The trip between Colchis and Taengea had been long. In more ways than one. For one thing, the journey was the longest trip between kingdoms that could be made within Greece. Vangelis was fully aware that such a journey was twice the cost to his life than any trip made to Athenia or to the North. And his frequenting of such visits meant that this one - the journey he made far less often than the others - dragged its duplicate length to move at an almost sluggish pace.

Then, there was the company he kept while in close quarters on the boat. Vangelis was not a social man by nature and he was even less comfortable - or rather, less at ease and himself - when around women. To be in a confined space for two weeks with nothing but (discounting the sailors) had been a test of his patience and fortitude. Not because he would have ever snapped at his sister, their cousin or the women that accompanied them - he would have been far more likely to have thrown himself overboard to avoid the idle gossip and chatter of feminine nonsense than he would ever be to talk down to his youngest sibling and her companions... But it did mean that by the end of his journey across the Aegean, Vangelis' mind was far more tired than his body. Exhausted, even in how furtively he had worked to drown out his surroundings when in the company of the young girls.

Vangelis respected his sister. There was nothing to be doubted there. He just had zero interest the innocent perspective she had on the world at her age. Other than to ensure it remained in place. Vangelis wanted no part in removing that rosy hue with which she saw her surroundings - it would happen slowly enough on its own - but he also struggled to indulge it when he knew it to be so false to reality.

To compound this problem were the conversations Vangelis had had with both his sister and her handmaiden. Apparently, somewhere down the line, his brother Zanon had placed an advertisement to his back that read "relationship counsellor" and both girls had come to him in their own time and space and questioned his thoughts on their particular beaus. Not that he was likely to be of much help on the subject - the asked nonetheless.

After awkward chatter and blunt opinion - guess which came from which party - Vangelis had left the girls to natter between themselves for most of the rest of the journey. He had not yet spoken with his sister Asia regarding her responsibilities to soon grow up and accept the expectations of her gender and rank. He had been going to... whilst they were away from prying eyes at sea. But the conversation had never turned that way and the last thing Vangelis wanted to do was bring it up in abrupt conversation (as he was sure to do) and make his determined and wilful sister feel under attack. A defensive Asia was not one who listened, in his experience.

Plus, he had also reasoned with himself that the presence of the Leventi girls - whom they were now going to see before, rather than after, the Dimitrous - would present a useful image of exactly how a royal and elegant lady should behave. Asia had had limited interaction with the other women of court and there was little he could do to trounce such ladies before her in a parade. The Leventi House, however, seemed made of nothing but women with the appropriate lessons in etiquette and decorum.

And if his experiences with Selene were anything to go by, such teachings ensured that they came across as elegant rather than prissy, dignified over submissive... and strong over weak. He knew his sister was eager to balk at the connotations connected with being a princess for she feared being weak in the eyes of her brothers. Such a House might prevail on her that femininity was not synonymous with weakness. And perhaps then he would broach the subject with her on the return journey or at the next available opportunity.

Then again, perhaps he was just avoiding having the conversation at all. Vangelis was not one for fear, but he was a tactician and he never entered into an impossible battle.

As the ship pulled into the Taengean harbour, Vangelis had a strong sense of dejavu but it felt all wrong.

He had been here, at the front of a ship, not a few months prior and attending to Taengea in a time of great celebration. The streets had been rampant with feet - some skipping, some running, some dancing; but all hurrying about their business. The streets themselves had been supporting branches and wreaths of ivy and fresh flowers... wine had flowed endlessly into cups proffered and filled between total strangers. Everyone had been in a mood of merriment and joyfulness.

Now, the streets were calmer. Not doldrum or melancholy but certainly calmer. Several of the building that Vangelis could see were only half in existence anymore - burnt by the attacking cultists and yet to be rebuilt. Swaths of fabric had been thrown up and over the worse scars of the city, as if the people were determined to replace burnt darkness with bright colour. The entire place was in no way depressed in its atmosphere, but it was different. Vangelis narrowed his eyes as he struck a boot up on the barrier of the ship and tried to look closer. Cagey perhaps? Resilient? There was a certain apprehensiveness and a lack of trust within the frames and statures of the Taengean people and Vangelis felt sympathy bloom in his chest. His jaw clicked and gritted as he ground his teeth in frustration. He wished once more that he could have remained in Taengea longer to aid the new king, but his time - and life - had been in the hands of the Gods since he had left the southern kingdom.

Despite his face not being one of public display and recognition when in Taengea, Vangelis cut an impressive shape through the crowds as he corralled his sister and cousin - Nike brought up their rear - and shepherded them towards a carriage waiting on the docks. His height, the breadth of his shoulders and the fact that he was in no way long and lean but instead built like a warship, the dock workers - freemen and slaves alike - scurried out from under his step and gave the small group a wide berth.

The enclosed vehicle they headed for bore the insignia of the House of Leventi - the white equestria painted vibrantly on the side. Vangelis' lips twisted in distaste when he noticed the men to ride with them bore the Kotas colours. It seemed that someone was intent on showing the prestige and rank of the visiting party and just whom within the Taengea court had secured their habitation.

Vangelis felt like a trussed-up award being shipped from cargo passage to warehouse supply, as he agreed to step up into the carriage with the ladies. Nike, as was her habit, had gripped up to the back of the vehicle and ridden it from the outside.

The journey had been silent and uneventful though whether that was because Asia and Imeeya had extinguished all they wished to say to one another on the boat, whether they had had a falling out or simply because Vangelis was present for once in their cocoon of confidance, he did not know. And he cared little to know. Any issues would be brought to him in due time.

Placing a boot up on the opposing seat of the carriage, Vangelis had simply looked out to the little window at the streets they passed - most of them familiar from his last visit but with minor changes. A few linens that hung in windows had been replaced - perhaps singed in the fires that had been spread throughout the city? Most belongings were now kept off the streets. The royal colours were more evident - with the Mikaelidas lion on show above the door of more than one home, determined to prove loyalty over masked conspiracy. The most significant change that Vangelis noted however, was that all the doors were shut. Rather than leave the entryway open, domestic women would open and then shut the wooden panels into place - even if they were only stepping outside for a moment. It was a natural change in habit that came from fear. Whether the king permitted it, whether the people showed it or whether strangers like himself could feel it, it did not matter. The truth was there if you looked hard enough. Taengea was afraid.

The building the carriage finally pulled up at was one that Vangelis had not been to before. He allowed the household steward to direct himself and his Colchian relatives, around the home - indicating each room that had been arranged and chosen for each of them.

While the prince was less interested in knowing the history, architecture and the efforts that had been made in order to create a structure of hospitality over one of practical and militant purpose, it was clear that the steward was proud of the work he had carried out under the instruction of - Vangelis assumed - Lord Fotios. And so, he allowed the older gentleman to deliver his spiel, nodding in all the right places, saying very little and eventually sending the man into a fearful quiet before announcing that he must see to the chores of the servants. And once again, Vangelis' reputation as the Stone Prince had been cemented.

With his sister and cousin attending to their own rooms and their own dress, Vangelis headed for the master chamber that the old man had very proudly declared to have been allocated for him, during his stay in their country. The room was large with wooden panelling to half way up the marble walls. It was clear from the shape of the place (for Vangelis had been in a fair few in his lifetime to recognise the dimensions) that it had once been the Order House's armoury. One of the largest rooms in the building, most likely and the reason for it being chosen as his bedchamber. The bed in question that had been brought it was made of magnificent black Grecian wood and supported posts at each corner. The linens and decoration of the room, Vangelis cared little for - if only to notice that the space felt surprisingly homey and therefore the decor couldn't be so out of his tastes as to cause discomfort. Or alienation. The room would suit far better for his stay than he had perhaps expected.

Interrupted in his thoughts only momentarily as slaves brought in certain pieces of luggage - he directed the others to be taken to the appropriate rooms for his compatriots (Asia and Imeeya were down the hall and Nike had a separate chamber on the ground floor near the main entrance) and then longer still by a second set of servants who brought in the requirements for a hot bath.

The bath was expected. The household steward - Fumas was his name - had insisted that Lord Fotios wanted to welcome him to Taengea with a dinner that evening. It was understandable - nay polite - to assume that a man who had journeyed by sea for two weeks would require a fresh wash before social engagement. Not that Vangelis had ever cared much for the appropriate levels of attire and visage in such matters. Still, when he was abroad and in the company of royal families, he was a representative of his House. The new king had already made it abundantly clear that the rumour circulating in the southern isles was that Colchians were unhygienic.

Vangelis ensured that a bath would be taken to each of the three women in his company.

What was less expected than the bath, however, was the incredibly nervous looking servant girl who stood to one side, with wash cloth in hand. Apparently Taengeans didn't wash their own backs.

Stepping forwards with three large and domineering strides, Vangelis plucked the cloth from the girl's hands, being careful to avoid actually touching her and then shifted his head towards the door.

"That will be all." He told her, his voice deep and raspy from talking over the wind across the sea for so many days.

It was only when he was alone in the room that the crown prince stripped down to nude, entered the tub and performed the rudimentary ablutions that would make him once more presentable and not saturated with salt and sea air. He was not a man to luxuriate or waste time with the bowl of flower petals that had been set to one side of the tub - let someone else smell like a pansy, he wasn't interested - and so was out of the metal tub within a few minutes.

Snatching up a towel set by a fire already lit, Vangelis cared not when the corner caught on the stool it had been supported by and knocked the little stand over with a thunk. Instead he focused on placing the towel over his head and rubbing at his hair, sending water specks all over the floor. It was as he moved the towel from his hair to neck that Vangelis became aware of two things simultaneously. That there was a letter on the stand beside his bed and that the door had opened behind him.

A high-pitched squeak of embarrassment escaped the young girl in the door, who had come back for some reason, and a babbling stammer left her as she glanced around the room, attempting to stare at anything beside his naked person as he looked back at her over his shoulder.

"My lord, I heard... er, the thump... I just wanted to... I'll go now."

And with that the serving girl flushed scarlet and left the room quickly, shutting the door with a little more force than was necessary.

Vangelis snorted to himself, utterly unperturbed and turned back pick up the folded parchment beside his bed, sealing with purple wax.

Pulling it open and feeling a sense of familiarity over the initial impact of the handwriting, Vangelis frowned and read over the letter quickly, confused as to how the Lady Selene had gotten a letter to his chambers in Vasiliadon so quickly when he had only discovered the change in arrangement himself a few days prior. It took a least a full day by boat to cross to the mainland of Serenn from Macendia.

The letter quickly answered his confusion and had his mood lighten beyond his control or notice.

Vangelis had - inaccurately it would seem - assumed that Selene of Leventi - the unmarried, eldest of the royal family - would have returned to the cloistered protection of her family estate after spending a dangerous few weeks away from home and abroad in the barbaric Colchis. Instead, it appeared that she was still within Vasiliadon - and likely to attend at the dinner her uncle had arranged for Vangelis' arrival.

Suddenly with a lightness to his step and more favour as he looked forwards to the evening’s events, Vangelis decided that, if he were to attend anything, wearing more than a towel about his neck would likely be preferred, and so went about seeking one of the few chitons, his mother always insisted he packed when journeying to lands on dignitary connections. His riding pants and open shirt were, apparently, unsuitable for such a formal evening, but he would be able to make his excuses to his mother than any other interaction he had with the Leventi family past this night could be considered casual enough for his usual attire. As such, he would only have need of the damn chiton for the one night. And he had flat out refused to take any of his crowns with him on this particular journey - so at least there was that.

Vangelis spent most of the following afternoon sleeping. He and Nike had set up alternative guards of watch while at sea and he never slept well when in the bowels of a ship anyway. He was too aware - too ready to leap to his feet and bark commands in the event of an insurgent attack or dangerous weather. He was never able to slumber deep or for long. Taking the opportunity now, Vangelis woke naturally just an hour before he was due at the Leventi manor. Having forgotten - in his rusty etiquette manners - to confirm that his sister and cousin were in attendance with him on his trip, there was no time to include them in the planned meal. As such, he had told them that they were to keep to themselves for their first evening on foreign soil. Given that Imeeya had not adjusted too well to the sea and Asia was one to be rambunctious within an atmosphere that she was familiar but nervous in one that was alien (not that she'd ever show it on pain of death), he was certain that neither wanted to be presented before arguably one of the most powerful men in the country after only being on solid ground a few hours.

As such, he sent a note to Nike through a servant to watch the two girls and quickly got himself ready to leave.

The chiton he had packed was possibly the only piece the royal seamstress had made for him in her fifty years of service that he didn't feel like a prancing pony when trussed up in. It was double shouldered but sleeveless and in inky black. The trim was a navy blue do dark it was almost indistinguishable from the rest of the gown. Cinching the waist with a black cord of rope and eschewing his big boots in favour of black leather sandals that bound up to his knees. Tucking the leather string of his necklace into the front of his chiton and securing golden cuffs around his wrists, Vangelis transferred the bracelet gifted by Silas from his now masked wrist to his and around his bicep, tying once inside of its normal twice.

Exhaling impertinently as the ridiculousness of it all, wiggling his toes in his sandals and securing a black himation in place over his shoulder, Vangelis was ready to leave in as short a time as ever, despite his discomfort or the foreign feel of silk against his skin.

Realising in his reflection in the looking glass in the corner of the room that he had yet to do something with the hair he had towel dried and was now standing on end. Diving his fingers into the locks, Vangelis realised it had now grown long enough to tie back again and fastened his hair at the back of his head with a leather tie. He noted his own reflection making a sidelong smirk at the efficient yet unsmooth knot.

His mother would kill him.

Last to be secured to his person was a second belt - this time functional over aesthetic. The black leather band supported the sheaths for three weapons total - a long knife at his hip and two daggers in a cross at the small of his back. He also had several small blades kept until the golden cuffs, and another two on the inner ankles of his sandals. Crown prince he may be at certain events, but a General he was always.

Refusing the offer of a carriage - for he was not about to arrive at the Leventi manor under anything but his own steam - Vangelis was instead produced a bay gelding that he quickly tempered and turned in the direction he was shown by the servant who had attended to the old Order House in order to guide him in the right direction.

Night had already fallen and Nyx had offered a silky blanket of blues and blacks so dark and shimmering that Vangelis felt he had almost dressed to accompany her celestial art. Turning his attention back to the road, however, Vangelis was cautious to ensure that he could memorise the way back. A caution that turned out to be unnecessary as the main Leventi manor was only twenty minutes down a singular straight road before the Vasiliadon centre and Order House and the two structures that dominated the Leventi grounds on the edge of the city. For the fields upon fields behind it were all in the family's name.

Amused that anyone thought a horse required for the journey at all, Vangelis slid down to the ground, ensured that his lack of familiarity with his attire hadn't caused him to become rucked or tucked in an unfortunate manner, and then stepped forwards through the parted gates of the Leventi gardens.

The front space of the manor was full of raised flower beds, up to mid-thigh on a man as tall as Vangelis. The colours of the blooms were still obvious, even when night had fully fallen, as several metal dishes on podiums were organised throughout and kept lit in favour of their guest. Still more lit brackets were on show either side of the large bronze doors that opened up to the main manor. Or so the servant beside him directed.

Vangelis had been the second manor during an event held by the Lady Evelli on his last visit, but the home of Lord Fotios was a domain he had had yet to breach.

Luckily, seeking permission for such a move, nor storming on through were necessary as the doors opened themselves as he strode down the main path towards the manor house and several servants in livery bowed deep and low to welcome the crown prince of the neighbouring kingdom into the foyer of one of the grandest manors Vangelis had ever stepped into...