The journey to Taengea had been relatively uneventful. Despite a storm the first night after their departure, the winds had been strong but the sea at ease. And it had been driving Vangelis slowly mad from the moment they hauled anchor. While Midas had never encouraged so divided a class system as Athenia, the simple structure of their capital forced the royals into seclusion, layers of rock higher than the people they ruled. As such, it was uncommon for a Colchian citizen to witness a member of their royal Houses about their personal business. Even rarer for such happenstance to be observed by a sailor. Men who, by very definition, remained at sea level, fathoms below the Upper Levels of Midas' most elite residences.

When a storm was apparent, the journey was easier, for a man like Prince Vangelis. There was something to do; orders to be made. During the bluster, torrents and gale of a monsoon or unsettled sea, when disaster and doom whispered down the back of your neck and the waves of the ocean reached up as if to claim you and your vessel for its own, it mattered little the rank and reputation of the man holding out the rope with which to secure the cargo. Or which individual climbed the rigging to release a caught furl of a sail. No-one spoke in hushed tones and no-one stared, for the need to survive would override all else.

But in calm seas... When there was little to do besides maintain course, ensure the tautness of rope and stare off towards the horizon, there was little to distract the general plebeian from seeking entertainment and assuaging curiosity wherever he could. And when the lures of the open sea, and the blinding light where sky met wave could no longer fight against the tug of novelty, the crew had turned to watching Vangelis' every move while on deck.

Stepping out onto the quartermaster's territory after hours below, such a reaction was the expected and received behaviour that Vangelis suffered from his fellow travellers. No outward stares... just glances. Flickers of observation followed by mutters and whispers of speculation to the sailor next door, with minimal movement of lips for fear of being caught, their secrets demanded.

Vangelis paid them no heed.

He had learnt long ago that to try and quash the murmurings only emboldened the murmurer and the last thing he had wanted to do on this journey was bolster curious sailors who harboured zero tact, while he journeyed alongside them in a confined space. Instead, he let them gossip. Likely spreading more of the same filth and lies about him that were so popular back in Midas. He ignored it successfully on the outside, adjusting the material at his neck, before pulling the hood up over his head against the salty breeze but, internally, the attentions continued to gnaw and he was in a foul mood by the time the captain of the ship gave order to loose anchor.

Adjusting the leather straps of his bracers and rolling his wrists, Vangelis stepped out further onto the deck, heading for the helm of the ship and seeking a better look at his destination. As he moved, he turned to avoid sailors who gave him a wide birth regardless and rolled out his shoulders and neck. Though his quarters on the ship had not been a small cabin by half, Vangelis had never appreciated rooms with low ceilings and the muscles across his shoulder blades cracked as he stretched himself back out.

Upon reaching the front of the vessel, and avoiding the men who cranked the shaft to lower their anchor, he settled a heavy boot on the edge of the ships decking and leaned out to look over the docks and the city.

Vasiliadon was famous for its beauty. Be it the architecture, the artisan designs, the crafts it produced, or the women it enclosed, the city was a colourful jewel nestled in an island of green. Not an art lover by nature, nor someone who understood the finer accents or music or literature, Vangelis was well aware that his appreciation of the city would mean little to the professionals who had constructed it. But that didn't mean he couldn't admire the place. Midas was a proud and impressive city. Defiant in its decision to remain carved from the cliff face of a rocky island and imposing as it loomed over the dark depths below, Vangelis was proud of his place of birth. But nothing could quite compare to the aesthetics of Vasiliadon at midday.

And certainly not during festival time!

As he looked closer, Vangelis noticed the ivy wrapped around the stalls on the dockside, and the soft sound of music being escorted on the wind from the city's main square. Having been in the inner belly of ship for the last eleven days and cloistered in his chambers working on Senate requests for the previous three, Vangelis was forced to check his mental calendar and realised belatedly that it was the Festival of Dionysus. He wondered which of the three days his arrival had interrupted.

With a small quirk to the right side of his mouth, Vangelis considered it very characteristic of Prince Zacharias to arrange trade talks on a day when most would be out enjoying the celebrations. The man was a workaholic and an appropriate heir apparent to his father who seemed most definitely cut from the same cloth. At least their working attitude was something the two princes had been able to find common ground in as the Taengean and Colchian culture often seemed to have little to no overlap.

As he scanned the people at the docks for the royal retainer who normally met him at his ship's arrival he was surprised to find no-one in royal livery. Just one in a cloak and garb that could only be befitting of a prince of the realm.

Vangelis recognised the man as Prince Stephanos. Younger brother to Prince Zacharias and a man he had little opportunity to work with in a professional setting. While he had seen the man interact in court, had heard the rumours and the reputation that followed him as faithfully as half the women in the kingdom (so they said), he had never sat across from him in a negotiation and wondered at the man's presence. For there was little else he could be doing besides waiting for someone of equal rank and title. For in all other cases, princes never waited.

Vangelis was distracted from his reverie by the shout of the ship's captain and, realising that his dark brows had pulled together and low over his eyes as he had assessed the young prince's appearance, he turned to watched as the sailors furled the sails, leapt across to the dock and began to shore up the vessel's belly against the dockline. A wooden walkway was produced and settled into place and Vangelis was approached by Tassos, the man who had gotten him safely from Colchis to Taengea.

"My Prince, it has been a pleasure having you sail with us." The captain assured him, to which Vangelis could only internally laugh. The captain's hand wasn't all steady as he took it in a fairwell and he had struggled to keep the sailors focused on their duties whenever Vangelis had made an appearance on deck, seeking fresh air.

"It's been a pleasure sailing with you." He lied in return and gave the man's hand a firm shake of thanks. "My gratitude in getting us here with such speed." He added, turning to avoid the boom as it swung and was secured into place.

"Twas the winds that did that, My Lord." Tassos smiled in good humour. "I just followed them." Vangelis noticed that, when Tassos smiled, he was missing several of his back teeth and his lips twitched. "I've sent three cabin boys down to collect your trunk, My Lord. I'll ensure it gets to the palace on your behalf."

Vangelis nodded in respect and a second thanks and then turned to approach the walkway. Within three strides he had reached the dock and, given his lack of finery and adornment, had it not been for his clear lack of dock task and impressive height, he might have blended in with the common roughery meandering around him and going about their business. With an amused pursing of the lips, he placed a hand on the pummel of his sword and, with ease and power in his stride, headed down the dock to meet his welcoming retinue, thankful to be on dry land again.

As he approached the Taengean prince, Vangelis's eyes narrowed and became assessing. While he looked every inch the truth of the rumours about him, Vangelis was the last Colchian to believe hearsay over fact and he determined to judge the man on his own merits after meeting him properly. After all, no telling which of the popular stories regarding him in Midas had reached Taengean ears. Judgement went two ways, after all.

"Prince Stephanos." He greeted the man, as he avoided a dock worker with three large cages of loud and feathered creatures. "I had not expected you." He nodded a form of respect to the man beside the Prince and then one of a small bow to the prince himself, as his retainers - Daros and Pavis who fought with him in his unit and a scribe he had been assigned for the journey (Olis his name was) - finally caught up with him.

It never hurt to be polite.

“Poseidon seems to have left you well enough alone,”

The voice called Vangelis' attention away from the three men desperately trying to secure the cages of birds onto a ship while avoiding the sharp and angry beaks of their inhabitants. Their efforts were not being rewarded, but they were amusing at least to watch. Not that his thoughts translated onto his features. Instead, he turned back to consider the prince's words.

"He or the Fates." He agreed with the rising of one of his wide shoulders. The movement seemed to make the little man behind him jump and he glanced back to find Olis clearly trying to hide a shudder as he clutched his parchment box to the front of his white tunic. Vangelis turned his eyeline to Daros and found the soldier's lip curled in amusement as he watched the scribe. Like Vangelis, his two retainers were tall, broad in frame and laid with muscle tone. Like their prince, they exuded a confidence one only found on a battlefield with a weapon stained in blood. Yet they held a more approachable guise, a less isolating aura. Whether through their rank or their nature, Vangelis had never been able to tell. Daros flashed an upturned eyebrow at his prince and gave an imperceptible tilt of his head in nonchalance.

Vangelis's jaw tightened and brow seemed to darken. Despite all rumours and reputation it irritated him when a man he had caused no ire or given no ill will would positively quake in his boots from a simple shift in his stance. It was cowardly, it was insulting and it was narrow-minded. He caught Pavis' eye and then nudged his head towards the city.

"Take him."

The scribe positively yelped as Pavis' large and tattooed hand latched onto his upper arm and began dragging him through the crowds and up the dock. The scribe babbled and stuttered what sounded like something between an apology and a questioning of what he had done wrong but the sound of his nonsense was quickly swallowed up by the crowds of cheering, laughing people. Pavis would ensure that Olis reached the royal palace in one piece. And that he wouldn't be irritating the hell out of Vangelis every step of the way there.

As the scribe disappeared into the ether of celebration that coated the streets Vangelis looked out at the Taengean people. The women, dressed in their brightest gowns and shawls. The men in their finest togas and cloaks. The day was a special one and the residents of the city had turned out in all their glory to add the decoration of their presence to an already splendorous city.

Vangelis noticed that Prince Stephanos' eyes were turned in a similar direction and had the opportunity to assess the man without notice.

Tall - the same height as himself - but built on leaner lines, Prince Stephanos was slighter than his brother but had the same angular features and fine lines that he was sure spurred the wildly ranged whispers about him in court. Vangelis had it on good authority - Felia of Eliades, who loved nothing more than a gossip - that Stephanos was considered the most handsome man in Vasiliadon by one half of the populace. And the other half only put him second behind his cousin Lord Emilios. The Taengeans were famous for their love of beauty and it was of no surprise to Vangelis that Prince Stephanos would have grown up well loved and well cared for, supplied with all that his heart could desire.

Not exactly the life training Lord Tython had given him when he'd been sent down to the Colchian mines and told not to return for six months.

As the other prince turned suddenly, Vangelis had to draw on his mental training to restrain his instinctive reactions. It was the same cognitive process he had always had to employ when meeting people in Taengea. For, they were a touchy people. So, instead of throwing the royal lord to the ground and defending himself against the innocent action, he allowed the man to clamp a hand around each shoulder in jovial friendship.

Not a physical touch person by half and a Colchian to start with, Vangelis hated those who got too close and personal, to the point where he would taste a tang in the back of his throat. But he also knew that the gesture was one of companionship and that there was no better way for a Taengean to break the ice than to break the intimate bubble of someone's personal space. So he felt the muscles in his neck tighten, and the biceps beneath the prince's hands clench... and he let it go.

“You’ve managed to come on the right day. Tonight, we will celebrate, you and I.”

Vangelis simply raised a brow at this, letting a little light hit the steel blue of his gaze. And the prince's first go-to was to drink and make merry. This proved to be a long negotiation visit. Which was frustrating because three days after he had left Colchis he had received a message from his father requesting his speedy return so that he could escort his sister back to Taengea. The fact that he had better things to do than play ferrier across the Aegean Sea didn't even cross his mind when it was a request from his father, but the idea of a merry night of celebration postponing that ferriment quickly became an irritation all its own.

“Komos is tonight. You’ll no doubt want to rest before the feast.”

Fantastic. The worst part of festivals such as these would have to be the prince's favourite. If sober Taengeans were bad for being in your face and breaking intimacy boundaries then drunk ones were even worse and Vangelis couldn't think of anything he'd less rather do after eleven days at sea, squashed too close to three dozen men who liked to get drunk on the deck of their vessel every night, than be crammed into a city square with a hundred people all of whom were getting drunk for the night.

Vangelis felt his jaw work as he chewed at his tongue and swallowed back his steadily growing resentment for the Taengean "hospitality".

“Rest and bathe.”

Vangelis had been about to open his mouth and thank the prince for his consideration and that - yes - a rest before having to endure a drunken procession of depravity was exactly what he needed - though perhaps not in those same words - when those last three little words were fired at him and his mouth snapped shut.

Vangelis knew his brow-line had risen in surprise and he felt rather than saw Daros shift uncomfortably to his left. For a moment, it was as if the air at the docks had paused and stood stagnant on the breeze and the wind became full of pressure and discomfort. Then... Vangelis snorted.

A huff through the nose - no more than the simple exhaling of air and the curling of his upper-lip and he had - for all intents and purposes - laughed at Stephanos' comment.

"I've been lord Poseidon's guest for near two weeks." He told the man, ignoring the second slap to his shoulder as it ne'er moved him an inch. "Are you offended by the scent of his hospitality?"

There was nothing bar the words themselves to indicate any levity in the prince's gravel-laiden baritone but he met Stephanos' direct eye contact for the first time he had left his ship and stared his question directly at him. He knew his man well enough to know that Daros would be sporting a half-smirk as an accessory to his comment.

With an indication of forward motion, Vangelis side-stepped the prince and headed down the dock, with a confidence of assumption that he would be followed. With barely a glance over his shoulder he made his next query more pointed and unable to re circumnavigated as the prince had done once before.

"Where is Prince Zacharias?"

Decidedly vague. That was Prince Vangelis' assessment of Stephanos' answer. Whether the prince had made it deliberately so who he simply didn't know or care where his brother was, Vangelis wasn't yet sure. But what he was sure of was that no further query or inducement would encourage the man to elaborate further. So, instead, he stayed quiet and pretended not to hear Stephanos' previous comments regarding his repulsion.

It swayed Vangelis little that Stephanos was offended by his behaviour. He had grown up offending people left and right and had had to utilise both his literal and figurative big boots to stomp all over the opinions of people in the way of his and his family's direct moral and social compass.

Instead, he carried on meandering through the crowds, paying little heed to the people who skirted out of his way and give his thunderous stride a wide birth. He only paused when he realized he could no longer hear the steady beat of Stephanos' sandals behind him.

Turning back, Vangelis watched with a mixed reaction to the tete-a-tete that passed between Stephanos and a wine girl. Half of him was severely underwhelmed, with his eyes falling to half cast and his jaw settling into place. Good grief... But it was easy to see where the man got his reputation from. The second half of his emotions were far more in the realm of... exasperated shock. It was just so far outside the sphere of normal for him to watch a prince of the realm openly swallowing wine poured directly from the hand of a stranger on the streets of his capital city. He wasn't amazingly certain his brain could process the information.

"If you have other pressing matters to attend to..." He instead said, with a wave of a hand into the direction of the wine girl's supple and rounded back end, "... then I can always postpone our meeting, Prince Stephanos."

Then he raised a hand and pointed in the direction of the royal palace "Better yet... I know the way to the royal palace myself." He nodded to himself. "I'll go see if your father has any available time. I'm sure the king is busy but would gladly make time for a valued connection." And Vangelis turned on his heel and started heading down the street at a fine pace, clearly intending to do exactly as he said.

Oh please... Vangelis couldn't help but think as the Taengean prince started in with the platitudes. While he didn't believe a word of the flattery coming out of Prince Stephanos' mouth, Vangelis was pleased to note that his comment regarding the man's father had had the intended effect. Clearly there was a simple and easy way of ensuring that Stephanos paid attention to the matter at hand. And he intended to file that shred of evidence away and harbour it for future use.

As Stephanos managed to stop him in his tracks - not normally a feat easily achieved, but the prince was quick on his toes - he tensed as he was once again encased between two royal hands laid upon his biceps and then relaxed as Stephanos let him go.

“If you’ll allow me, I’d like to show you something I’m sure you haven’t seen in a long time.”

Vangelis quirked up an eyebrow. There wasn't a lot in his life that he hadn't seen in a long time... asides perhaps a pretty lady in his bed (the woes of a military General who was away from home ten months of the year and never stayed in one place too long). But the Prince seemed convinced in his statement and, at the end of the day, there had to be a reason the king hadn't met Vangelis at the dock himself. And the last thing he actually wanted to do was disturb the king in whatever important business was keeping him occupied and damage the trust and cordiality between their kingdoms.

Not that he was going to tell Stephanos that.

So, instead, he allowed the handsome prince to lead him forward and through the streets of the city.

While they had to stop a few times to allow a group of ladies to sidle by - often uncomfortably close to the Taengean prince - and then again for the guards who saluted the son of their monarch as was their duty, Vangelis had to credit the man with his self-restraint as he didn't allow the longer pause or distractions of the food, drink and company he was obviously being offered as they walked.

The festival clearly at the people of Vasiliadon excited and overly rambunctious. Many had lost their inhibitions and were acting either outside their character or outside the law.

Vangelis was surprised to find that a few ladies even attempted a flirtation or encouragement his way, instead of towards Stephanos. They were easily put-off, however, with the sharp look and dark glare that was their response.

By the time the two princes came to a halt, they were in the richer part of town and standing outside a large white, rectangular building with columns running its full length. Through the open door, Vangelis could only see a marbled, open floor and servants walking speedily this way and that across the hallway. He had absolutely no idea where Prince Stephanos had brought him and so looked towards the man for further direction.

Oh for the love of the Gods...

Vangelis wandered into the building with a significant amount less enthusiasm than the Taengean prince and he could practically hear his one remaining guard crack a smile. A quick and hard glance of his shoulder put paid to that pretty quickly.

As Stephanos merrily led the way inside the communal bath house, Vangelis couldn't help but look and stare. While there was some, unjustified, and laughable ideas floating around the realm that Colchians never washed (it was the mine dust everywhere that made everyone look permanently dirty) he could attest to his people being as routine in their hygiene as any other of the kingdoms. Maybe even more so than some - once again, that dust! But the Colchians were reliant on hot springs in their mountainous homes for their open bathing; the mountains just weren't the kind of place to build the waterways required to keep a public bath house running. Instead, most families bathed at home - with water collected and brought to their manors from the natural springs by servants, and then re-heated over a fire before being poured into a metal or ceramic tub. Either that, or they just skipped the middle man and went to bath with the general populace at the springs themselves.

A bath house, in its entirety - with its sculptures, its facilities and its systematic water containment - to ensure a good supply of clean bathing water - was a little bit of a wonder to behold.

Vangelis was therefore distracted when servants took Stephanos behind a curtain and was only brought back to attention when the prince decided to grace him with his presence again - only this time, sans clothing.

With an unamused expression on his face and almost an eye roll, Vangelis caved to the man's taunted and following the example he'd been set, stepped through the curtain being held out to him by a young slave boy.

Vangelis might have travelled light with regards to clothing - a simple shirt and riding pants, underneath which he always went naked - but his affects took a little longer to remove. With several different belts holding several different scabbards, his general travel requirements such as money pouch and basic food rations, his heavy boots and the knives he had hidden inside and his own personal affects like the leather bracers on his wrist, it took Vangelis a few minutes to be completely free of garments.

By the time he was, Vangelis' practised motions had removed dual long swords, three long knives, two daggers from each boot, his money pouch, a stash of dried bread, three belts and three more daggers that he had concealed somewhere on his person.

Once naked, Vangelis was only wearing the jewellery he never parted with - his leather strap necklace with the three pendants, his braided leather wristband and his signet ring (on the thumb of his right hand) and house ring (the middle finger of his left). These were additions to his person that were never removed and would not be now.

Wrapping the white drying cloth that was given him by the slave boy, Vangelis wrapped it around his waist. The white cloth only reached to several inches above his knees and he noted the difference in colour between his skin and the fabric. From his times abroad and his habit of enjoying being outside, Vangelis was more tanned on his upper half than his lower - especially around his forearms, where he had pushed up the sleeves of his shirt against the sun on more the one occasion. With a natural olive hue to his skin already and the dark shade of his body hair, the man looked like a dark spectre in the world of white that was the bathhouse.

Stepping through a second curtain and into the pool area where Stephanos had already made himself comfortable, Vangelis waded into the water, surprised and pleased to find it warm and inviting.

He deliberately kept his expression neutral, however, as he saw the Taengean prince's eyes watching him mischievously. If his highness Prince Stephanos thought he could embarrass a seasoned military leader - one who had had to bathe with his men in sweat tents on his travels - with a little bath, then he was sorely mistaken...

The entire detour to the bathhouse was a waste of time as far as its intended purpose was concerned. Otherwise, it was a minor-ly nice distraction.

While Vangelis was in no way believing of the prince's comments regarding his smell or his appearance - he was quite certain that he had bathed in the water they had stored on the boat enough to remain at least passable after so many days' travel at sea... he was at least aware that adventures by boat did not a fresh-smelling prince make. And as such, the bathhouse and its waters were actually quite refreshing.

Except for the company.

As Vangelis bathed, washed and relaxed in the waters that the impressive structure kept warm for them, he was forced to listen to the inane jibes and conversation of the second prince of Taengea - who appeared to have nothing more prevalent on his daily tasks lists, than bugging and irritating the foreign dignitaries under his care. He was lucky that Vangelis was a man of both calm disposition and objectivity. He wasn't about to tar the kingdom with the same black brush he might have the younger prince, and he wasn't about to rise to his bait either.

Instead, the conversation between the two of them - conducted mostly by just the one of them - dithered and faded as they simply enjoyed the quiet of the bathhouse until the point where time had moved on too far.

Getting out of the bath - one prince refreshed by the waters, and the other frustrated by that relaxation as it was pure evidence that he had failed in his original ploy to get under the man's skin.

The two of them quickly dressed independently, but Vangelis was still pulling on his leather jerkin when he exited from the curtain and his necklace was free to hang loose.

Before he could tuck it inside his shirt where it was normally hidden, Stephanos had pointed out towards it and asked what the pendants were.

Vangelis was torn. It was no great secret, but then the man had been pulling his chain all afternoon. Let his curiosity suffer. He hooked the necklace up into his hand and tucked it inside his shirt.

"Mine." Was his simple answer to what it was.

"Now, I think it time you escort me to the palace so I might salvage some of this day, don't you?" He asked the main with his eyes narrowed and his tone calm; stoic until the end.

What he had no way of knowing was that, upon reaching the palace he would be dragged into attending the Leventi feast that night and then be unable to talk business with the King and Crown Prince at all on his visit to Taengea... for tomorrow was the appointed annual chariot race that the Fates had already cast their dice upon...