea, and he had to stamp it down, shooting Stephanos a look and the scarcest shake of his head. Drawing a deep breath in through his nose, Achilleas squared his shoulders and fell into step beside his cousin, expression blank, head held high and projecting a confidence he absolutely didn’t feel in that moment. It was just a few goats. A bit of lighthearted tomfoolery. The servants would have it sorted in moments, nothing for you to concern yourself with...
His silently rehearsed explanation stuttered to a halt in his head as they rounded the corner and came upon the man in question face down upon the floor of his own home, a little white goat kid merrily chewing on the ends of his hair as he used the Prince as both a snack and a platform to dance upon.
Hades be merciful upon their souls
For what felt like a painfully long moment, Achilleas just gazed at his father, his mind failing to come up with anything appropriate to say and so he was silent. A compunction his cousin didn't hold it would seem for Stephanos’ words seemed as insolent as they could be. Achilleas turned his head slightly to look at his cousin, advocating he be quiet, just as Sara darted between them to go to the man’s aid. Right, yes. Action would be good here. Favourable to standing around and watching his father be nibbled on by a goat. He made a lunge for the kid in question, securing it in his big arms to a cacophony of outraged bleating but Achilleas didn’t really care a jot for the kid’s distress. He was more worried about his own.
“It’s...everything is being contained,” he said, as smoothly as he was able whilst struggling to hold on to the squirming goat. “ Nothing for you to concern yourself with, my Prince”. Which of course would have been more convincing if the man hadn’t been sprawled out upon the floor, which was littered with soil and broken pottery. Achilleas averted his gaze from that mess. “Apologies for the disruption”
Between Stephanos’ ill-contained amusement and Sara’s impertinent questions, Achilleas was feeling frazzled. Briefing the stablemaster to please remove half a dozen goats from his chambers hadn’t been part of his plans for his nice relaxing evening, and unlike his cousin, the baron didn't even want to think about whatever state his rooms would be in. If he just stayed out of them until they’d been put right then perhaps he could pretend it hadn’t happened at all.
Gazing pensively at the door to said room as the stable master and his grinning accomplice went in and closed it behind them, Achilleas turned to look at his half-sister for a moment, annoyance creeping into his features as he opened his mouth to answer her. “Obviously, I didn’t know they were…”
Erika!
The sound of a bellow from down the hall had his mouth snap shut, and Achilleas glanced at the housekeeper and shook his head. She didn’t deserve to have to go and deal with that. Thought his own desire to do so was distinctly lacking, the elder of Irakles’ sons barely suppressing a flinch when it was his own name being hollered through the halls of the archontiko next.
If there was one thing that Achilleas despised, it was being the focus of his father’s wrath. He had learned from a young age that it was better to walk the straight and narrow when it came to the Prince and General, and that was what he endeavoured to do. Whilst the man’s cutting disappointment was harder to avoid, it was a rare thing for Achilleas to end upfront and centre when the man was angry. He was far too careful.
So much so that when his cousin suggested escaping through the window, there was a very small but very insistent part of Achilleas that thought such was the best idea, and he had to stamp it down, shooting Stephanos a look and the scarcest shake of his head. Drawing a deep breath in through his nose, Achilleas squared his shoulders and fell into step beside his cousin, expression blank, head held high and projecting a confidence he absolutely didn’t feel in that moment. It was just a few goats. A bit of lighthearted tomfoolery. The servants would have it sorted in moments, nothing for you to concern yourself with...
His silently rehearsed explanation stuttered to a halt in his head as they rounded the corner and came upon the man in question face down upon the floor of his own home, a little white goat kid merrily chewing on the ends of his hair as he used the Prince as both a snack and a platform to dance upon.
Hades be merciful upon their souls
For what felt like a painfully long moment, Achilleas just gazed at his father, his mind failing to come up with anything appropriate to say and so he was silent. A compunction his cousin didn't hold it would seem for Stephanos’ words seemed as insolent as they could be. Achilleas turned his head slightly to look at his cousin, advocating he be quiet, just as Sara darted between them to go to the man’s aid. Right, yes. Action would be good here. Favourable to standing around and watching his father be nibbled on by a goat. He made a lunge for the kid in question, securing it in his big arms to a cacophony of outraged bleating but Achilleas didn’t really care a jot for the kid’s distress. He was more worried about his own.
“It’s...everything is being contained,” he said, as smoothly as he was able whilst struggling to hold on to the squirming goat. “ Nothing for you to concern yourself with, my Prince”. Which of course would have been more convincing if the man hadn’t been sprawled out upon the floor, which was littered with soil and broken pottery. Achilleas averted his gaze from that mess. “Apologies for the disruption”
While he would've liked to say he wasn't a man prone to anger and fits of tempers, Irakles of Mikaelidas was decidedly not a calm man. Oh, in the battlefield and in front of the Senate, the prince put up a very carefully crafted, very calm demeanour. But that was if the people in question did not cross him or try his temper. It was known as an unspoken rule, that if Irakles said something, one did not try and cross him. There was rare few who could try and get him to change his mind, one of them being his brother. But with Zenon, it really was more of a lack of choice kind of thing. Afterall, his brother was the King.
Under his roof however, was an entirely different matter. And did you really expect him to remain calm after he's been used as a dancing stage by a baby goat?
The moment he heard Stephanos's voice, Irakles's eyes flashed with irate anger, although perhaps it was something his nephew wouldn't see, since the kid chose that exact moment to drive it's front hooves in his head, smashing his face against the ground. Had Sara not shooed the goat off him in the next moment, Irakles would likely have started flailing on the ground in an undignified manner with his airflow cut off. As it was, his face had a red mark from where the young goat had drove him in the ground.
Despite not pushing Sara's assistance away as he was prone to do, Irakles was quick to shrug it off the moment he was the right way up and on his feet, quickly dusting off the indignity of being pranced upon.
Finally turning a pair of stern, unamused gaze to the three youngsters, the prince levelled the glare at each of them in turn, Achilleas the last of the three as his son struggled to hold on to the squirming goat. "Contained?" he echoed, his tone dripping in disdain. In turn, his gaze slowly fell upon the soil, broken pottery, and then the horrified face of the servants who had just ran in after hearing the commotion, before turning back to Achilleas again. "I'm afraid you and I have very different meanings of the word, Achilleas." There was no doubt in what Irakles meant - he did not agree with Achilleas's assurance of the 'situation' being contained at all.
"Anyone mind telling me why my household has become a farmer's house?" he paused, and when no answer was forthcoming, he turned briefly to Sara, but instead ended up on Stephanos instead. "I'm assuming it had something to do with you, Stephanos? Your father never could get a handle on you." he sniffed, obvious disdain for his own elder brother. Irakles had never really had... much of a relationship with his elder half brother, both having been raised away from each other. And whatever relationship they did have got only more strained over the years, as they disagreed on how a kingdom should be run, or what decisions should be made.
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While he would've liked to say he wasn't a man prone to anger and fits of tempers, Irakles of Mikaelidas was decidedly not a calm man. Oh, in the battlefield and in front of the Senate, the prince put up a very carefully crafted, very calm demeanour. But that was if the people in question did not cross him or try his temper. It was known as an unspoken rule, that if Irakles said something, one did not try and cross him. There was rare few who could try and get him to change his mind, one of them being his brother. But with Zenon, it really was more of a lack of choice kind of thing. Afterall, his brother was the King.
Under his roof however, was an entirely different matter. And did you really expect him to remain calm after he's been used as a dancing stage by a baby goat?
The moment he heard Stephanos's voice, Irakles's eyes flashed with irate anger, although perhaps it was something his nephew wouldn't see, since the kid chose that exact moment to drive it's front hooves in his head, smashing his face against the ground. Had Sara not shooed the goat off him in the next moment, Irakles would likely have started flailing on the ground in an undignified manner with his airflow cut off. As it was, his face had a red mark from where the young goat had drove him in the ground.
Despite not pushing Sara's assistance away as he was prone to do, Irakles was quick to shrug it off the moment he was the right way up and on his feet, quickly dusting off the indignity of being pranced upon.
Finally turning a pair of stern, unamused gaze to the three youngsters, the prince levelled the glare at each of them in turn, Achilleas the last of the three as his son struggled to hold on to the squirming goat. "Contained?" he echoed, his tone dripping in disdain. In turn, his gaze slowly fell upon the soil, broken pottery, and then the horrified face of the servants who had just ran in after hearing the commotion, before turning back to Achilleas again. "I'm afraid you and I have very different meanings of the word, Achilleas." There was no doubt in what Irakles meant - he did not agree with Achilleas's assurance of the 'situation' being contained at all.
"Anyone mind telling me why my household has become a farmer's house?" he paused, and when no answer was forthcoming, he turned briefly to Sara, but instead ended up on Stephanos instead. "I'm assuming it had something to do with you, Stephanos? Your father never could get a handle on you." he sniffed, obvious disdain for his own elder brother. Irakles had never really had... much of a relationship with his elder half brother, both having been raised away from each other. And whatever relationship they did have got only more strained over the years, as they disagreed on how a kingdom should be run, or what decisions should be made.
While he would've liked to say he wasn't a man prone to anger and fits of tempers, Irakles of Mikaelidas was decidedly not a calm man. Oh, in the battlefield and in front of the Senate, the prince put up a very carefully crafted, very calm demeanour. But that was if the people in question did not cross him or try his temper. It was known as an unspoken rule, that if Irakles said something, one did not try and cross him. There was rare few who could try and get him to change his mind, one of them being his brother. But with Zenon, it really was more of a lack of choice kind of thing. Afterall, his brother was the King.
Under his roof however, was an entirely different matter. And did you really expect him to remain calm after he's been used as a dancing stage by a baby goat?
The moment he heard Stephanos's voice, Irakles's eyes flashed with irate anger, although perhaps it was something his nephew wouldn't see, since the kid chose that exact moment to drive it's front hooves in his head, smashing his face against the ground. Had Sara not shooed the goat off him in the next moment, Irakles would likely have started flailing on the ground in an undignified manner with his airflow cut off. As it was, his face had a red mark from where the young goat had drove him in the ground.
Despite not pushing Sara's assistance away as he was prone to do, Irakles was quick to shrug it off the moment he was the right way up and on his feet, quickly dusting off the indignity of being pranced upon.
Finally turning a pair of stern, unamused gaze to the three youngsters, the prince levelled the glare at each of them in turn, Achilleas the last of the three as his son struggled to hold on to the squirming goat. "Contained?" he echoed, his tone dripping in disdain. In turn, his gaze slowly fell upon the soil, broken pottery, and then the horrified face of the servants who had just ran in after hearing the commotion, before turning back to Achilleas again. "I'm afraid you and I have very different meanings of the word, Achilleas." There was no doubt in what Irakles meant - he did not agree with Achilleas's assurance of the 'situation' being contained at all.
"Anyone mind telling me why my household has become a farmer's house?" he paused, and when no answer was forthcoming, he turned briefly to Sara, but instead ended up on Stephanos instead. "I'm assuming it had something to do with you, Stephanos? Your father never could get a handle on you." he sniffed, obvious disdain for his own elder brother. Irakles had never really had... much of a relationship with his elder half brother, both having been raised away from each other. And whatever relationship they did have got only more strained over the years, as they disagreed on how a kingdom should be run, or what decisions should be made.
Sara kept her hands light as she helped her father up, knowing that he would not appreciate being coddled. Once he was on his feet, he brushed her away and she stepped back without protest. Irakles getting involved in all of this was most certainly the worst thing that could have happened, and she found herself wondering if there was a way out of this. Perhaps for herself, if she were inclined to be selfish. Her father was practically dismissing her involvement already -- looking instead at the two young men with only the briefest reproachful glare at her. She wouldn’t though. Even if she had not started it, she would not leave them behind to face the consequences alone.
She glanced at Achilleas as he held the last struggling little goat which was letting out little bleats of rage at being finally captured. It would be lucky to survive the evening, Sara thought with a wince. The youngest tucked her hands behind her back, ensnaring her own wrist as she looked down at the floor. Later this would all make a good story for Alastor, her dear friend who was away studying in Athenia. If they survived this.
She glanced up as if she had felt her father’s stare when he asked who was going to tell him what had happened. It was brief, but she felt her eyes lower again. She was trying to think of a good way to explain it all away without sacrificing anyone to her father’s rage, but she was coming up very very short. What good explanation was there for this? The little goat gave another scream, and Sara flinched, wishing that it would be quiet. It certainly was making things worse by being so persistently loud.
Sara’s weight shifted as Irakles’ ire turned to Stephanos, the disdain in his voice very apparent even for a girl like her. She had always seemed to have cotton stuffed into her ears when it came to her father’s behavior, always giving him the benefit of the doubt. His hand was lighter when it came to her, even just marginally, and she’d so rarely put herself in a position to be scolded like this.
”Father, please.” She said, her voice soft but determined. Her knees were shaking, but she had squared her shoulders and lifted her chin a little. She hated to see anyone get in trouble, even if Stephanos might have deserved it for not thinking of the consequences of his actions. Then again, he probably had not expected it to go so terribly wrong. ”It wasn’t meant to go so far. We will make sure the mess is cleaned.”
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Sara kept her hands light as she helped her father up, knowing that he would not appreciate being coddled. Once he was on his feet, he brushed her away and she stepped back without protest. Irakles getting involved in all of this was most certainly the worst thing that could have happened, and she found herself wondering if there was a way out of this. Perhaps for herself, if she were inclined to be selfish. Her father was practically dismissing her involvement already -- looking instead at the two young men with only the briefest reproachful glare at her. She wouldn’t though. Even if she had not started it, she would not leave them behind to face the consequences alone.
She glanced at Achilleas as he held the last struggling little goat which was letting out little bleats of rage at being finally captured. It would be lucky to survive the evening, Sara thought with a wince. The youngest tucked her hands behind her back, ensnaring her own wrist as she looked down at the floor. Later this would all make a good story for Alastor, her dear friend who was away studying in Athenia. If they survived this.
She glanced up as if she had felt her father’s stare when he asked who was going to tell him what had happened. It was brief, but she felt her eyes lower again. She was trying to think of a good way to explain it all away without sacrificing anyone to her father’s rage, but she was coming up very very short. What good explanation was there for this? The little goat gave another scream, and Sara flinched, wishing that it would be quiet. It certainly was making things worse by being so persistently loud.
Sara’s weight shifted as Irakles’ ire turned to Stephanos, the disdain in his voice very apparent even for a girl like her. She had always seemed to have cotton stuffed into her ears when it came to her father’s behavior, always giving him the benefit of the doubt. His hand was lighter when it came to her, even just marginally, and she’d so rarely put herself in a position to be scolded like this.
”Father, please.” She said, her voice soft but determined. Her knees were shaking, but she had squared her shoulders and lifted her chin a little. She hated to see anyone get in trouble, even if Stephanos might have deserved it for not thinking of the consequences of his actions. Then again, he probably had not expected it to go so terribly wrong. ”It wasn’t meant to go so far. We will make sure the mess is cleaned.”
Sara kept her hands light as she helped her father up, knowing that he would not appreciate being coddled. Once he was on his feet, he brushed her away and she stepped back without protest. Irakles getting involved in all of this was most certainly the worst thing that could have happened, and she found herself wondering if there was a way out of this. Perhaps for herself, if she were inclined to be selfish. Her father was practically dismissing her involvement already -- looking instead at the two young men with only the briefest reproachful glare at her. She wouldn’t though. Even if she had not started it, she would not leave them behind to face the consequences alone.
She glanced at Achilleas as he held the last struggling little goat which was letting out little bleats of rage at being finally captured. It would be lucky to survive the evening, Sara thought with a wince. The youngest tucked her hands behind her back, ensnaring her own wrist as she looked down at the floor. Later this would all make a good story for Alastor, her dear friend who was away studying in Athenia. If they survived this.
She glanced up as if she had felt her father’s stare when he asked who was going to tell him what had happened. It was brief, but she felt her eyes lower again. She was trying to think of a good way to explain it all away without sacrificing anyone to her father’s rage, but she was coming up very very short. What good explanation was there for this? The little goat gave another scream, and Sara flinched, wishing that it would be quiet. It certainly was making things worse by being so persistently loud.
Sara’s weight shifted as Irakles’ ire turned to Stephanos, the disdain in his voice very apparent even for a girl like her. She had always seemed to have cotton stuffed into her ears when it came to her father’s behavior, always giving him the benefit of the doubt. His hand was lighter when it came to her, even just marginally, and she’d so rarely put herself in a position to be scolded like this.
”Father, please.” She said, her voice soft but determined. Her knees were shaking, but she had squared her shoulders and lifted her chin a little. She hated to see anyone get in trouble, even if Stephanos might have deserved it for not thinking of the consequences of his actions. Then again, he probably had not expected it to go so terribly wrong. ”It wasn’t meant to go so far. We will make sure the mess is cleaned.”
It should have been hilarious, the way that the goat kid used the back of Prince Irakles’s head like a springboard to launch itself into the air. The prince’s face, there and then smacked straight into dirt should have sent Stephanos into roukous laughter. The kind he’d been suffering earlier in the hallway right outside Achilleas’s room. Instead, he swallowed hard and tried to remember that this wasn’t life or death. This was just his uncle’s dignity being utterly ruined in the man’s own home over a prank that he had carefully crafted for someone else. Nothing to worry about.
Stephanos wiped his sweating palms on his chiton and shot Sara a look, thinking that she was definitely braver than he was in that moment. He watched his uncle manage to get himself to his feet without another errant goat scampering about. It was alarming to watch each and every particle of dust, save one fall off Irakles’s previously immaculate clothes as the man swished and swiped and patted and pawed to clean himself. One stubborn particle remained in the center of Irakles’s chest and it was there that Stephanos’s eyes remained even as he lifted his chin to indicate he’d heard his uncle speak.
“Contained?”
Inside that single word, a thousand others scattered out in unasked questions that most definitely had expected answers. Where were the goats contained? How were they contained? How many were there? Why were they even there in the first place? What were they doing while they were contained? Were they alive or dead? Did Achilleas really have so little control over his life and the honor of this family that he would even allow such a thing to occur?
Stephanos couldn’t feel his face but he wasn’t sure if that was due to his uncle’s glare searing his skin or his facial muscles being exhausted from too much mirth earlier. It was somehow worse to look at the dirt surrounding the prince at the same time Irkales did. It drove home the point that it shouldn’t have been there. That even though it was easily swept up, easily cleaned, and, of course that wouldn’t be done by the four of them. It shouldn’t have been there at all. Someone else would have just fussed, possibly railed at the three of them, and gone about his business. This was the job of servants to clean. But Irakles wouldn’t do that. He’d probably scare the dirt into picking itself up.
“I'm afraid you and I have very different meanings of the word, Achilleas.”
Stephanos winced for Achilleas, wishing harder than he’d ever done that he’d at least have done this prank in Euttica. Obviously his aunt would have born this more gracefully.
“Anyone mind telling me why my household has become a farmer's house?”
No was probably not an appropriate answer to that question. Irakles didn’t seem to think silence was acceptable either and Stephanos straightened, shoulders squared back when he was directly addressed.
“I'm assuming it had something to do with you, Stephanos?”
“Yes, sir.”
”Your father never could get a handle on you.”
“No, sir.”
”Father, please.” Sara’s voice might have been a raindrop in a swift river, but Stephanos’s attention diverted to her immediately. ”It wasn’t meant to go so far. We will make sure the mess is cleaned.” That was sweet that she thought so. Stephanos had absolutely hoped the goat kids would get out of the room. He just had gotten his weeks crossed about when his uncle would be out of town. So...bad clerical error on his part. He’d need to talk to the palati scribe about that.
“If you close your eyes,” Stephanos offered and dared to reach out and pick the last fleck of dirt off Irakles’s chiton. “It’s like the mess doesn’t exist.” If he was going to be murdered over some goats, first by his uncle, and then by his father, and then by his big brother, he figured that he ought to at least milk this part for all the story it would give him later.
“I’m sure a bath would do you wonders, General.” Stephanos gestured to his hair. “Clear your...mind.” And the dirt still clinging to Irakles’s dark locks. “So...we’re...going to go clear this...now.” He had slaughtered men on the field of battle. He’d nearly died on the circus track during a chariot race. He’d been caught in bed with a man’s wife and nearly not made it out of the window in time. But never, never had he felt like his knees were turning to water more so than in this moment, as he stood arrow straight, smiling blandly at his uncle like he wasn’t ready to run in any available direction. Breathe. In through the nose, out through the nose. Slowly. He can’t kill you with his eyes. ...probably.
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It should have been hilarious, the way that the goat kid used the back of Prince Irakles’s head like a springboard to launch itself into the air. The prince’s face, there and then smacked straight into dirt should have sent Stephanos into roukous laughter. The kind he’d been suffering earlier in the hallway right outside Achilleas’s room. Instead, he swallowed hard and tried to remember that this wasn’t life or death. This was just his uncle’s dignity being utterly ruined in the man’s own home over a prank that he had carefully crafted for someone else. Nothing to worry about.
Stephanos wiped his sweating palms on his chiton and shot Sara a look, thinking that she was definitely braver than he was in that moment. He watched his uncle manage to get himself to his feet without another errant goat scampering about. It was alarming to watch each and every particle of dust, save one fall off Irakles’s previously immaculate clothes as the man swished and swiped and patted and pawed to clean himself. One stubborn particle remained in the center of Irakles’s chest and it was there that Stephanos’s eyes remained even as he lifted his chin to indicate he’d heard his uncle speak.
“Contained?”
Inside that single word, a thousand others scattered out in unasked questions that most definitely had expected answers. Where were the goats contained? How were they contained? How many were there? Why were they even there in the first place? What were they doing while they were contained? Were they alive or dead? Did Achilleas really have so little control over his life and the honor of this family that he would even allow such a thing to occur?
Stephanos couldn’t feel his face but he wasn’t sure if that was due to his uncle’s glare searing his skin or his facial muscles being exhausted from too much mirth earlier. It was somehow worse to look at the dirt surrounding the prince at the same time Irkales did. It drove home the point that it shouldn’t have been there. That even though it was easily swept up, easily cleaned, and, of course that wouldn’t be done by the four of them. It shouldn’t have been there at all. Someone else would have just fussed, possibly railed at the three of them, and gone about his business. This was the job of servants to clean. But Irakles wouldn’t do that. He’d probably scare the dirt into picking itself up.
“I'm afraid you and I have very different meanings of the word, Achilleas.”
Stephanos winced for Achilleas, wishing harder than he’d ever done that he’d at least have done this prank in Euttica. Obviously his aunt would have born this more gracefully.
“Anyone mind telling me why my household has become a farmer's house?”
No was probably not an appropriate answer to that question. Irakles didn’t seem to think silence was acceptable either and Stephanos straightened, shoulders squared back when he was directly addressed.
“I'm assuming it had something to do with you, Stephanos?”
“Yes, sir.”
”Your father never could get a handle on you.”
“No, sir.”
”Father, please.” Sara’s voice might have been a raindrop in a swift river, but Stephanos’s attention diverted to her immediately. ”It wasn’t meant to go so far. We will make sure the mess is cleaned.” That was sweet that she thought so. Stephanos had absolutely hoped the goat kids would get out of the room. He just had gotten his weeks crossed about when his uncle would be out of town. So...bad clerical error on his part. He’d need to talk to the palati scribe about that.
“If you close your eyes,” Stephanos offered and dared to reach out and pick the last fleck of dirt off Irakles’s chiton. “It’s like the mess doesn’t exist.” If he was going to be murdered over some goats, first by his uncle, and then by his father, and then by his big brother, he figured that he ought to at least milk this part for all the story it would give him later.
“I’m sure a bath would do you wonders, General.” Stephanos gestured to his hair. “Clear your...mind.” And the dirt still clinging to Irakles’s dark locks. “So...we’re...going to go clear this...now.” He had slaughtered men on the field of battle. He’d nearly died on the circus track during a chariot race. He’d been caught in bed with a man’s wife and nearly not made it out of the window in time. But never, never had he felt like his knees were turning to water more so than in this moment, as he stood arrow straight, smiling blandly at his uncle like he wasn’t ready to run in any available direction. Breathe. In through the nose, out through the nose. Slowly. He can’t kill you with his eyes. ...probably.
It should have been hilarious, the way that the goat kid used the back of Prince Irakles’s head like a springboard to launch itself into the air. The prince’s face, there and then smacked straight into dirt should have sent Stephanos into roukous laughter. The kind he’d been suffering earlier in the hallway right outside Achilleas’s room. Instead, he swallowed hard and tried to remember that this wasn’t life or death. This was just his uncle’s dignity being utterly ruined in the man’s own home over a prank that he had carefully crafted for someone else. Nothing to worry about.
Stephanos wiped his sweating palms on his chiton and shot Sara a look, thinking that she was definitely braver than he was in that moment. He watched his uncle manage to get himself to his feet without another errant goat scampering about. It was alarming to watch each and every particle of dust, save one fall off Irakles’s previously immaculate clothes as the man swished and swiped and patted and pawed to clean himself. One stubborn particle remained in the center of Irakles’s chest and it was there that Stephanos’s eyes remained even as he lifted his chin to indicate he’d heard his uncle speak.
“Contained?”
Inside that single word, a thousand others scattered out in unasked questions that most definitely had expected answers. Where were the goats contained? How were they contained? How many were there? Why were they even there in the first place? What were they doing while they were contained? Were they alive or dead? Did Achilleas really have so little control over his life and the honor of this family that he would even allow such a thing to occur?
Stephanos couldn’t feel his face but he wasn’t sure if that was due to his uncle’s glare searing his skin or his facial muscles being exhausted from too much mirth earlier. It was somehow worse to look at the dirt surrounding the prince at the same time Irkales did. It drove home the point that it shouldn’t have been there. That even though it was easily swept up, easily cleaned, and, of course that wouldn’t be done by the four of them. It shouldn’t have been there at all. Someone else would have just fussed, possibly railed at the three of them, and gone about his business. This was the job of servants to clean. But Irakles wouldn’t do that. He’d probably scare the dirt into picking itself up.
“I'm afraid you and I have very different meanings of the word, Achilleas.”
Stephanos winced for Achilleas, wishing harder than he’d ever done that he’d at least have done this prank in Euttica. Obviously his aunt would have born this more gracefully.
“Anyone mind telling me why my household has become a farmer's house?”
No was probably not an appropriate answer to that question. Irakles didn’t seem to think silence was acceptable either and Stephanos straightened, shoulders squared back when he was directly addressed.
“I'm assuming it had something to do with you, Stephanos?”
“Yes, sir.”
”Your father never could get a handle on you.”
“No, sir.”
”Father, please.” Sara’s voice might have been a raindrop in a swift river, but Stephanos’s attention diverted to her immediately. ”It wasn’t meant to go so far. We will make sure the mess is cleaned.” That was sweet that she thought so. Stephanos had absolutely hoped the goat kids would get out of the room. He just had gotten his weeks crossed about when his uncle would be out of town. So...bad clerical error on his part. He’d need to talk to the palati scribe about that.
“If you close your eyes,” Stephanos offered and dared to reach out and pick the last fleck of dirt off Irakles’s chiton. “It’s like the mess doesn’t exist.” If he was going to be murdered over some goats, first by his uncle, and then by his father, and then by his big brother, he figured that he ought to at least milk this part for all the story it would give him later.
“I’m sure a bath would do you wonders, General.” Stephanos gestured to his hair. “Clear your...mind.” And the dirt still clinging to Irakles’s dark locks. “So...we’re...going to go clear this...now.” He had slaughtered men on the field of battle. He’d nearly died on the circus track during a chariot race. He’d been caught in bed with a man’s wife and nearly not made it out of the window in time. But never, never had he felt like his knees were turning to water more so than in this moment, as he stood arrow straight, smiling blandly at his uncle like he wasn’t ready to run in any available direction. Breathe. In through the nose, out through the nose. Slowly. He can’t kill you with his eyes. ...probably.
There was no possible way this was going to end in anything but unpleasantness now. From the moment his father’s voice had echoed through the archontiko, any amusement Achilleas might have found in his cousin’s prank had fallen away, replaced with the sinking feeling in his stomach that he was going to be found at fault, again. With the outraged goat kid wrapped in his arms, Achilleas didn’t outwardly falter under the unimpressed glare levelled at him by the retired General, but at the derisive echo of his own words, there was the flicker of a muscle in his jaw as he ground his teeth together. He kept his gaze resolutely forward as his father made a show of looking around at the evidence of destruction though he was minutely aware of the man’s movements.
And when he felt the weight of the man’s regard fall on him again he’d already steeled himself for whatever would come next so there was nothing save the show draw of breath to show how the words had landed. He decided against pointing out that there were at least half a dozen more goats who were very well contained, thank you very much, because somehow he didn't think it would make the situation any better for any of them.
“A poor choice of words, sir. I meant only that it’s being dealt with”
He didn’t know why he bothered trying to mount a defence, not when the disapproval was already layered thick and claggy about them. He was certain that it wouldn’t be the last he heard of it either.
Was it terrible that he felt a slight sag of relief when his father’s ire was switched to his cousin instead of him? Probably. Readjusting his grip on the goat which he wished he could be rid of as it was such an obvious reminder of the situation, Achilleas glanced at Sara from the corner of his eye and gave the tiniest shake of his head. Better she just let the man blow off his steam, there would be no reasoning with him until he had. Or, Achilleas amended the thought, there was not really any reasoning to be done.
Noticing to his horror that Stephanos was actually reaching to touch the General, the goat kid gave a bleat of distress where Achilleas’ grip had tightened and he made himself relax a little though he thought his cousin was an idiot or a hero. Perhaps both. Achilleas swallowed and attempted to regain some control of the situation.
“Stephanos is right. Don’t trouble yourself, my Prince. I’ll ensure everything is put back as it should be. Cleon is already removing the..it’s being dealt with”
It was perhaps unfortunate that at that precise moment, the young groom who had been summoned to assist in the relocation of the goat kids came barrelling around the corner in pursuit of one such creature which was dragging a scrap of vividly coloured fabric. And worse, that when his gaze alighted on the General that he skidded to a halt and stared wide-eyed, leaving the goat to trot onwards, chewing happily on its prize.
“ P..pp..pardon m’lord. That one was in her ladyships chambers. But its the last of em sir”
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There was no possible way this was going to end in anything but unpleasantness now. From the moment his father’s voice had echoed through the archontiko, any amusement Achilleas might have found in his cousin’s prank had fallen away, replaced with the sinking feeling in his stomach that he was going to be found at fault, again. With the outraged goat kid wrapped in his arms, Achilleas didn’t outwardly falter under the unimpressed glare levelled at him by the retired General, but at the derisive echo of his own words, there was the flicker of a muscle in his jaw as he ground his teeth together. He kept his gaze resolutely forward as his father made a show of looking around at the evidence of destruction though he was minutely aware of the man’s movements.
And when he felt the weight of the man’s regard fall on him again he’d already steeled himself for whatever would come next so there was nothing save the show draw of breath to show how the words had landed. He decided against pointing out that there were at least half a dozen more goats who were very well contained, thank you very much, because somehow he didn't think it would make the situation any better for any of them.
“A poor choice of words, sir. I meant only that it’s being dealt with”
He didn’t know why he bothered trying to mount a defence, not when the disapproval was already layered thick and claggy about them. He was certain that it wouldn’t be the last he heard of it either.
Was it terrible that he felt a slight sag of relief when his father’s ire was switched to his cousin instead of him? Probably. Readjusting his grip on the goat which he wished he could be rid of as it was such an obvious reminder of the situation, Achilleas glanced at Sara from the corner of his eye and gave the tiniest shake of his head. Better she just let the man blow off his steam, there would be no reasoning with him until he had. Or, Achilleas amended the thought, there was not really any reasoning to be done.
Noticing to his horror that Stephanos was actually reaching to touch the General, the goat kid gave a bleat of distress where Achilleas’ grip had tightened and he made himself relax a little though he thought his cousin was an idiot or a hero. Perhaps both. Achilleas swallowed and attempted to regain some control of the situation.
“Stephanos is right. Don’t trouble yourself, my Prince. I’ll ensure everything is put back as it should be. Cleon is already removing the..it’s being dealt with”
It was perhaps unfortunate that at that precise moment, the young groom who had been summoned to assist in the relocation of the goat kids came barrelling around the corner in pursuit of one such creature which was dragging a scrap of vividly coloured fabric. And worse, that when his gaze alighted on the General that he skidded to a halt and stared wide-eyed, leaving the goat to trot onwards, chewing happily on its prize.
“ P..pp..pardon m’lord. That one was in her ladyships chambers. But its the last of em sir”
There was no possible way this was going to end in anything but unpleasantness now. From the moment his father’s voice had echoed through the archontiko, any amusement Achilleas might have found in his cousin’s prank had fallen away, replaced with the sinking feeling in his stomach that he was going to be found at fault, again. With the outraged goat kid wrapped in his arms, Achilleas didn’t outwardly falter under the unimpressed glare levelled at him by the retired General, but at the derisive echo of his own words, there was the flicker of a muscle in his jaw as he ground his teeth together. He kept his gaze resolutely forward as his father made a show of looking around at the evidence of destruction though he was minutely aware of the man’s movements.
And when he felt the weight of the man’s regard fall on him again he’d already steeled himself for whatever would come next so there was nothing save the show draw of breath to show how the words had landed. He decided against pointing out that there were at least half a dozen more goats who were very well contained, thank you very much, because somehow he didn't think it would make the situation any better for any of them.
“A poor choice of words, sir. I meant only that it’s being dealt with”
He didn’t know why he bothered trying to mount a defence, not when the disapproval was already layered thick and claggy about them. He was certain that it wouldn’t be the last he heard of it either.
Was it terrible that he felt a slight sag of relief when his father’s ire was switched to his cousin instead of him? Probably. Readjusting his grip on the goat which he wished he could be rid of as it was such an obvious reminder of the situation, Achilleas glanced at Sara from the corner of his eye and gave the tiniest shake of his head. Better she just let the man blow off his steam, there would be no reasoning with him until he had. Or, Achilleas amended the thought, there was not really any reasoning to be done.
Noticing to his horror that Stephanos was actually reaching to touch the General, the goat kid gave a bleat of distress where Achilleas’ grip had tightened and he made himself relax a little though he thought his cousin was an idiot or a hero. Perhaps both. Achilleas swallowed and attempted to regain some control of the situation.
“Stephanos is right. Don’t trouble yourself, my Prince. I’ll ensure everything is put back as it should be. Cleon is already removing the..it’s being dealt with”
It was perhaps unfortunate that at that precise moment, the young groom who had been summoned to assist in the relocation of the goat kids came barrelling around the corner in pursuit of one such creature which was dragging a scrap of vividly coloured fabric. And worse, that when his gaze alighted on the General that he skidded to a halt and stared wide-eyed, leaving the goat to trot onwards, chewing happily on its prize.
“ P..pp..pardon m’lord. That one was in her ladyships chambers. But its the last of em sir”