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Elias had been riding on the grounds of the palati when he had gotten the news. Reports of a fire in Aetaea that he feigned enough surprise at in the moment of declaration yet kept his head enough to present the image of an in-control future-monarch. He had known that Rafail was going to Aetaea. He had ordered him to. He had told the man that if he had to burn the place to the ground to find Persephone then that was exactly what he should do. With every tree that was turned to cinders he took back his revenge on more than one pretty woman after all. He cared nothing for what happened to the lands or those that lived upon them. They could move, they could live elsewhere and work other fields. Thesnia was always looking for more hands. The only true sufferer in the loss of that province would be the family that ruled it. And the bitch queen that was hiding there.
It had felt like a perfect master stroke in delivering justice upon all who had been a burr in his side these past few months. All who had upset the natural order of things and insisted on ruining the inheritance and structure of the kingdom. He had been set to be king, he had been in some form of triste with the Lady Iris. He had been content in his future and his world. And then the two of them, as women did, had turned and fucked it all up with their capricious nature and their arrogant, lofty ambitions for something that wasn't theirs.
Having now moved into the palati under the excuse of now being betrothed to the Princess Emilia, Elias had stabled his own horse in the grounds and liked to take him out for a ride on occasion. Most particularly when the piles of documentation and clay tablets piled upon his desk as self-proclaimed regent and overseer. He hadn't had the time to think let alone make the entire system more efficient in regards to what should be coming to him for authorisation and what could be handled by their own baron. Apparently, King Minas and his daughter had applied a system of hovering, checking over the shoulder of every noble and royal like they were an over cautious parent. It was patronising, demeaning and it wasn't necessary. And Elias would see to it changing just as soon as he had a moment.
In the middle of his hour's right, Elias noted the running of a serving hands towards him over the grounds. The man was lucky that he had been completing his circuit and returning to the grounds of the estate or he would have had much further to run but he appeared out of breath all the same. He huffed and puffed as he tried to retain an appearance of calm decorum before the man who, for all intents and purposes, ruled the kingdom.
"My... My Lord." He flailed a pointing finger back towards the palace buildings. "Lord Rafail has arrived to see you. He says it is urgent."
At last!
Elias didn't wait to respond, nor to offer the servant some kind of aid in getting back to the palace. Instead, he simply dug his heels into the sides of his steed and set himself at a quick pace back towards the stables. He was quick to approach the personal gardens of the estate, ready to skim around the outer edge and towards the stables to the west, when he spotted Rafail himself amongst the flower beds, clearly being determined to meet Elias half way.
Redirecting his horse, Elias turned towards his friend. A smile came upon his face as the animal slowed to a trot and then to a walk. There was a happy tilt to his head.
"Tell me good news, my brother!" He called to Rafail as he approached. He trusted none as much as he did his best friend and knew that he could not have failed him in securing Persephone's death and thereby placing the throne and crown into Elias' own hands.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Elias had been riding on the grounds of the palati when he had gotten the news. Reports of a fire in Aetaea that he feigned enough surprise at in the moment of declaration yet kept his head enough to present the image of an in-control future-monarch. He had known that Rafail was going to Aetaea. He had ordered him to. He had told the man that if he had to burn the place to the ground to find Persephone then that was exactly what he should do. With every tree that was turned to cinders he took back his revenge on more than one pretty woman after all. He cared nothing for what happened to the lands or those that lived upon them. They could move, they could live elsewhere and work other fields. Thesnia was always looking for more hands. The only true sufferer in the loss of that province would be the family that ruled it. And the bitch queen that was hiding there.
It had felt like a perfect master stroke in delivering justice upon all who had been a burr in his side these past few months. All who had upset the natural order of things and insisted on ruining the inheritance and structure of the kingdom. He had been set to be king, he had been in some form of triste with the Lady Iris. He had been content in his future and his world. And then the two of them, as women did, had turned and fucked it all up with their capricious nature and their arrogant, lofty ambitions for something that wasn't theirs.
Having now moved into the palati under the excuse of now being betrothed to the Princess Emilia, Elias had stabled his own horse in the grounds and liked to take him out for a ride on occasion. Most particularly when the piles of documentation and clay tablets piled upon his desk as self-proclaimed regent and overseer. He hadn't had the time to think let alone make the entire system more efficient in regards to what should be coming to him for authorisation and what could be handled by their own baron. Apparently, King Minas and his daughter had applied a system of hovering, checking over the shoulder of every noble and royal like they were an over cautious parent. It was patronising, demeaning and it wasn't necessary. And Elias would see to it changing just as soon as he had a moment.
In the middle of his hour's right, Elias noted the running of a serving hands towards him over the grounds. The man was lucky that he had been completing his circuit and returning to the grounds of the estate or he would have had much further to run but he appeared out of breath all the same. He huffed and puffed as he tried to retain an appearance of calm decorum before the man who, for all intents and purposes, ruled the kingdom.
"My... My Lord." He flailed a pointing finger back towards the palace buildings. "Lord Rafail has arrived to see you. He says it is urgent."
At last!
Elias didn't wait to respond, nor to offer the servant some kind of aid in getting back to the palace. Instead, he simply dug his heels into the sides of his steed and set himself at a quick pace back towards the stables. He was quick to approach the personal gardens of the estate, ready to skim around the outer edge and towards the stables to the west, when he spotted Rafail himself amongst the flower beds, clearly being determined to meet Elias half way.
Redirecting his horse, Elias turned towards his friend. A smile came upon his face as the animal slowed to a trot and then to a walk. There was a happy tilt to his head.
"Tell me good news, my brother!" He called to Rafail as he approached. He trusted none as much as he did his best friend and knew that he could not have failed him in securing Persephone's death and thereby placing the throne and crown into Elias' own hands.
Elias had been riding on the grounds of the palati when he had gotten the news. Reports of a fire in Aetaea that he feigned enough surprise at in the moment of declaration yet kept his head enough to present the image of an in-control future-monarch. He had known that Rafail was going to Aetaea. He had ordered him to. He had told the man that if he had to burn the place to the ground to find Persephone then that was exactly what he should do. With every tree that was turned to cinders he took back his revenge on more than one pretty woman after all. He cared nothing for what happened to the lands or those that lived upon them. They could move, they could live elsewhere and work other fields. Thesnia was always looking for more hands. The only true sufferer in the loss of that province would be the family that ruled it. And the bitch queen that was hiding there.
It had felt like a perfect master stroke in delivering justice upon all who had been a burr in his side these past few months. All who had upset the natural order of things and insisted on ruining the inheritance and structure of the kingdom. He had been set to be king, he had been in some form of triste with the Lady Iris. He had been content in his future and his world. And then the two of them, as women did, had turned and fucked it all up with their capricious nature and their arrogant, lofty ambitions for something that wasn't theirs.
Having now moved into the palati under the excuse of now being betrothed to the Princess Emilia, Elias had stabled his own horse in the grounds and liked to take him out for a ride on occasion. Most particularly when the piles of documentation and clay tablets piled upon his desk as self-proclaimed regent and overseer. He hadn't had the time to think let alone make the entire system more efficient in regards to what should be coming to him for authorisation and what could be handled by their own baron. Apparently, King Minas and his daughter had applied a system of hovering, checking over the shoulder of every noble and royal like they were an over cautious parent. It was patronising, demeaning and it wasn't necessary. And Elias would see to it changing just as soon as he had a moment.
In the middle of his hour's right, Elias noted the running of a serving hands towards him over the grounds. The man was lucky that he had been completing his circuit and returning to the grounds of the estate or he would have had much further to run but he appeared out of breath all the same. He huffed and puffed as he tried to retain an appearance of calm decorum before the man who, for all intents and purposes, ruled the kingdom.
"My... My Lord." He flailed a pointing finger back towards the palace buildings. "Lord Rafail has arrived to see you. He says it is urgent."
At last!
Elias didn't wait to respond, nor to offer the servant some kind of aid in getting back to the palace. Instead, he simply dug his heels into the sides of his steed and set himself at a quick pace back towards the stables. He was quick to approach the personal gardens of the estate, ready to skim around the outer edge and towards the stables to the west, when he spotted Rafail himself amongst the flower beds, clearly being determined to meet Elias half way.
Redirecting his horse, Elias turned towards his friend. A smile came upon his face as the animal slowed to a trot and then to a walk. There was a happy tilt to his head.
"Tell me good news, my brother!" He called to Rafail as he approached. He trusted none as much as he did his best friend and knew that he could not have failed him in securing Persephone's death and thereby placing the throne and crown into Elias' own hands.
The plan, so far as Rafail had been concerned, had not been complicated. He had only had to ride out to Aetaea with some of his men and burn the place to the ground which, in theory, was an easy matter. The place was a forest, and there was little more straightforward to burn than a tree. The fire should have spread and taken the baron’s home, and all those residing within should have perished. Perhaps a servant or two, lingering in the courtyard or tending to the beasts in the stables might have survived, but those huddled within the inner chambers of the home would not. Something, however, had gone wrong. Somehow, almost inexplicably, the royal party had managed to escape, and when the lord had sent his men in to check for Persephone’s body, it had not been there. Rafail had failed in his task and, rather than feel humiliated over the event, he was rather more furious.
There was no doubt that the man had been sabotaged.
Of course, he had his suspicions (the Marikas lord was not as unintelligent as plenty assumed). At first, Rafail had thought that one of his men might have been responsible for the crime, but he had checked their handiwork himself. He had considered the possibility that some sycophantic servant might have spotted the flames and rushed to find Persephone as soon as possible, but they surely could not have acted with enough speed to inform her before the spread had become significantly life-threatening. Thus, the blonde-haired man had concluded that there was only one individual for which he could not account, and that was his uncle. Why the man had been present was a mystery to him, but he was the only possibility Rafail could see.
It would not exactly be an easy matter to raise with Elias, but, then again, no part of the report of his failure was likely to be simple. They may well have been close friends, but even that title did not excuse the possibility of fury.
He had rushed to the palace as soon as possible after the incident, even neglecting to stop off at his family home beforehand as he would typically have done after returning from any ordinary trip - not that this was ordinary. Arion had been left at the entrance with a request that one of the servants walk the stallion back to the Marikas estate, since the distance was barely significant and he did not need to concern himself with a return journey anyhow, assuming the temporary residency within the palace that Elias had granted him was not over after this catastrophe. Rafail had ordered one of the flittering servants to fetch his friend, adding a note that it was an urgent matter and he did not care if the man was riding or occupied with some other activity, though he was far from patient enough himself to wait for the man to complete his task. It was only after a moment of tapping his sandal imperiously on the marbled flooring that he grew bored of the wait and, thinking the topic too sensitive to hold off even another few minutes, had decided to make his own way outside to find his cousin.
It did not take long, which was ideal, because Rafail did not want to dwell on his words for very long.
Good news. Good news was perhaps the complete opposite of what the Marikas had, for it was neither ‘good’ nor ‘new’, in that they had only returned to being oblivious to Persephone’s whereabouts. He made no attempts to replicate the smile that Elias wore on his features, a frown painted across his own. It was lucky, really, that they were friends, else Rafail did not believe this conversation would end well for him.
“I cannot,” he admitted, with far less difficulty than he had thought it would take. “Something happened.” Obviously. It was a stupid statement, but the man did not quite know what else to say, taking the time to find each word as he crossed his arms in a thinly veiled attempt to hide his discomfort. It was not often that Rafail had to admit to error. “I had my men search the property, but they found no body that could be hers. She must have escaped, but I do not know how, bar sabotage. Someone must have known and warned her.” He hesitated, biting his lip as if uncertain whether he wanted to finish his assumption. “Uncle Keikelius is the only man for which I could not account.”
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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The plan, so far as Rafail had been concerned, had not been complicated. He had only had to ride out to Aetaea with some of his men and burn the place to the ground which, in theory, was an easy matter. The place was a forest, and there was little more straightforward to burn than a tree. The fire should have spread and taken the baron’s home, and all those residing within should have perished. Perhaps a servant or two, lingering in the courtyard or tending to the beasts in the stables might have survived, but those huddled within the inner chambers of the home would not. Something, however, had gone wrong. Somehow, almost inexplicably, the royal party had managed to escape, and when the lord had sent his men in to check for Persephone’s body, it had not been there. Rafail had failed in his task and, rather than feel humiliated over the event, he was rather more furious.
There was no doubt that the man had been sabotaged.
Of course, he had his suspicions (the Marikas lord was not as unintelligent as plenty assumed). At first, Rafail had thought that one of his men might have been responsible for the crime, but he had checked their handiwork himself. He had considered the possibility that some sycophantic servant might have spotted the flames and rushed to find Persephone as soon as possible, but they surely could not have acted with enough speed to inform her before the spread had become significantly life-threatening. Thus, the blonde-haired man had concluded that there was only one individual for which he could not account, and that was his uncle. Why the man had been present was a mystery to him, but he was the only possibility Rafail could see.
It would not exactly be an easy matter to raise with Elias, but, then again, no part of the report of his failure was likely to be simple. They may well have been close friends, but even that title did not excuse the possibility of fury.
He had rushed to the palace as soon as possible after the incident, even neglecting to stop off at his family home beforehand as he would typically have done after returning from any ordinary trip - not that this was ordinary. Arion had been left at the entrance with a request that one of the servants walk the stallion back to the Marikas estate, since the distance was barely significant and he did not need to concern himself with a return journey anyhow, assuming the temporary residency within the palace that Elias had granted him was not over after this catastrophe. Rafail had ordered one of the flittering servants to fetch his friend, adding a note that it was an urgent matter and he did not care if the man was riding or occupied with some other activity, though he was far from patient enough himself to wait for the man to complete his task. It was only after a moment of tapping his sandal imperiously on the marbled flooring that he grew bored of the wait and, thinking the topic too sensitive to hold off even another few minutes, had decided to make his own way outside to find his cousin.
It did not take long, which was ideal, because Rafail did not want to dwell on his words for very long.
Good news. Good news was perhaps the complete opposite of what the Marikas had, for it was neither ‘good’ nor ‘new’, in that they had only returned to being oblivious to Persephone’s whereabouts. He made no attempts to replicate the smile that Elias wore on his features, a frown painted across his own. It was lucky, really, that they were friends, else Rafail did not believe this conversation would end well for him.
“I cannot,” he admitted, with far less difficulty than he had thought it would take. “Something happened.” Obviously. It was a stupid statement, but the man did not quite know what else to say, taking the time to find each word as he crossed his arms in a thinly veiled attempt to hide his discomfort. It was not often that Rafail had to admit to error. “I had my men search the property, but they found no body that could be hers. She must have escaped, but I do not know how, bar sabotage. Someone must have known and warned her.” He hesitated, biting his lip as if uncertain whether he wanted to finish his assumption. “Uncle Keikelius is the only man for which I could not account.”
The plan, so far as Rafail had been concerned, had not been complicated. He had only had to ride out to Aetaea with some of his men and burn the place to the ground which, in theory, was an easy matter. The place was a forest, and there was little more straightforward to burn than a tree. The fire should have spread and taken the baron’s home, and all those residing within should have perished. Perhaps a servant or two, lingering in the courtyard or tending to the beasts in the stables might have survived, but those huddled within the inner chambers of the home would not. Something, however, had gone wrong. Somehow, almost inexplicably, the royal party had managed to escape, and when the lord had sent his men in to check for Persephone’s body, it had not been there. Rafail had failed in his task and, rather than feel humiliated over the event, he was rather more furious.
There was no doubt that the man had been sabotaged.
Of course, he had his suspicions (the Marikas lord was not as unintelligent as plenty assumed). At first, Rafail had thought that one of his men might have been responsible for the crime, but he had checked their handiwork himself. He had considered the possibility that some sycophantic servant might have spotted the flames and rushed to find Persephone as soon as possible, but they surely could not have acted with enough speed to inform her before the spread had become significantly life-threatening. Thus, the blonde-haired man had concluded that there was only one individual for which he could not account, and that was his uncle. Why the man had been present was a mystery to him, but he was the only possibility Rafail could see.
It would not exactly be an easy matter to raise with Elias, but, then again, no part of the report of his failure was likely to be simple. They may well have been close friends, but even that title did not excuse the possibility of fury.
He had rushed to the palace as soon as possible after the incident, even neglecting to stop off at his family home beforehand as he would typically have done after returning from any ordinary trip - not that this was ordinary. Arion had been left at the entrance with a request that one of the servants walk the stallion back to the Marikas estate, since the distance was barely significant and he did not need to concern himself with a return journey anyhow, assuming the temporary residency within the palace that Elias had granted him was not over after this catastrophe. Rafail had ordered one of the flittering servants to fetch his friend, adding a note that it was an urgent matter and he did not care if the man was riding or occupied with some other activity, though he was far from patient enough himself to wait for the man to complete his task. It was only after a moment of tapping his sandal imperiously on the marbled flooring that he grew bored of the wait and, thinking the topic too sensitive to hold off even another few minutes, had decided to make his own way outside to find his cousin.
It did not take long, which was ideal, because Rafail did not want to dwell on his words for very long.
Good news. Good news was perhaps the complete opposite of what the Marikas had, for it was neither ‘good’ nor ‘new’, in that they had only returned to being oblivious to Persephone’s whereabouts. He made no attempts to replicate the smile that Elias wore on his features, a frown painted across his own. It was lucky, really, that they were friends, else Rafail did not believe this conversation would end well for him.
“I cannot,” he admitted, with far less difficulty than he had thought it would take. “Something happened.” Obviously. It was a stupid statement, but the man did not quite know what else to say, taking the time to find each word as he crossed his arms in a thinly veiled attempt to hide his discomfort. It was not often that Rafail had to admit to error. “I had my men search the property, but they found no body that could be hers. She must have escaped, but I do not know how, bar sabotage. Someone must have known and warned her.” He hesitated, biting his lip as if uncertain whether he wanted to finish his assumption. “Uncle Keikelius is the only man for which I could not account.”