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The night had been a restless one. On top of the cough that had seemed to catch on since the end of last month, and had steadfastly held on despite all the tonics and concoctions Meena had brewed and forcefed him with, it had not abated. Perhaps the added stress of the recent happenings in Taengea made it worst, but his body had not been what it once was. His body overheated easily even on cool nights, but Irakles had taken Meena's advice, and had rested more then he usually did.
What happened the night before however, had agitated him beyond belief, that the prince regeant had simply paced in his study, not even joining his lover in their shared bedchamber he would bring her to when she came to the palati, as he plotted and turned the plan in his head, over and over again. While the retired general was agitated and beyond incensed at the fact that his nephew had managed to give him the slip, and was now gone and untraceable judging by the reports given to him by his men, it did not mean he could not turn the tides in his favor.
So instead, he had written a missive to each of the three other royal houses of Taengea. The throne was without a king now, and with him having fled in the middle of the night, the assumption and accusation of treason could now easily be concluded.
Having requested them to meet by midday at his current residence in the palati, he had rose early and did his morning ablutions, waving off his manservant's concerned comments regarding his hairline. It was a matter of age, and Irakles simply did not bother. Let his hair fall, what mattered most was the task at hand.
Dressed in a simple blue chiton that fell to his knees, the material was held up over the shoulder with the golden fibulae in the shape of Mikaelidas lions. The man eschewed his crown and any jewelry, instead slipping his feet in regular leather slippers, and headed down to the sitting room to wait for the arrival of the other royal head of houses. Breakfast had not sat well with him, for food was the last thing on his mind. His stomach turned as much as his mind, stress not at all a conducive subject for digestion, it seems.
Taking a seat by the window that was shaded by a tall tree, the man blended in well to the homey sitting room had been furnished by Elise. The room was decorated plainly in colors of beige, gold and accented with the Mikaelidas colors of maroon. The accented maroon could be seen on the edges of the carpet, to the upholstery of the kline and cushion, of which were arranged in a circular manner. On the table was an amphora of wine and four chalices, meant for his guests along with a platter of figs and grapes. It usually served as a room for Elise to entertain guests, but the Queen Mother had been indisposed ever since her son had been on the teetering edges of being accused of treason, and with him gone, she was simply unable to face the general public.
They only had to arrive. And hopefully, by the end of the day, Irakles would get all he ever wanted.
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 night had been a restless one. On top of the cough that had seemed to catch on since the end of last month, and had steadfastly held on despite all the tonics and concoctions Meena had brewed and forcefed him with, it had not abated. Perhaps the added stress of the recent happenings in Taengea made it worst, but his body had not been what it once was. His body overheated easily even on cool nights, but Irakles had taken Meena's advice, and had rested more then he usually did.
What happened the night before however, had agitated him beyond belief, that the prince regeant had simply paced in his study, not even joining his lover in their shared bedchamber he would bring her to when she came to the palati, as he plotted and turned the plan in his head, over and over again. While the retired general was agitated and beyond incensed at the fact that his nephew had managed to give him the slip, and was now gone and untraceable judging by the reports given to him by his men, it did not mean he could not turn the tides in his favor.
So instead, he had written a missive to each of the three other royal houses of Taengea. The throne was without a king now, and with him having fled in the middle of the night, the assumption and accusation of treason could now easily be concluded.
Having requested them to meet by midday at his current residence in the palati, he had rose early and did his morning ablutions, waving off his manservant's concerned comments regarding his hairline. It was a matter of age, and Irakles simply did not bother. Let his hair fall, what mattered most was the task at hand.
Dressed in a simple blue chiton that fell to his knees, the material was held up over the shoulder with the golden fibulae in the shape of Mikaelidas lions. The man eschewed his crown and any jewelry, instead slipping his feet in regular leather slippers, and headed down to the sitting room to wait for the arrival of the other royal head of houses. Breakfast had not sat well with him, for food was the last thing on his mind. His stomach turned as much as his mind, stress not at all a conducive subject for digestion, it seems.
Taking a seat by the window that was shaded by a tall tree, the man blended in well to the homey sitting room had been furnished by Elise. The room was decorated plainly in colors of beige, gold and accented with the Mikaelidas colors of maroon. The accented maroon could be seen on the edges of the carpet, to the upholstery of the kline and cushion, of which were arranged in a circular manner. On the table was an amphora of wine and four chalices, meant for his guests along with a platter of figs and grapes. It usually served as a room for Elise to entertain guests, but the Queen Mother had been indisposed ever since her son had been on the teetering edges of being accused of treason, and with him gone, she was simply unable to face the general public.
They only had to arrive. And hopefully, by the end of the day, Irakles would get all he ever wanted.
The night had been a restless one. On top of the cough that had seemed to catch on since the end of last month, and had steadfastly held on despite all the tonics and concoctions Meena had brewed and forcefed him with, it had not abated. Perhaps the added stress of the recent happenings in Taengea made it worst, but his body had not been what it once was. His body overheated easily even on cool nights, but Irakles had taken Meena's advice, and had rested more then he usually did.
What happened the night before however, had agitated him beyond belief, that the prince regeant had simply paced in his study, not even joining his lover in their shared bedchamber he would bring her to when she came to the palati, as he plotted and turned the plan in his head, over and over again. While the retired general was agitated and beyond incensed at the fact that his nephew had managed to give him the slip, and was now gone and untraceable judging by the reports given to him by his men, it did not mean he could not turn the tides in his favor.
So instead, he had written a missive to each of the three other royal houses of Taengea. The throne was without a king now, and with him having fled in the middle of the night, the assumption and accusation of treason could now easily be concluded.
Having requested them to meet by midday at his current residence in the palati, he had rose early and did his morning ablutions, waving off his manservant's concerned comments regarding his hairline. It was a matter of age, and Irakles simply did not bother. Let his hair fall, what mattered most was the task at hand.
Dressed in a simple blue chiton that fell to his knees, the material was held up over the shoulder with the golden fibulae in the shape of Mikaelidas lions. The man eschewed his crown and any jewelry, instead slipping his feet in regular leather slippers, and headed down to the sitting room to wait for the arrival of the other royal head of houses. Breakfast had not sat well with him, for food was the last thing on his mind. His stomach turned as much as his mind, stress not at all a conducive subject for digestion, it seems.
Taking a seat by the window that was shaded by a tall tree, the man blended in well to the homey sitting room had been furnished by Elise. The room was decorated plainly in colors of beige, gold and accented with the Mikaelidas colors of maroon. The accented maroon could be seen on the edges of the carpet, to the upholstery of the kline and cushion, of which were arranged in a circular manner. On the table was an amphora of wine and four chalices, meant for his guests along with a platter of figs and grapes. It usually served as a room for Elise to entertain guests, but the Queen Mother had been indisposed ever since her son had been on the teetering edges of being accused of treason, and with him gone, she was simply unable to face the general public.
They only had to arrive. And hopefully, by the end of the day, Irakles would get all he ever wanted.
Fotios was the first of the three guests in attendance at the Royal Palati. This was to no-one's surprise, including his own, for he had intended it that way and a prompt time-keeper when situations and meetings were not so serious as this. Today would be the day where Irakles would finally reach for what he had wanted for so long. And it would be down to three men whether he succeeded in wrapping his fingers around his ambitions and held them aloft for the world to see. And one of those men was Fotios.
Despite his obvious and well-known friendship with Irakles, Fotios disliked being openly biased or forced to make choices one way or the other in public. Whilst he himself was impressively opinionated and firm in just such choices, he liked the opportunity that public ambiguity offered him. Whilst all others thought it possible that he was on their side - regardless of what side that was - they were easier to sway and to encourage in a direction that he saw fit. By taking a stand and making your own personal agenda clear, you lost the potential future support of all those who would stand against you on such a matter as the one at hand.
Instead, Fotios preferred to keep the shadows. People knew of his friendship with Irakles, but few could define whether he was simply a weedy follower of the man, holding on to coattails. Or if Irakles considered him his equal. Some had claimed that Fotios and Irakles were not friends at all and that Irakles only kept the Head of the Leventi house around because he was useful in his schemes. The notion might have darkened Fotios' mind a few times in the early years of their friendship but the two had been confidants too long now for him to suspect such a thing. They each knew too much about the other to risk alienating each other. Anything they had to gain would be immediate destroyed. No, their friendship was fast and would last until dying breaths were drawn. Then there was his wife. Some say he was in love with her, some said they used one another. Some whispered of their acts of adultery and others were sure they were committed to one another. Fotios liked playing the ghost that no-one could pin down with fact.
Which meant this meeting was going to be frustrating at best and worrisome at its worst. He didn't like being put on the spot to commit to one side or the other, even if, internally, the choice was clear. Then again, there was no success without that final burst of courage it took to cease it. And if he aided Irakles in becoming King now... he would have the ear of the most powerful man in Taengea...
His arrival at the palati was greeted with far more servants than was necessary. Fotios had attended the meet with only two retainers, whom he commanded stayed with his horse in the grounds. He wasn't interested in having them press their ears to the doors to drop eaves on the intended meeting. Not when such a congregation of men were about to change the course of Taengean history.
Expecting a far larger ensemble or entourage for a Head of House, the half dozen slaves and servants who came to greet the Lord of Leventi, appeared surprised at their lack of tasks but rallied quickly, half moving to help the groomsmen care for the steed he had ridden between the manors and the other encouraging him into the palace and leading him down a handful of corridors to where the Prince was waiting for his guests.
Fotios attempted to assess the walls, the doors and the objects on display as he moved down the hallway, curious if any marks or clues had been left behind to form evidence of King Stephanos' escape. It didn't take a genius to work out that the crown prince of Colchis had left on the same day that His Majesty and his wife had disappeared from Taengea. With his niece Selene in toe no less. But the man was Colchian royalty - more than that: the future monarch of his realm. Which meant, pure coincidence (however obvious it might be) was not enough to condemn. Evidence would have to be found somewhere to prove his involvement. An eventuality of which Fotios wondered would ever pass. The man was a military tactician - as was the King. It would be curious to see whether militant or political assessment would win out in the end...
But for now, the escape was of little import. What was to be focused on was the opportunity it presented. Hence Prince Irakles insisting on the Heads of the Royal Houses attending upon him by noon that day. He was about to capitalise on the giant opportunity Stephanos had left behind by running. Not that the man had had any choice in the matter. But still... such chances couldn't be wasted.
This was the thought most prominent in Fotios' mind as he entered the sitting room the servants guided him into and moved across the heavily woven rug to greet the regent of the kingdom.
"My friend..." he said, simply, offering Irakles a one-armed embrace. "I come with everything you might need this day, regardless of consequence." His tone was light but his eyes serious as he reassured the man that he had his back in either case.
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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Fotios was the first of the three guests in attendance at the Royal Palati. This was to no-one's surprise, including his own, for he had intended it that way and a prompt time-keeper when situations and meetings were not so serious as this. Today would be the day where Irakles would finally reach for what he had wanted for so long. And it would be down to three men whether he succeeded in wrapping his fingers around his ambitions and held them aloft for the world to see. And one of those men was Fotios.
Despite his obvious and well-known friendship with Irakles, Fotios disliked being openly biased or forced to make choices one way or the other in public. Whilst he himself was impressively opinionated and firm in just such choices, he liked the opportunity that public ambiguity offered him. Whilst all others thought it possible that he was on their side - regardless of what side that was - they were easier to sway and to encourage in a direction that he saw fit. By taking a stand and making your own personal agenda clear, you lost the potential future support of all those who would stand against you on such a matter as the one at hand.
Instead, Fotios preferred to keep the shadows. People knew of his friendship with Irakles, but few could define whether he was simply a weedy follower of the man, holding on to coattails. Or if Irakles considered him his equal. Some had claimed that Fotios and Irakles were not friends at all and that Irakles only kept the Head of the Leventi house around because he was useful in his schemes. The notion might have darkened Fotios' mind a few times in the early years of their friendship but the two had been confidants too long now for him to suspect such a thing. They each knew too much about the other to risk alienating each other. Anything they had to gain would be immediate destroyed. No, their friendship was fast and would last until dying breaths were drawn. Then there was his wife. Some say he was in love with her, some said they used one another. Some whispered of their acts of adultery and others were sure they were committed to one another. Fotios liked playing the ghost that no-one could pin down with fact.
Which meant this meeting was going to be frustrating at best and worrisome at its worst. He didn't like being put on the spot to commit to one side or the other, even if, internally, the choice was clear. Then again, there was no success without that final burst of courage it took to cease it. And if he aided Irakles in becoming King now... he would have the ear of the most powerful man in Taengea...
His arrival at the palati was greeted with far more servants than was necessary. Fotios had attended the meet with only two retainers, whom he commanded stayed with his horse in the grounds. He wasn't interested in having them press their ears to the doors to drop eaves on the intended meeting. Not when such a congregation of men were about to change the course of Taengean history.
Expecting a far larger ensemble or entourage for a Head of House, the half dozen slaves and servants who came to greet the Lord of Leventi, appeared surprised at their lack of tasks but rallied quickly, half moving to help the groomsmen care for the steed he had ridden between the manors and the other encouraging him into the palace and leading him down a handful of corridors to where the Prince was waiting for his guests.
Fotios attempted to assess the walls, the doors and the objects on display as he moved down the hallway, curious if any marks or clues had been left behind to form evidence of King Stephanos' escape. It didn't take a genius to work out that the crown prince of Colchis had left on the same day that His Majesty and his wife had disappeared from Taengea. With his niece Selene in toe no less. But the man was Colchian royalty - more than that: the future monarch of his realm. Which meant, pure coincidence (however obvious it might be) was not enough to condemn. Evidence would have to be found somewhere to prove his involvement. An eventuality of which Fotios wondered would ever pass. The man was a military tactician - as was the King. It would be curious to see whether militant or political assessment would win out in the end...
But for now, the escape was of little import. What was to be focused on was the opportunity it presented. Hence Prince Irakles insisting on the Heads of the Royal Houses attending upon him by noon that day. He was about to capitalise on the giant opportunity Stephanos had left behind by running. Not that the man had had any choice in the matter. But still... such chances couldn't be wasted.
This was the thought most prominent in Fotios' mind as he entered the sitting room the servants guided him into and moved across the heavily woven rug to greet the regent of the kingdom.
"My friend..." he said, simply, offering Irakles a one-armed embrace. "I come with everything you might need this day, regardless of consequence." His tone was light but his eyes serious as he reassured the man that he had his back in either case.
Fotios was the first of the three guests in attendance at the Royal Palati. This was to no-one's surprise, including his own, for he had intended it that way and a prompt time-keeper when situations and meetings were not so serious as this. Today would be the day where Irakles would finally reach for what he had wanted for so long. And it would be down to three men whether he succeeded in wrapping his fingers around his ambitions and held them aloft for the world to see. And one of those men was Fotios.
Despite his obvious and well-known friendship with Irakles, Fotios disliked being openly biased or forced to make choices one way or the other in public. Whilst he himself was impressively opinionated and firm in just such choices, he liked the opportunity that public ambiguity offered him. Whilst all others thought it possible that he was on their side - regardless of what side that was - they were easier to sway and to encourage in a direction that he saw fit. By taking a stand and making your own personal agenda clear, you lost the potential future support of all those who would stand against you on such a matter as the one at hand.
Instead, Fotios preferred to keep the shadows. People knew of his friendship with Irakles, but few could define whether he was simply a weedy follower of the man, holding on to coattails. Or if Irakles considered him his equal. Some had claimed that Fotios and Irakles were not friends at all and that Irakles only kept the Head of the Leventi house around because he was useful in his schemes. The notion might have darkened Fotios' mind a few times in the early years of their friendship but the two had been confidants too long now for him to suspect such a thing. They each knew too much about the other to risk alienating each other. Anything they had to gain would be immediate destroyed. No, their friendship was fast and would last until dying breaths were drawn. Then there was his wife. Some say he was in love with her, some said they used one another. Some whispered of their acts of adultery and others were sure they were committed to one another. Fotios liked playing the ghost that no-one could pin down with fact.
Which meant this meeting was going to be frustrating at best and worrisome at its worst. He didn't like being put on the spot to commit to one side or the other, even if, internally, the choice was clear. Then again, there was no success without that final burst of courage it took to cease it. And if he aided Irakles in becoming King now... he would have the ear of the most powerful man in Taengea...
His arrival at the palati was greeted with far more servants than was necessary. Fotios had attended the meet with only two retainers, whom he commanded stayed with his horse in the grounds. He wasn't interested in having them press their ears to the doors to drop eaves on the intended meeting. Not when such a congregation of men were about to change the course of Taengean history.
Expecting a far larger ensemble or entourage for a Head of House, the half dozen slaves and servants who came to greet the Lord of Leventi, appeared surprised at their lack of tasks but rallied quickly, half moving to help the groomsmen care for the steed he had ridden between the manors and the other encouraging him into the palace and leading him down a handful of corridors to where the Prince was waiting for his guests.
Fotios attempted to assess the walls, the doors and the objects on display as he moved down the hallway, curious if any marks or clues had been left behind to form evidence of King Stephanos' escape. It didn't take a genius to work out that the crown prince of Colchis had left on the same day that His Majesty and his wife had disappeared from Taengea. With his niece Selene in toe no less. But the man was Colchian royalty - more than that: the future monarch of his realm. Which meant, pure coincidence (however obvious it might be) was not enough to condemn. Evidence would have to be found somewhere to prove his involvement. An eventuality of which Fotios wondered would ever pass. The man was a military tactician - as was the King. It would be curious to see whether militant or political assessment would win out in the end...
But for now, the escape was of little import. What was to be focused on was the opportunity it presented. Hence Prince Irakles insisting on the Heads of the Royal Houses attending upon him by noon that day. He was about to capitalise on the giant opportunity Stephanos had left behind by running. Not that the man had had any choice in the matter. But still... such chances couldn't be wasted.
This was the thought most prominent in Fotios' mind as he entered the sitting room the servants guided him into and moved across the heavily woven rug to greet the regent of the kingdom.
"My friend..." he said, simply, offering Irakles a one-armed embrace. "I come with everything you might need this day, regardless of consequence." His tone was light but his eyes serious as he reassured the man that he had his back in either case.
To wake up and immediately find that he had a missive from the palati for noon, after having spoken with Irakles so recently was a bit of a surprise. That the Prince Regent had ‘shocking news’ and wanted ‘advice moving forward’ was even more worrisome. Irakles was not known to seek advice. In fact, their dinner together, where he’d so delicately attempted to place Dimitrou Dynesteria on its guard had been under the same guise of ‘advice’ and yet Gavriil had given very little and almost none of it had been solicited. It was with these dark thoughts that Gavriil dressed that morning.
The care he took was far more than the prince had. Because he was being summoned to the palati, he wore the deep green colors of his house and fine leather sandals. His hair was combed back and held in place with a braid while the rest of it sat at his shoulders. The belt at his waist and the dark, nearly black himation over him gave him an austere, regal appearance. One he did not often don, but with recent events being what they were, he did not want to appear weak or uncertain to someone like Prince Irakles, who respected nothing but strength. While Irakles did not desire or need Irakles’s good opinion, there was nothing to gain by intentionally goading the man.
He mounted his blood mare and road toward the palati. Unlike Fotios, Gavriil was prompt, but not early. If the letter said noon, then by noon was when they could expect to see his face. Not before. Not after.
The same gaggle of servants that met Lord Fotios were less confused by the single retainer that Gavriil had brought with him, though no less annoyed. Why weren’t these barons ever doing what they were supposed to be doing? Of course Lord Dimitrou might value his privacy but couldn’t he at least put on the proper show? For shame. And Lord Fotios? What was his issue? Usually he was so proper, so precise and yet, he’d managed to get them all in a dither earlier as well. It was not to be borne. Whispers passed through the servant halls, but of course, the lords carried on how they would.
This was not Lord Gavriil’s house. Let the servants whisper. He did not care.
Without looking to the left or to the right, he moved through the halls, following along easily behind the man who led him to where Prince Irakles waited. He was announced into the room and moved into it far less enthusiastically than Lord Fotios had. His gaze swept over both men, and then he offered a bow to the prince, a nod to Lord Fotios, and a monosyllabic greeting to both. Standing at the edge of the conversation between the two men, he kept his hands folded in front of him and his face a mask.
Yes he was curious, but he also did not like being here either. For some reason, Irakles’s horrid morals aside, he’d never, ever, been comfortable around him. Not from a sense of danger to his person, but rather, to him, Prince Irakles invoked an aura of unrest and ill-ease, even if the man exuded nothing but confidence. Now, however, he was dressed and acting in a way that Gavriil had never seen. Irakles was dressed simply, almost as though his appearance was an afterthought - something terribly out of character.
Though he wanted to know, Gavriil did not ask what the matter was or why it was urgent. He did begin running through scenarios - perhaps the royal heir had been born in the night? Or perhaps, even worse, had not lived. Or maybe Irakles had suffered some loss of his own? But that did not explain his need for the heads of house.
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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To wake up and immediately find that he had a missive from the palati for noon, after having spoken with Irakles so recently was a bit of a surprise. That the Prince Regent had ‘shocking news’ and wanted ‘advice moving forward’ was even more worrisome. Irakles was not known to seek advice. In fact, their dinner together, where he’d so delicately attempted to place Dimitrou Dynesteria on its guard had been under the same guise of ‘advice’ and yet Gavriil had given very little and almost none of it had been solicited. It was with these dark thoughts that Gavriil dressed that morning.
The care he took was far more than the prince had. Because he was being summoned to the palati, he wore the deep green colors of his house and fine leather sandals. His hair was combed back and held in place with a braid while the rest of it sat at his shoulders. The belt at his waist and the dark, nearly black himation over him gave him an austere, regal appearance. One he did not often don, but with recent events being what they were, he did not want to appear weak or uncertain to someone like Prince Irakles, who respected nothing but strength. While Irakles did not desire or need Irakles’s good opinion, there was nothing to gain by intentionally goading the man.
He mounted his blood mare and road toward the palati. Unlike Fotios, Gavriil was prompt, but not early. If the letter said noon, then by noon was when they could expect to see his face. Not before. Not after.
The same gaggle of servants that met Lord Fotios were less confused by the single retainer that Gavriil had brought with him, though no less annoyed. Why weren’t these barons ever doing what they were supposed to be doing? Of course Lord Dimitrou might value his privacy but couldn’t he at least put on the proper show? For shame. And Lord Fotios? What was his issue? Usually he was so proper, so precise and yet, he’d managed to get them all in a dither earlier as well. It was not to be borne. Whispers passed through the servant halls, but of course, the lords carried on how they would.
This was not Lord Gavriil’s house. Let the servants whisper. He did not care.
Without looking to the left or to the right, he moved through the halls, following along easily behind the man who led him to where Prince Irakles waited. He was announced into the room and moved into it far less enthusiastically than Lord Fotios had. His gaze swept over both men, and then he offered a bow to the prince, a nod to Lord Fotios, and a monosyllabic greeting to both. Standing at the edge of the conversation between the two men, he kept his hands folded in front of him and his face a mask.
Yes he was curious, but he also did not like being here either. For some reason, Irakles’s horrid morals aside, he’d never, ever, been comfortable around him. Not from a sense of danger to his person, but rather, to him, Prince Irakles invoked an aura of unrest and ill-ease, even if the man exuded nothing but confidence. Now, however, he was dressed and acting in a way that Gavriil had never seen. Irakles was dressed simply, almost as though his appearance was an afterthought - something terribly out of character.
Though he wanted to know, Gavriil did not ask what the matter was or why it was urgent. He did begin running through scenarios - perhaps the royal heir had been born in the night? Or perhaps, even worse, had not lived. Or maybe Irakles had suffered some loss of his own? But that did not explain his need for the heads of house.
To wake up and immediately find that he had a missive from the palati for noon, after having spoken with Irakles so recently was a bit of a surprise. That the Prince Regent had ‘shocking news’ and wanted ‘advice moving forward’ was even more worrisome. Irakles was not known to seek advice. In fact, their dinner together, where he’d so delicately attempted to place Dimitrou Dynesteria on its guard had been under the same guise of ‘advice’ and yet Gavriil had given very little and almost none of it had been solicited. It was with these dark thoughts that Gavriil dressed that morning.
The care he took was far more than the prince had. Because he was being summoned to the palati, he wore the deep green colors of his house and fine leather sandals. His hair was combed back and held in place with a braid while the rest of it sat at his shoulders. The belt at his waist and the dark, nearly black himation over him gave him an austere, regal appearance. One he did not often don, but with recent events being what they were, he did not want to appear weak or uncertain to someone like Prince Irakles, who respected nothing but strength. While Irakles did not desire or need Irakles’s good opinion, there was nothing to gain by intentionally goading the man.
He mounted his blood mare and road toward the palati. Unlike Fotios, Gavriil was prompt, but not early. If the letter said noon, then by noon was when they could expect to see his face. Not before. Not after.
The same gaggle of servants that met Lord Fotios were less confused by the single retainer that Gavriil had brought with him, though no less annoyed. Why weren’t these barons ever doing what they were supposed to be doing? Of course Lord Dimitrou might value his privacy but couldn’t he at least put on the proper show? For shame. And Lord Fotios? What was his issue? Usually he was so proper, so precise and yet, he’d managed to get them all in a dither earlier as well. It was not to be borne. Whispers passed through the servant halls, but of course, the lords carried on how they would.
This was not Lord Gavriil’s house. Let the servants whisper. He did not care.
Without looking to the left or to the right, he moved through the halls, following along easily behind the man who led him to where Prince Irakles waited. He was announced into the room and moved into it far less enthusiastically than Lord Fotios had. His gaze swept over both men, and then he offered a bow to the prince, a nod to Lord Fotios, and a monosyllabic greeting to both. Standing at the edge of the conversation between the two men, he kept his hands folded in front of him and his face a mask.
Yes he was curious, but he also did not like being here either. For some reason, Irakles’s horrid morals aside, he’d never, ever, been comfortable around him. Not from a sense of danger to his person, but rather, to him, Prince Irakles invoked an aura of unrest and ill-ease, even if the man exuded nothing but confidence. Now, however, he was dressed and acting in a way that Gavriil had never seen. Irakles was dressed simply, almost as though his appearance was an afterthought - something terribly out of character.
Though he wanted to know, Gavriil did not ask what the matter was or why it was urgent. He did begin running through scenarios - perhaps the royal heir had been born in the night? Or perhaps, even worse, had not lived. Or maybe Irakles had suffered some loss of his own? But that did not explain his need for the heads of house.
With as many times as Nikos had found himself invited into the palati, he was beginning to fear that he would soon become a permanent fixture upon these steps. Albeit, the more often he saw Irakles outside of the formalities of court and in the greater intimacy of his own home, the closer his own goals came into reach.
Soon enough he would grab them by the reigns and ride into victory upon steeds more glorious than Helios'.
He and his entourage of servants were met with great enthusiasm as Nikos dismounted at the palati gates, the Mikaelidas crew standing by obviously excited by the opportunity to greet a sizeable cavalcade by the looks of the much smaller escorts brought by House Dimitrou and Leventi.
So House Condos would not be the only family present. Of course, he was not surprised, though; the urgent missive that woke him from his slumber, while brief, had been clear that this gathering was going to be no personal wine-and-dine shared between friends.
Being the last (and grandest) to enter, Nikos was determined to make his appearance in full-force. His robes dripped pigment as if they had been washed in a rainbow itself, and the horses and servants and carriage too were draped in Condos blue. His knees felt weak as he stepped from the carriage, shaky not only under the weight of the gold and jewels he adorned his body with but because he had spent the first half of the day organizing and dressing his convoy in House pride, with every accessory meticulously planned from freshly-clipped hair on his servants to the ribbons braided through his horses' tails. The order of flamboyancy was to spare no expense or detail, and his ostentatious display of wealth and power would surely exhibit his seriousness to make good impressions upon the most powerful men of Taengea, for he would alone would be representing his House this day. Nikolias would not be attending the council, having awoken ill and shaky, and as interim Head of House, Nikos was determined to do right by his father, even if the show cost him breakfast.
He hoped the rumbling of his stomach was muffled under his himation as he was escorted through the palace and into a small sitting room where Lord Gavriil, Lord Fotios, and Irakles were standing in wait. Nikos cast his eyes around the room, his stomach enthusiastically delighted to see a table set for four and a platter of figs and grapes awaiting his arrival. Nikos was saved from salavating down the front of his garbs by a tap from behind. Snatched from his hunger, with his stomach twinging in protest, he turned and was confronted by the three servants he had brought with him, each of them holding a sizeable earthenware container. His manners recovered, Nikos turned back towards the men with a smile and a one-armed gesture towards the servants. "Please, a gift," he purred, sending the servants to set the containers down near the table. "Only the finest of Condos wine for the finest men of Taengea."
Nikos stepped towards the men, dismissing the servants to join the rest of the group with a wave of his hand, and he gave a slight bow as he approached the assemble. "Lord Fotios, Lord Garviil, Prince Irakles. My pleasure." He rose from his shallow bow and let his eyes slide over the men. All had a solemn visage and an even graver countenance. Lord Gavriil's face seemed creased in worry, and the dark circles under Irakles eyes seemed more prominent than before. However, this did not make Nikos drop his smile, and he instead clasped his hands behind his back and let the soft, closed-lipped grin continue to rest on his face as he looked towards the men to return his greeting.
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With as many times as Nikos had found himself invited into the palati, he was beginning to fear that he would soon become a permanent fixture upon these steps. Albeit, the more often he saw Irakles outside of the formalities of court and in the greater intimacy of his own home, the closer his own goals came into reach.
Soon enough he would grab them by the reigns and ride into victory upon steeds more glorious than Helios'.
He and his entourage of servants were met with great enthusiasm as Nikos dismounted at the palati gates, the Mikaelidas crew standing by obviously excited by the opportunity to greet a sizeable cavalcade by the looks of the much smaller escorts brought by House Dimitrou and Leventi.
So House Condos would not be the only family present. Of course, he was not surprised, though; the urgent missive that woke him from his slumber, while brief, had been clear that this gathering was going to be no personal wine-and-dine shared between friends.
Being the last (and grandest) to enter, Nikos was determined to make his appearance in full-force. His robes dripped pigment as if they had been washed in a rainbow itself, and the horses and servants and carriage too were draped in Condos blue. His knees felt weak as he stepped from the carriage, shaky not only under the weight of the gold and jewels he adorned his body with but because he had spent the first half of the day organizing and dressing his convoy in House pride, with every accessory meticulously planned from freshly-clipped hair on his servants to the ribbons braided through his horses' tails. The order of flamboyancy was to spare no expense or detail, and his ostentatious display of wealth and power would surely exhibit his seriousness to make good impressions upon the most powerful men of Taengea, for he would alone would be representing his House this day. Nikolias would not be attending the council, having awoken ill and shaky, and as interim Head of House, Nikos was determined to do right by his father, even if the show cost him breakfast.
He hoped the rumbling of his stomach was muffled under his himation as he was escorted through the palace and into a small sitting room where Lord Gavriil, Lord Fotios, and Irakles were standing in wait. Nikos cast his eyes around the room, his stomach enthusiastically delighted to see a table set for four and a platter of figs and grapes awaiting his arrival. Nikos was saved from salavating down the front of his garbs by a tap from behind. Snatched from his hunger, with his stomach twinging in protest, he turned and was confronted by the three servants he had brought with him, each of them holding a sizeable earthenware container. His manners recovered, Nikos turned back towards the men with a smile and a one-armed gesture towards the servants. "Please, a gift," he purred, sending the servants to set the containers down near the table. "Only the finest of Condos wine for the finest men of Taengea."
Nikos stepped towards the men, dismissing the servants to join the rest of the group with a wave of his hand, and he gave a slight bow as he approached the assemble. "Lord Fotios, Lord Garviil, Prince Irakles. My pleasure." He rose from his shallow bow and let his eyes slide over the men. All had a solemn visage and an even graver countenance. Lord Gavriil's face seemed creased in worry, and the dark circles under Irakles eyes seemed more prominent than before. However, this did not make Nikos drop his smile, and he instead clasped his hands behind his back and let the soft, closed-lipped grin continue to rest on his face as he looked towards the men to return his greeting.
With as many times as Nikos had found himself invited into the palati, he was beginning to fear that he would soon become a permanent fixture upon these steps. Albeit, the more often he saw Irakles outside of the formalities of court and in the greater intimacy of his own home, the closer his own goals came into reach.
Soon enough he would grab them by the reigns and ride into victory upon steeds more glorious than Helios'.
He and his entourage of servants were met with great enthusiasm as Nikos dismounted at the palati gates, the Mikaelidas crew standing by obviously excited by the opportunity to greet a sizeable cavalcade by the looks of the much smaller escorts brought by House Dimitrou and Leventi.
So House Condos would not be the only family present. Of course, he was not surprised, though; the urgent missive that woke him from his slumber, while brief, had been clear that this gathering was going to be no personal wine-and-dine shared between friends.
Being the last (and grandest) to enter, Nikos was determined to make his appearance in full-force. His robes dripped pigment as if they had been washed in a rainbow itself, and the horses and servants and carriage too were draped in Condos blue. His knees felt weak as he stepped from the carriage, shaky not only under the weight of the gold and jewels he adorned his body with but because he had spent the first half of the day organizing and dressing his convoy in House pride, with every accessory meticulously planned from freshly-clipped hair on his servants to the ribbons braided through his horses' tails. The order of flamboyancy was to spare no expense or detail, and his ostentatious display of wealth and power would surely exhibit his seriousness to make good impressions upon the most powerful men of Taengea, for he would alone would be representing his House this day. Nikolias would not be attending the council, having awoken ill and shaky, and as interim Head of House, Nikos was determined to do right by his father, even if the show cost him breakfast.
He hoped the rumbling of his stomach was muffled under his himation as he was escorted through the palace and into a small sitting room where Lord Gavriil, Lord Fotios, and Irakles were standing in wait. Nikos cast his eyes around the room, his stomach enthusiastically delighted to see a table set for four and a platter of figs and grapes awaiting his arrival. Nikos was saved from salavating down the front of his garbs by a tap from behind. Snatched from his hunger, with his stomach twinging in protest, he turned and was confronted by the three servants he had brought with him, each of them holding a sizeable earthenware container. His manners recovered, Nikos turned back towards the men with a smile and a one-armed gesture towards the servants. "Please, a gift," he purred, sending the servants to set the containers down near the table. "Only the finest of Condos wine for the finest men of Taengea."
Nikos stepped towards the men, dismissing the servants to join the rest of the group with a wave of his hand, and he gave a slight bow as he approached the assemble. "Lord Fotios, Lord Garviil, Prince Irakles. My pleasure." He rose from his shallow bow and let his eyes slide over the men. All had a solemn visage and an even graver countenance. Lord Gavriil's face seemed creased in worry, and the dark circles under Irakles eyes seemed more prominent than before. However, this did not make Nikos drop his smile, and he instead clasped his hands behind his back and let the soft, closed-lipped grin continue to rest on his face as he looked towards the men to return his greeting.
If there was anyone he could rely on, Irakles knew he would be able to rely on Fotios when it came to ensuring everything on logistics and in the backend would work itself out. Fotios's quick note in return to his summons quelled any remaining worries Irakles may have, and he liked to believe he had slept easier the night prior to this meeting at the palati. Having updated Fotios, but kept the news to himself otherwise, Irakles was glad to see his friend be the first to arrive, and the prince returned his friend's one armed embrace with his own, a hearty laugh offered before gesturing for Fotios to take a seat.
"I knew I could count on you, my friend." he murmured in return. His tone sounded a little tired, but when asked, Irakles usually waved it off with a knowing smile, and many would chalk it up to the added responsibilities that are now on his plate. It all helped in Irakles's created visage of an old, tired uncle who was supposed to be a retired general now dredged back into active duty as a regeant prince due to the errant behavior of his young and immature nephew.
Exactly what he wanted.
Before more words could be exchanged between the two old friends hoever, Irakles caught sight of Gavriil entering, and offered a friendly smile to the Dimitrou lord, returning the respectful bow with a tilt of his head before waving the man in. "Please, find a seat m'lord. Once Lord Nikolias arrives, I will announce as to why I have asked for the meeting of us all." That it was only the Heads to the royal houses of Taengea should be a clue in and of itself as to the brevity of the situation.
Waving the servants in to fill the wine chalices of the two men, it was midway through the service of the slaves that the arrival of a Condos lord was announced - but not that of the one he expected. As Nikolias entered the room they were all now congregated in, Irakles's eyes registered surprise that he was here instead of his father, but did not allow that to show overly much. Instead, the man chuckled as he studied the containers the servants set down, and then gave Nikolias a thankful tilt of his head. "There was no need for such extravagance, but I must partake in it with my fellow royal Heads then, it must seem."
Gesturing for the servants to open the newly gifted bottle so it may air as they consumed the first bottle that Irakles had opened first, Irakles waved for Nikolias to take a seat and partake in the victuals offered, before he returned to his position standing in a manner that would allow him to observe all three faces at once whilst he spoke.
"I have not called upon all of you here for a matter to be taken lightly, for we are all busy men. However, I find myself needing your counsel in such a matter." At this juncture, Irakles paused, his head frowning as he shifted to press a knuckle to his chest, easing a knot in his chest that had formed and subsequently subsided. To everyone else however, the old prince merely seemed worried as he considered his next words.
"I'm afraid, my lords, that my nephew and his wife, the King and Queen of Taengea... are gone." He allowed his words to sink in for the moment, before continuing. "The palati servants informed me in the early hours of this morning, and upon questioning, the guards told me that they had witnessed the King and Queen's supposed transference of holding places. Except I did not ask for such a transference."
Sighing, the man put fingers to the bridge of his nose, biting his lip as the silence enveloped them. "I truly do wish to fight for the innocence of my nephew. I do. Yet such actions... do not bode well for him, my lords. I have sent out my men to look for him, but in the immediate areas around the capitol, they have come up with nothing. The search area would expand of course, but for now at this juncture... I'm afraid Taengea now finds itself with no King, and that is what I wish for your counsel with."
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If there was anyone he could rely on, Irakles knew he would be able to rely on Fotios when it came to ensuring everything on logistics and in the backend would work itself out. Fotios's quick note in return to his summons quelled any remaining worries Irakles may have, and he liked to believe he had slept easier the night prior to this meeting at the palati. Having updated Fotios, but kept the news to himself otherwise, Irakles was glad to see his friend be the first to arrive, and the prince returned his friend's one armed embrace with his own, a hearty laugh offered before gesturing for Fotios to take a seat.
"I knew I could count on you, my friend." he murmured in return. His tone sounded a little tired, but when asked, Irakles usually waved it off with a knowing smile, and many would chalk it up to the added responsibilities that are now on his plate. It all helped in Irakles's created visage of an old, tired uncle who was supposed to be a retired general now dredged back into active duty as a regeant prince due to the errant behavior of his young and immature nephew.
Exactly what he wanted.
Before more words could be exchanged between the two old friends hoever, Irakles caught sight of Gavriil entering, and offered a friendly smile to the Dimitrou lord, returning the respectful bow with a tilt of his head before waving the man in. "Please, find a seat m'lord. Once Lord Nikolias arrives, I will announce as to why I have asked for the meeting of us all." That it was only the Heads to the royal houses of Taengea should be a clue in and of itself as to the brevity of the situation.
Waving the servants in to fill the wine chalices of the two men, it was midway through the service of the slaves that the arrival of a Condos lord was announced - but not that of the one he expected. As Nikolias entered the room they were all now congregated in, Irakles's eyes registered surprise that he was here instead of his father, but did not allow that to show overly much. Instead, the man chuckled as he studied the containers the servants set down, and then gave Nikolias a thankful tilt of his head. "There was no need for such extravagance, but I must partake in it with my fellow royal Heads then, it must seem."
Gesturing for the servants to open the newly gifted bottle so it may air as they consumed the first bottle that Irakles had opened first, Irakles waved for Nikolias to take a seat and partake in the victuals offered, before he returned to his position standing in a manner that would allow him to observe all three faces at once whilst he spoke.
"I have not called upon all of you here for a matter to be taken lightly, for we are all busy men. However, I find myself needing your counsel in such a matter." At this juncture, Irakles paused, his head frowning as he shifted to press a knuckle to his chest, easing a knot in his chest that had formed and subsequently subsided. To everyone else however, the old prince merely seemed worried as he considered his next words.
"I'm afraid, my lords, that my nephew and his wife, the King and Queen of Taengea... are gone." He allowed his words to sink in for the moment, before continuing. "The palati servants informed me in the early hours of this morning, and upon questioning, the guards told me that they had witnessed the King and Queen's supposed transference of holding places. Except I did not ask for such a transference."
Sighing, the man put fingers to the bridge of his nose, biting his lip as the silence enveloped them. "I truly do wish to fight for the innocence of my nephew. I do. Yet such actions... do not bode well for him, my lords. I have sent out my men to look for him, but in the immediate areas around the capitol, they have come up with nothing. The search area would expand of course, but for now at this juncture... I'm afraid Taengea now finds itself with no King, and that is what I wish for your counsel with."
If there was anyone he could rely on, Irakles knew he would be able to rely on Fotios when it came to ensuring everything on logistics and in the backend would work itself out. Fotios's quick note in return to his summons quelled any remaining worries Irakles may have, and he liked to believe he had slept easier the night prior to this meeting at the palati. Having updated Fotios, but kept the news to himself otherwise, Irakles was glad to see his friend be the first to arrive, and the prince returned his friend's one armed embrace with his own, a hearty laugh offered before gesturing for Fotios to take a seat.
"I knew I could count on you, my friend." he murmured in return. His tone sounded a little tired, but when asked, Irakles usually waved it off with a knowing smile, and many would chalk it up to the added responsibilities that are now on his plate. It all helped in Irakles's created visage of an old, tired uncle who was supposed to be a retired general now dredged back into active duty as a regeant prince due to the errant behavior of his young and immature nephew.
Exactly what he wanted.
Before more words could be exchanged between the two old friends hoever, Irakles caught sight of Gavriil entering, and offered a friendly smile to the Dimitrou lord, returning the respectful bow with a tilt of his head before waving the man in. "Please, find a seat m'lord. Once Lord Nikolias arrives, I will announce as to why I have asked for the meeting of us all." That it was only the Heads to the royal houses of Taengea should be a clue in and of itself as to the brevity of the situation.
Waving the servants in to fill the wine chalices of the two men, it was midway through the service of the slaves that the arrival of a Condos lord was announced - but not that of the one he expected. As Nikolias entered the room they were all now congregated in, Irakles's eyes registered surprise that he was here instead of his father, but did not allow that to show overly much. Instead, the man chuckled as he studied the containers the servants set down, and then gave Nikolias a thankful tilt of his head. "There was no need for such extravagance, but I must partake in it with my fellow royal Heads then, it must seem."
Gesturing for the servants to open the newly gifted bottle so it may air as they consumed the first bottle that Irakles had opened first, Irakles waved for Nikolias to take a seat and partake in the victuals offered, before he returned to his position standing in a manner that would allow him to observe all three faces at once whilst he spoke.
"I have not called upon all of you here for a matter to be taken lightly, for we are all busy men. However, I find myself needing your counsel in such a matter." At this juncture, Irakles paused, his head frowning as he shifted to press a knuckle to his chest, easing a knot in his chest that had formed and subsequently subsided. To everyone else however, the old prince merely seemed worried as he considered his next words.
"I'm afraid, my lords, that my nephew and his wife, the King and Queen of Taengea... are gone." He allowed his words to sink in for the moment, before continuing. "The palati servants informed me in the early hours of this morning, and upon questioning, the guards told me that they had witnessed the King and Queen's supposed transference of holding places. Except I did not ask for such a transference."
Sighing, the man put fingers to the bridge of his nose, biting his lip as the silence enveloped them. "I truly do wish to fight for the innocence of my nephew. I do. Yet such actions... do not bode well for him, my lords. I have sent out my men to look for him, but in the immediate areas around the capitol, they have come up with nothing. The search area would expand of course, but for now at this juncture... I'm afraid Taengea now finds itself with no King, and that is what I wish for your counsel with."
Fotios was not a man to draw attention to himself in such meetings as these. He was man who operated behind closed doors, pre-arranged reactions and outcomes before the meeting in question. Regardless of the outcome of any major political meet, he did not want his own name swirling in the minds of those present as someone who was responsible for it. If you weren't the man who had determinedly placed an idea forward, you couldn't be the one blamed if and when it went array. Yet, if you positioned yourself well enough, you could still benefit from any successes, regardless of whether you were credited with them or not. It was simple mathematics of managing risk vs. gain.
Instead of being one of the first to react or make accusations when Prince Regent Irakles informed the group of the King and Queen's disappearance, Fotios stayed precisely where he was - standing to one side, with his arms folded over his chest, his eyes downcast. He made no attempts to act out surprise or shock as the others in the room would expect Irakles to have already shared such news with his closest friend. He didn't insult the intelligence of the heads of houses present by making some song and dance that would only lead them to distrust anything else that came out of his mouth. Instead, he spoke a little but calm and quiet, more removed from the group than the other three. His tone was severe and serious but unhurried; a simple statement of quiet fact that would push the conversation in the direction hoped for without draw attention with a big declaration or idea in and of itself...
"Taengea cannot be without a king." He commented quietly. His flickered across each party's face, allowing one of the others to actually voice a solution to the issue he had posed.
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Fotios was not a man to draw attention to himself in such meetings as these. He was man who operated behind closed doors, pre-arranged reactions and outcomes before the meeting in question. Regardless of the outcome of any major political meet, he did not want his own name swirling in the minds of those present as someone who was responsible for it. If you weren't the man who had determinedly placed an idea forward, you couldn't be the one blamed if and when it went array. Yet, if you positioned yourself well enough, you could still benefit from any successes, regardless of whether you were credited with them or not. It was simple mathematics of managing risk vs. gain.
Instead of being one of the first to react or make accusations when Prince Regent Irakles informed the group of the King and Queen's disappearance, Fotios stayed precisely where he was - standing to one side, with his arms folded over his chest, his eyes downcast. He made no attempts to act out surprise or shock as the others in the room would expect Irakles to have already shared such news with his closest friend. He didn't insult the intelligence of the heads of houses present by making some song and dance that would only lead them to distrust anything else that came out of his mouth. Instead, he spoke a little but calm and quiet, more removed from the group than the other three. His tone was severe and serious but unhurried; a simple statement of quiet fact that would push the conversation in the direction hoped for without draw attention with a big declaration or idea in and of itself...
"Taengea cannot be without a king." He commented quietly. His flickered across each party's face, allowing one of the others to actually voice a solution to the issue he had posed.
Fotios was not a man to draw attention to himself in such meetings as these. He was man who operated behind closed doors, pre-arranged reactions and outcomes before the meeting in question. Regardless of the outcome of any major political meet, he did not want his own name swirling in the minds of those present as someone who was responsible for it. If you weren't the man who had determinedly placed an idea forward, you couldn't be the one blamed if and when it went array. Yet, if you positioned yourself well enough, you could still benefit from any successes, regardless of whether you were credited with them or not. It was simple mathematics of managing risk vs. gain.
Instead of being one of the first to react or make accusations when Prince Regent Irakles informed the group of the King and Queen's disappearance, Fotios stayed precisely where he was - standing to one side, with his arms folded over his chest, his eyes downcast. He made no attempts to act out surprise or shock as the others in the room would expect Irakles to have already shared such news with his closest friend. He didn't insult the intelligence of the heads of houses present by making some song and dance that would only lead them to distrust anything else that came out of his mouth. Instead, he spoke a little but calm and quiet, more removed from the group than the other three. His tone was severe and serious but unhurried; a simple statement of quiet fact that would push the conversation in the direction hoped for without draw attention with a big declaration or idea in and of itself...
"Taengea cannot be without a king." He commented quietly. His flickered across each party's face, allowing one of the others to actually voice a solution to the issue he had posed.
Save for a widening of his eyes when Irakles divulged that the king and queen had taken flight, Gavriil did not react at all. He could not think why the king would do such a thing, and to take his queen and heir with him. After all, the queen surely had nothing to do with the murders. Gavriil had found it odd that she be inturned with her husband at all. That part he had not figured out, despite being assured that it was necessary. Nothing about this was looking right. In fact, nothing had been right since the death of King Zenon.
Everything had been rushed or sushed up. No one had even known that the prince was doing anything at all with the Leventi girl - though that also came as little surprise. If he was a betting man, Gavriil would have laid money down that Stephanos wouldn’t have even married the girl except that now he had to. The reason for that had become fairly obvious the last couple months. But the state of the crown was tenuous and he’d also found it incredibly strange that Irakles was so necessary to the running of things. All of it highly unusual.
Now the king and queen were gone with the sole heir of Zenon’s line, and yet here was Irakles, in apparent need of guidance, when the way forward was quite clear. He was of the house of Mikaelidas. Who else, if the others were not present, would rule but him? And he already acting as regent? All of these things circled Gavriil’s mind but none of the conclusions were good. For anyone. Why was Stephanos running? All the boy had to do was wait for trial?
He needed more time to think about this but there wasn’t more time. There needed to be an answer. Now. And Fotios was already giving his ascent to it by stating that there had to be leadership. Gavriil drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly through his nose. Flicking his gaze upwards, he kept his gaze on a corner of the room where the face of Athena was painted vividly on the wall, looking down at them. Make a wise decision.
That was the problem. There wasn’t really a decision to make. It was more a case of a bowstring being held taut, waiting for the order to let the arrow fly. They didn’t have a choice in Stephanos rising to the throne. Neither was there a real choice other than Irakles. While Gavriil respected Nikolias, he thought that Nikos would be a worse successor than Stephanos had ever been. At least with Irakles, his eldest son looked to have a good head on his shoulders. However many years they’d have until Achilleas took the reins.
“No,” he finally said. “It cannot.” His gaze rested heavily on Irakles. He wished such a compassionless man did not wield so much power. His thoughts were on Myrto and her unfortunate circumstances. He could not bring himself to be the one to state that Irakles should hold the throne, even though he knew it would happen, for certain.
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Save for a widening of his eyes when Irakles divulged that the king and queen had taken flight, Gavriil did not react at all. He could not think why the king would do such a thing, and to take his queen and heir with him. After all, the queen surely had nothing to do with the murders. Gavriil had found it odd that she be inturned with her husband at all. That part he had not figured out, despite being assured that it was necessary. Nothing about this was looking right. In fact, nothing had been right since the death of King Zenon.
Everything had been rushed or sushed up. No one had even known that the prince was doing anything at all with the Leventi girl - though that also came as little surprise. If he was a betting man, Gavriil would have laid money down that Stephanos wouldn’t have even married the girl except that now he had to. The reason for that had become fairly obvious the last couple months. But the state of the crown was tenuous and he’d also found it incredibly strange that Irakles was so necessary to the running of things. All of it highly unusual.
Now the king and queen were gone with the sole heir of Zenon’s line, and yet here was Irakles, in apparent need of guidance, when the way forward was quite clear. He was of the house of Mikaelidas. Who else, if the others were not present, would rule but him? And he already acting as regent? All of these things circled Gavriil’s mind but none of the conclusions were good. For anyone. Why was Stephanos running? All the boy had to do was wait for trial?
He needed more time to think about this but there wasn’t more time. There needed to be an answer. Now. And Fotios was already giving his ascent to it by stating that there had to be leadership. Gavriil drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly through his nose. Flicking his gaze upwards, he kept his gaze on a corner of the room where the face of Athena was painted vividly on the wall, looking down at them. Make a wise decision.
That was the problem. There wasn’t really a decision to make. It was more a case of a bowstring being held taut, waiting for the order to let the arrow fly. They didn’t have a choice in Stephanos rising to the throne. Neither was there a real choice other than Irakles. While Gavriil respected Nikolias, he thought that Nikos would be a worse successor than Stephanos had ever been. At least with Irakles, his eldest son looked to have a good head on his shoulders. However many years they’d have until Achilleas took the reins.
“No,” he finally said. “It cannot.” His gaze rested heavily on Irakles. He wished such a compassionless man did not wield so much power. His thoughts were on Myrto and her unfortunate circumstances. He could not bring himself to be the one to state that Irakles should hold the throne, even though he knew it would happen, for certain.
Save for a widening of his eyes when Irakles divulged that the king and queen had taken flight, Gavriil did not react at all. He could not think why the king would do such a thing, and to take his queen and heir with him. After all, the queen surely had nothing to do with the murders. Gavriil had found it odd that she be inturned with her husband at all. That part he had not figured out, despite being assured that it was necessary. Nothing about this was looking right. In fact, nothing had been right since the death of King Zenon.
Everything had been rushed or sushed up. No one had even known that the prince was doing anything at all with the Leventi girl - though that also came as little surprise. If he was a betting man, Gavriil would have laid money down that Stephanos wouldn’t have even married the girl except that now he had to. The reason for that had become fairly obvious the last couple months. But the state of the crown was tenuous and he’d also found it incredibly strange that Irakles was so necessary to the running of things. All of it highly unusual.
Now the king and queen were gone with the sole heir of Zenon’s line, and yet here was Irakles, in apparent need of guidance, when the way forward was quite clear. He was of the house of Mikaelidas. Who else, if the others were not present, would rule but him? And he already acting as regent? All of these things circled Gavriil’s mind but none of the conclusions were good. For anyone. Why was Stephanos running? All the boy had to do was wait for trial?
He needed more time to think about this but there wasn’t more time. There needed to be an answer. Now. And Fotios was already giving his ascent to it by stating that there had to be leadership. Gavriil drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly through his nose. Flicking his gaze upwards, he kept his gaze on a corner of the room where the face of Athena was painted vividly on the wall, looking down at them. Make a wise decision.
That was the problem. There wasn’t really a decision to make. It was more a case of a bowstring being held taut, waiting for the order to let the arrow fly. They didn’t have a choice in Stephanos rising to the throne. Neither was there a real choice other than Irakles. While Gavriil respected Nikolias, he thought that Nikos would be a worse successor than Stephanos had ever been. At least with Irakles, his eldest son looked to have a good head on his shoulders. However many years they’d have until Achilleas took the reins.
“No,” he finally said. “It cannot.” His gaze rested heavily on Irakles. He wished such a compassionless man did not wield so much power. His thoughts were on Myrto and her unfortunate circumstances. He could not bring himself to be the one to state that Irakles should hold the throne, even though he knew it would happen, for certain.
Nikos hurriedly joined Lord Gavriil at the small table, with a gracious nod at Irakles for the acceptance of his gift, for the atmosphere hung heavy around them with dire anticipation. Whatever was announced at this meeting would surely change Taengea forever. But, with Stephanos as acting king, he didn't see how any change in the current Royal family could lessen Taengea's standing any further.
Nikos settled in at the table quickly, not wanting to delay the council any longer, and as Irakles adjusted his position so that he was at the head of his three guests, Nikos took the opportunity to taste the provided wine. Perhaps a bit biased on his part, the wine wasn't as aromatic as the ones he had brought, but it was still very flavorful and smooth. Perhaps it had been from Condos after all? He swirled his chalice to aerate the wine a bit more as Irakles began to speak, with seemingly great worry and pain. He listened in silence as the regent delivered the news of Stephanos' apparent disappearance, save for the occasional sip from his goblet to wet his tongue.
So the King and Queen have fled.
Nikos reached for a fig as Irakles continued his strained narrative about Taengea's absence of leadership, but Nikos found the taste of such a sweet delicacy much more demanding of his attention than the "unfortunate" disappearance of Stephanos. He chewed as quietly as he could in the blanket of silence that smothered the room after Irakles' anecdote drew to a close, swallowing just as Fotios drew the obvious conclusion from the tale. Lord Gavriil, too, seconded the conclusion, but neither man seemed eager to announce exactly what that conclusion entailed.
Nikos suppressed a sigh. This discussion, this very meeting, was much too ceremonious when the obvious solution to the issue was sitting as an elephant in the room that no one wanted to (or was brave enough) to address. Nikos held his tongue, of course. He was here as a representative of his father and his father's opinions, not for himself. His opinions did not matter.
Nikos washed down his irritation with a gulp from his chalice before throwing his own support behind Lord Gavriil's words. "Taengea must have a king," Nikos said finally. For once, I agree with Fotios..."One who is present."
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Nikos hurriedly joined Lord Gavriil at the small table, with a gracious nod at Irakles for the acceptance of his gift, for the atmosphere hung heavy around them with dire anticipation. Whatever was announced at this meeting would surely change Taengea forever. But, with Stephanos as acting king, he didn't see how any change in the current Royal family could lessen Taengea's standing any further.
Nikos settled in at the table quickly, not wanting to delay the council any longer, and as Irakles adjusted his position so that he was at the head of his three guests, Nikos took the opportunity to taste the provided wine. Perhaps a bit biased on his part, the wine wasn't as aromatic as the ones he had brought, but it was still very flavorful and smooth. Perhaps it had been from Condos after all? He swirled his chalice to aerate the wine a bit more as Irakles began to speak, with seemingly great worry and pain. He listened in silence as the regent delivered the news of Stephanos' apparent disappearance, save for the occasional sip from his goblet to wet his tongue.
So the King and Queen have fled.
Nikos reached for a fig as Irakles continued his strained narrative about Taengea's absence of leadership, but Nikos found the taste of such a sweet delicacy much more demanding of his attention than the "unfortunate" disappearance of Stephanos. He chewed as quietly as he could in the blanket of silence that smothered the room after Irakles' anecdote drew to a close, swallowing just as Fotios drew the obvious conclusion from the tale. Lord Gavriil, too, seconded the conclusion, but neither man seemed eager to announce exactly what that conclusion entailed.
Nikos suppressed a sigh. This discussion, this very meeting, was much too ceremonious when the obvious solution to the issue was sitting as an elephant in the room that no one wanted to (or was brave enough) to address. Nikos held his tongue, of course. He was here as a representative of his father and his father's opinions, not for himself. His opinions did not matter.
Nikos washed down his irritation with a gulp from his chalice before throwing his own support behind Lord Gavriil's words. "Taengea must have a king," Nikos said finally. For once, I agree with Fotios..."One who is present."
Nikos hurriedly joined Lord Gavriil at the small table, with a gracious nod at Irakles for the acceptance of his gift, for the atmosphere hung heavy around them with dire anticipation. Whatever was announced at this meeting would surely change Taengea forever. But, with Stephanos as acting king, he didn't see how any change in the current Royal family could lessen Taengea's standing any further.
Nikos settled in at the table quickly, not wanting to delay the council any longer, and as Irakles adjusted his position so that he was at the head of his three guests, Nikos took the opportunity to taste the provided wine. Perhaps a bit biased on his part, the wine wasn't as aromatic as the ones he had brought, but it was still very flavorful and smooth. Perhaps it had been from Condos after all? He swirled his chalice to aerate the wine a bit more as Irakles began to speak, with seemingly great worry and pain. He listened in silence as the regent delivered the news of Stephanos' apparent disappearance, save for the occasional sip from his goblet to wet his tongue.
So the King and Queen have fled.
Nikos reached for a fig as Irakles continued his strained narrative about Taengea's absence of leadership, but Nikos found the taste of such a sweet delicacy much more demanding of his attention than the "unfortunate" disappearance of Stephanos. He chewed as quietly as he could in the blanket of silence that smothered the room after Irakles' anecdote drew to a close, swallowing just as Fotios drew the obvious conclusion from the tale. Lord Gavriil, too, seconded the conclusion, but neither man seemed eager to announce exactly what that conclusion entailed.
Nikos suppressed a sigh. This discussion, this very meeting, was much too ceremonious when the obvious solution to the issue was sitting as an elephant in the room that no one wanted to (or was brave enough) to address. Nikos held his tongue, of course. He was here as a representative of his father and his father's opinions, not for himself. His opinions did not matter.
Nikos washed down his irritation with a gulp from his chalice before throwing his own support behind Lord Gavriil's words. "Taengea must have a king," Nikos said finally. For once, I agree with Fotios..."One who is present."
His friend knew their plan. Afterall, it had taken both their minds to formulate the long arching plan. The plan has had its hiccups along the way of course, and much of it has changed.... but at the end of the day, this had always been the way they had intended to end it. For Irakles to be king, as he should be. Zenon ruled with too gentle a hand, and his brother would chip off more lands of Taengea as bartering pieces to maintain the disgusting peace he always strived for. He had never agreed with his younger half-brother's suggestions. No, he had always said, words that enraged Irakles each time. War would only bring bloodshed.
But war brought glory. And it was that glory that Irakles sought to find for his homeland, the very lands he had always wanted to maintain and grow. Would he not make a more suited leader compared to his fool of a brother and his wayward, carousing younger nephew?
Bending his head in a show of humility at Fotios's declaration that was quickly followed by Gavriil's and Nikos's, the bended head served dual purposes. It showed to all present that he merely accepted their decision, and played no part in actually making such a decision.
It also hid a smile.
To the rest of the Head's of the Taengean royal houses however, Irakles kept the satisfaction of his long plan coming to fruition aside, and merely cleared a throat and ensured the regretful, sorrowed look remained on his face as he gazed outside to the fields surrounding the palati. "Of course, my lords. Our kingdom should not remain without a king... yet such a matter has never come to pass before. At least, not under such circumstances." To have someone else crowned as King whilst one king was in parts unknown would require papers and signatories, one that would justify him as a King, and not merely a regeant until Stephanos was found.
"I promise I will do whatever it takes to seek out the location of my nephew and his wife, and until then, do my best to lead the kingdom to the best of my abilities, and of course with the help of your noble selves." Turning to them, Irakles gave them a bow, before gesturing at Fotios to take out whatever he has prepared. "In order to ensure Stephanos does not refute our decision until his name has been cleared however, perhaps a few steps of caution can ensure the throne remainds with the right hands until all matters of this instance can be cleared?"
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His friend knew their plan. Afterall, it had taken both their minds to formulate the long arching plan. The plan has had its hiccups along the way of course, and much of it has changed.... but at the end of the day, this had always been the way they had intended to end it. For Irakles to be king, as he should be. Zenon ruled with too gentle a hand, and his brother would chip off more lands of Taengea as bartering pieces to maintain the disgusting peace he always strived for. He had never agreed with his younger half-brother's suggestions. No, he had always said, words that enraged Irakles each time. War would only bring bloodshed.
But war brought glory. And it was that glory that Irakles sought to find for his homeland, the very lands he had always wanted to maintain and grow. Would he not make a more suited leader compared to his fool of a brother and his wayward, carousing younger nephew?
Bending his head in a show of humility at Fotios's declaration that was quickly followed by Gavriil's and Nikos's, the bended head served dual purposes. It showed to all present that he merely accepted their decision, and played no part in actually making such a decision.
It also hid a smile.
To the rest of the Head's of the Taengean royal houses however, Irakles kept the satisfaction of his long plan coming to fruition aside, and merely cleared a throat and ensured the regretful, sorrowed look remained on his face as he gazed outside to the fields surrounding the palati. "Of course, my lords. Our kingdom should not remain without a king... yet such a matter has never come to pass before. At least, not under such circumstances." To have someone else crowned as King whilst one king was in parts unknown would require papers and signatories, one that would justify him as a King, and not merely a regeant until Stephanos was found.
"I promise I will do whatever it takes to seek out the location of my nephew and his wife, and until then, do my best to lead the kingdom to the best of my abilities, and of course with the help of your noble selves." Turning to them, Irakles gave them a bow, before gesturing at Fotios to take out whatever he has prepared. "In order to ensure Stephanos does not refute our decision until his name has been cleared however, perhaps a few steps of caution can ensure the throne remainds with the right hands until all matters of this instance can be cleared?"
His friend knew their plan. Afterall, it had taken both their minds to formulate the long arching plan. The plan has had its hiccups along the way of course, and much of it has changed.... but at the end of the day, this had always been the way they had intended to end it. For Irakles to be king, as he should be. Zenon ruled with too gentle a hand, and his brother would chip off more lands of Taengea as bartering pieces to maintain the disgusting peace he always strived for. He had never agreed with his younger half-brother's suggestions. No, he had always said, words that enraged Irakles each time. War would only bring bloodshed.
But war brought glory. And it was that glory that Irakles sought to find for his homeland, the very lands he had always wanted to maintain and grow. Would he not make a more suited leader compared to his fool of a brother and his wayward, carousing younger nephew?
Bending his head in a show of humility at Fotios's declaration that was quickly followed by Gavriil's and Nikos's, the bended head served dual purposes. It showed to all present that he merely accepted their decision, and played no part in actually making such a decision.
It also hid a smile.
To the rest of the Head's of the Taengean royal houses however, Irakles kept the satisfaction of his long plan coming to fruition aside, and merely cleared a throat and ensured the regretful, sorrowed look remained on his face as he gazed outside to the fields surrounding the palati. "Of course, my lords. Our kingdom should not remain without a king... yet such a matter has never come to pass before. At least, not under such circumstances." To have someone else crowned as King whilst one king was in parts unknown would require papers and signatories, one that would justify him as a King, and not merely a regeant until Stephanos was found.
"I promise I will do whatever it takes to seek out the location of my nephew and his wife, and until then, do my best to lead the kingdom to the best of my abilities, and of course with the help of your noble selves." Turning to them, Irakles gave them a bow, before gesturing at Fotios to take out whatever he has prepared. "In order to ensure Stephanos does not refute our decision until his name has been cleared however, perhaps a few steps of caution can ensure the throne remainds with the right hands until all matters of this instance can be cleared?"
Staying quiet until he was indicated to come forward, Fotios was careful and appeared almost reluctant as he withdrew from a large leather bag two rolls of parchment. Were this a situation that allowed him to carry wet clay, tablets would have been more official but they would have to make do with the options they have.
"I've formalised the paperwork for two courses of action - whichever we here decide is the best for Taengea." He offered, raising the first of the rolls. "One is that we officially declare King Stephanos as missing, offer a reward and Prince Irakles continues to operate as Regent. This keeps out royal line direct, but also openly declares our king to be both missing and accused of treason." He spoke with a calm and unemotional tone - as if he didn't care which of the routes the men in the room decided to take, offering both pros and cons to each option. He raised the second roll. "This one declares that Stephanos of Mikaelidas has been found guilty of the treason he was accused of and is therefore removed from the line of succession. The royal line would then automatically shift to Prince Irakles and follow down to Lord Achilleas. We're forced to make a choice on Stephanos' guilt but we have a King, here and present..." He deliberately used the Lord Nikos' words in his suggestion.
Stepping forward to lay both pieces of parchment on the table, Fotios looked between the men and raised both hands, palms up, to indicate that the choice was now in the hands of each of them.
"We must take into consideration our own laws, our need for a king... not to mention our situation on an international level..." He glanced at Irakles. "I've heard disgruntled rumours rising from the delegates that left us recently. Friction with Egypt may grow." He swallowed as he turned to look at the other two men. "Personally, I do not feel that either option is perfect... only that we must choose which would be the least damaging to Taengea's present and future..."
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Staying quiet until he was indicated to come forward, Fotios was careful and appeared almost reluctant as he withdrew from a large leather bag two rolls of parchment. Were this a situation that allowed him to carry wet clay, tablets would have been more official but they would have to make do with the options they have.
"I've formalised the paperwork for two courses of action - whichever we here decide is the best for Taengea." He offered, raising the first of the rolls. "One is that we officially declare King Stephanos as missing, offer a reward and Prince Irakles continues to operate as Regent. This keeps out royal line direct, but also openly declares our king to be both missing and accused of treason." He spoke with a calm and unemotional tone - as if he didn't care which of the routes the men in the room decided to take, offering both pros and cons to each option. He raised the second roll. "This one declares that Stephanos of Mikaelidas has been found guilty of the treason he was accused of and is therefore removed from the line of succession. The royal line would then automatically shift to Prince Irakles and follow down to Lord Achilleas. We're forced to make a choice on Stephanos' guilt but we have a King, here and present..." He deliberately used the Lord Nikos' words in his suggestion.
Stepping forward to lay both pieces of parchment on the table, Fotios looked between the men and raised both hands, palms up, to indicate that the choice was now in the hands of each of them.
"We must take into consideration our own laws, our need for a king... not to mention our situation on an international level..." He glanced at Irakles. "I've heard disgruntled rumours rising from the delegates that left us recently. Friction with Egypt may grow." He swallowed as he turned to look at the other two men. "Personally, I do not feel that either option is perfect... only that we must choose which would be the least damaging to Taengea's present and future..."
Staying quiet until he was indicated to come forward, Fotios was careful and appeared almost reluctant as he withdrew from a large leather bag two rolls of parchment. Were this a situation that allowed him to carry wet clay, tablets would have been more official but they would have to make do with the options they have.
"I've formalised the paperwork for two courses of action - whichever we here decide is the best for Taengea." He offered, raising the first of the rolls. "One is that we officially declare King Stephanos as missing, offer a reward and Prince Irakles continues to operate as Regent. This keeps out royal line direct, but also openly declares our king to be both missing and accused of treason." He spoke with a calm and unemotional tone - as if he didn't care which of the routes the men in the room decided to take, offering both pros and cons to each option. He raised the second roll. "This one declares that Stephanos of Mikaelidas has been found guilty of the treason he was accused of and is therefore removed from the line of succession. The royal line would then automatically shift to Prince Irakles and follow down to Lord Achilleas. We're forced to make a choice on Stephanos' guilt but we have a King, here and present..." He deliberately used the Lord Nikos' words in his suggestion.
Stepping forward to lay both pieces of parchment on the table, Fotios looked between the men and raised both hands, palms up, to indicate that the choice was now in the hands of each of them.
"We must take into consideration our own laws, our need for a king... not to mention our situation on an international level..." He glanced at Irakles. "I've heard disgruntled rumours rising from the delegates that left us recently. Friction with Egypt may grow." He swallowed as he turned to look at the other two men. "Personally, I do not feel that either option is perfect... only that we must choose which would be the least damaging to Taengea's present and future..."
Gavriil approached the table but did not partake of anything on it. He kept standing in much the same way he had before; hands behind his back, expression impassive. All of this felt like high treason. Which, if Stephanos was innocent, it was. If he wasn’t, then it was most definitely necessary. The problem was that with the king and the queen missing, it threw weight behind his guilt. But Gavriil could not shake the feeling that this was all working out a little too well for Irakles.
There again, though, he couldn’t see the man before him performing murder. The battlefield was one thing. Domestic slaying was another. His own kills did not reflect on him as a person. This was why he was able and willing to try and come up with some third alternative that absolved both Stephanos and Irakles from guilt. He just...couldn’t find it at the moment.
Nothing about this meeting would have been off, if Fotios had not already had the documents needed to make Irakles king. That made Gavriil concerned. Shouldn’t the man be as unprepared as he and Nikos were? Or Irakles, for that matter? Irakles had looked heavily fatigued. A man who’d been robbed of sleep.
Now Gavriil was just confused and he didn’t like the feeling. None of his ideas were landing on ground he liked. However, he didn’t interrupt Fotios as the man laid out their options, but his insides twisted at both. The only difference in his stance that he made was to fold his arms in the front, step forward, and reach each document carefully, line by line, contemplating.
He was on the point of placing his palm on the regent one. It changed nothing except to back what Irakles had said; they would find Stephanos and wring the truth from his majesty’s neck, if necessary. But it would give Irakles power and legal authority necessary to do daily functions without stepping too far.
The other he was violently opposed to doing until Fotios delicately reminded everyone in the room about Egypt. Gavriil sighed through his nose. He still didn’t believe Stephanos guilty of murder and removing the man from the line of succession was drastic. However, that did give them Achilleas, eventually.
It was the foreign matters that tipped the scales for Gavriil. He hated, hated the idea of giving Irakles this much power, but at the same time, figured that the country couldn’t get much worse under Irakles’s rule. What concerned him was how cold the man was and indifferent to the suffering of others - something Zenon had not been.
“I will sign this,” Gavriil gently placed his finger on the parchment that would make Irakles king. He could have explained why but he didn’t want to. It wouldn’t earn him any friends.
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Gavriil approached the table but did not partake of anything on it. He kept standing in much the same way he had before; hands behind his back, expression impassive. All of this felt like high treason. Which, if Stephanos was innocent, it was. If he wasn’t, then it was most definitely necessary. The problem was that with the king and the queen missing, it threw weight behind his guilt. But Gavriil could not shake the feeling that this was all working out a little too well for Irakles.
There again, though, he couldn’t see the man before him performing murder. The battlefield was one thing. Domestic slaying was another. His own kills did not reflect on him as a person. This was why he was able and willing to try and come up with some third alternative that absolved both Stephanos and Irakles from guilt. He just...couldn’t find it at the moment.
Nothing about this meeting would have been off, if Fotios had not already had the documents needed to make Irakles king. That made Gavriil concerned. Shouldn’t the man be as unprepared as he and Nikos were? Or Irakles, for that matter? Irakles had looked heavily fatigued. A man who’d been robbed of sleep.
Now Gavriil was just confused and he didn’t like the feeling. None of his ideas were landing on ground he liked. However, he didn’t interrupt Fotios as the man laid out their options, but his insides twisted at both. The only difference in his stance that he made was to fold his arms in the front, step forward, and reach each document carefully, line by line, contemplating.
He was on the point of placing his palm on the regent one. It changed nothing except to back what Irakles had said; they would find Stephanos and wring the truth from his majesty’s neck, if necessary. But it would give Irakles power and legal authority necessary to do daily functions without stepping too far.
The other he was violently opposed to doing until Fotios delicately reminded everyone in the room about Egypt. Gavriil sighed through his nose. He still didn’t believe Stephanos guilty of murder and removing the man from the line of succession was drastic. However, that did give them Achilleas, eventually.
It was the foreign matters that tipped the scales for Gavriil. He hated, hated the idea of giving Irakles this much power, but at the same time, figured that the country couldn’t get much worse under Irakles’s rule. What concerned him was how cold the man was and indifferent to the suffering of others - something Zenon had not been.
“I will sign this,” Gavriil gently placed his finger on the parchment that would make Irakles king. He could have explained why but he didn’t want to. It wouldn’t earn him any friends.
Gavriil approached the table but did not partake of anything on it. He kept standing in much the same way he had before; hands behind his back, expression impassive. All of this felt like high treason. Which, if Stephanos was innocent, it was. If he wasn’t, then it was most definitely necessary. The problem was that with the king and the queen missing, it threw weight behind his guilt. But Gavriil could not shake the feeling that this was all working out a little too well for Irakles.
There again, though, he couldn’t see the man before him performing murder. The battlefield was one thing. Domestic slaying was another. His own kills did not reflect on him as a person. This was why he was able and willing to try and come up with some third alternative that absolved both Stephanos and Irakles from guilt. He just...couldn’t find it at the moment.
Nothing about this meeting would have been off, if Fotios had not already had the documents needed to make Irakles king. That made Gavriil concerned. Shouldn’t the man be as unprepared as he and Nikos were? Or Irakles, for that matter? Irakles had looked heavily fatigued. A man who’d been robbed of sleep.
Now Gavriil was just confused and he didn’t like the feeling. None of his ideas were landing on ground he liked. However, he didn’t interrupt Fotios as the man laid out their options, but his insides twisted at both. The only difference in his stance that he made was to fold his arms in the front, step forward, and reach each document carefully, line by line, contemplating.
He was on the point of placing his palm on the regent one. It changed nothing except to back what Irakles had said; they would find Stephanos and wring the truth from his majesty’s neck, if necessary. But it would give Irakles power and legal authority necessary to do daily functions without stepping too far.
The other he was violently opposed to doing until Fotios delicately reminded everyone in the room about Egypt. Gavriil sighed through his nose. He still didn’t believe Stephanos guilty of murder and removing the man from the line of succession was drastic. However, that did give them Achilleas, eventually.
It was the foreign matters that tipped the scales for Gavriil. He hated, hated the idea of giving Irakles this much power, but at the same time, figured that the country couldn’t get much worse under Irakles’s rule. What concerned him was how cold the man was and indifferent to the suffering of others - something Zenon had not been.
“I will sign this,” Gavriil gently placed his finger on the parchment that would make Irakles king. He could have explained why but he didn’t want to. It wouldn’t earn him any friends.
Nikos steadily munched on as the conversation's direction finally cornered away from aimless speculation and turned instead towards definitive action. Fotios, the prepared little secretary as always, produced from his bags two possible courses of action, prepared in advance of the meeting, of course. With a scroll in each hand, Fotios began to explain the nuances of both options, and Nikos drowned a groan with a hearty sip from his chalice.
Whichever one strips Stephanos of the most power... He suppressed an eyeroll with the help of another fig, listening halfheartedly over the sounds of his own chewing to the drone of Fotios' presentation. He popped a grape into his mouth next, but in those unfortunate seconds between swallowing the fig and reaching for the grape wherein there were no chewing sounds to distract his ears from The Fotios Production, Nikos had no choice but to hear the words 'removed from the line of succession.'
He stopped chewing.
Fotios' descriptions of the second scroll drew to a close, with Nikos listening quite closely to the rest of his words. Stephanos erased from the royal line entirely? This meeting has proved to be more favorable than I'd hoped. The scrolls were unrolled across the table, with the position of the first scroll unfortunately severing Nikos' line of access to any more figs, lest he endanger the paper with a stray drip from one of the fruits. He let out a disgruntled groan, hoping to disguise the noise as a product of being lost in thought over the scrolls rather than annoyance at being cut off from the refreshments.
He said nothing for a while as he looked over the papers with a scowl painted on his face, acting as if he was torn between the two options as if his long-held abhorrence of Stephanos hadn't already decided for him. He held his position of silent speculation until Lord Gavriil spoke first, pledging his signature to the second, more favorable choice before them. Nikos gave a slow nod of agreement, allowing a few seconds of pause to elapse between Lord Gavriil's words and his own.
He swept the room with a steely gaze before speaking at last in a weighted, almost strained tone, "With the threat of war growing each and every day, we must have a King to command our nation. We can no longer afford to have our people without a leader to unite behind." He paused. With great effort he held the tense expression on his face, the creases in his forehead. It took all he had not to reveal his elation with a smile, that his goal to one day remove Stephanos from power was now coming to fruition. And all it would take was his signature. "In the name of my father, I will sign with Lord Gavriil."
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Nikos steadily munched on as the conversation's direction finally cornered away from aimless speculation and turned instead towards definitive action. Fotios, the prepared little secretary as always, produced from his bags two possible courses of action, prepared in advance of the meeting, of course. With a scroll in each hand, Fotios began to explain the nuances of both options, and Nikos drowned a groan with a hearty sip from his chalice.
Whichever one strips Stephanos of the most power... He suppressed an eyeroll with the help of another fig, listening halfheartedly over the sounds of his own chewing to the drone of Fotios' presentation. He popped a grape into his mouth next, but in those unfortunate seconds between swallowing the fig and reaching for the grape wherein there were no chewing sounds to distract his ears from The Fotios Production, Nikos had no choice but to hear the words 'removed from the line of succession.'
He stopped chewing.
Fotios' descriptions of the second scroll drew to a close, with Nikos listening quite closely to the rest of his words. Stephanos erased from the royal line entirely? This meeting has proved to be more favorable than I'd hoped. The scrolls were unrolled across the table, with the position of the first scroll unfortunately severing Nikos' line of access to any more figs, lest he endanger the paper with a stray drip from one of the fruits. He let out a disgruntled groan, hoping to disguise the noise as a product of being lost in thought over the scrolls rather than annoyance at being cut off from the refreshments.
He said nothing for a while as he looked over the papers with a scowl painted on his face, acting as if he was torn between the two options as if his long-held abhorrence of Stephanos hadn't already decided for him. He held his position of silent speculation until Lord Gavriil spoke first, pledging his signature to the second, more favorable choice before them. Nikos gave a slow nod of agreement, allowing a few seconds of pause to elapse between Lord Gavriil's words and his own.
He swept the room with a steely gaze before speaking at last in a weighted, almost strained tone, "With the threat of war growing each and every day, we must have a King to command our nation. We can no longer afford to have our people without a leader to unite behind." He paused. With great effort he held the tense expression on his face, the creases in his forehead. It took all he had not to reveal his elation with a smile, that his goal to one day remove Stephanos from power was now coming to fruition. And all it would take was his signature. "In the name of my father, I will sign with Lord Gavriil."
Nikos steadily munched on as the conversation's direction finally cornered away from aimless speculation and turned instead towards definitive action. Fotios, the prepared little secretary as always, produced from his bags two possible courses of action, prepared in advance of the meeting, of course. With a scroll in each hand, Fotios began to explain the nuances of both options, and Nikos drowned a groan with a hearty sip from his chalice.
Whichever one strips Stephanos of the most power... He suppressed an eyeroll with the help of another fig, listening halfheartedly over the sounds of his own chewing to the drone of Fotios' presentation. He popped a grape into his mouth next, but in those unfortunate seconds between swallowing the fig and reaching for the grape wherein there were no chewing sounds to distract his ears from The Fotios Production, Nikos had no choice but to hear the words 'removed from the line of succession.'
He stopped chewing.
Fotios' descriptions of the second scroll drew to a close, with Nikos listening quite closely to the rest of his words. Stephanos erased from the royal line entirely? This meeting has proved to be more favorable than I'd hoped. The scrolls were unrolled across the table, with the position of the first scroll unfortunately severing Nikos' line of access to any more figs, lest he endanger the paper with a stray drip from one of the fruits. He let out a disgruntled groan, hoping to disguise the noise as a product of being lost in thought over the scrolls rather than annoyance at being cut off from the refreshments.
He said nothing for a while as he looked over the papers with a scowl painted on his face, acting as if he was torn between the two options as if his long-held abhorrence of Stephanos hadn't already decided for him. He held his position of silent speculation until Lord Gavriil spoke first, pledging his signature to the second, more favorable choice before them. Nikos gave a slow nod of agreement, allowing a few seconds of pause to elapse between Lord Gavriil's words and his own.
He swept the room with a steely gaze before speaking at last in a weighted, almost strained tone, "With the threat of war growing each and every day, we must have a King to command our nation. We can no longer afford to have our people without a leader to unite behind." He paused. With great effort he held the tense expression on his face, the creases in his forehead. It took all he had not to reveal his elation with a smile, that his goal to one day remove Stephanos from power was now coming to fruition. And all it would take was his signature. "In the name of my father, I will sign with Lord Gavriil."
He did his best to appear humble yet willing to learn - afterall, was that not the criteria's a King leading a country should have? The willingness to learn, the eagerness to query, and the want to do well by their people. Irakles is in no way a bad King, and he will rule well. He simply thinks he is the only one who is capable of ruling well, and that his brother and offspring were too soft to handle a job so tough as one that required the running of a country.
So who better to do it then himself?
Nodding as Fotios stepped forward with the paperwork he had asked his friend to prepare the night before, as well as the man's clever usage of words. To use the words of Lord Nikos in the way he did was intentional, of that Irakles was certain. Afterall, Nikos and his father had never really fully settled that Stephanos's candidacy as king was the best course of action for the kingdom. His few conversations with the Condos lords was enough for him to know they agreed with him. The only one who needed any convincing would be the Dimitrou lord, but Irakles doubted the hunter would want to see a country be headless.
He watched Gavriil contemplating the documents carefully. While the man fully had a backup plan should the Dimitrou lord disagree, he was not eager to engage in it. Far easier it would be, if Gavriil simply went along with what himself, Fotios and likely Nikos would agree with.
When Gavriil finally spoke, the man's agreement with the second scroll that would strip his nephew of royal lineage had Irakles fighting to suppress a grin. Instead, he merely managed a tight smile, that looked for all the world as if he too had to make a tough decision. To the elder Dimitrou, he gave a firm nod of his head as if thanking the man, and then turned to Nikos as he too spoke in agreement. To Nikos, Irakles clasps the younger male's shoulder, and gave another firm nod.
"I can only hope I would do justice to the trust you all place in me. Taengea has always been my first priority, and I will see to it that the threat of war will not fell our nation." he murmured with a steely resolve, the very voice General Irakles would use to strike loyalty from his battalion, and fear in his enemies.
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He did his best to appear humble yet willing to learn - afterall, was that not the criteria's a King leading a country should have? The willingness to learn, the eagerness to query, and the want to do well by their people. Irakles is in no way a bad King, and he will rule well. He simply thinks he is the only one who is capable of ruling well, and that his brother and offspring were too soft to handle a job so tough as one that required the running of a country.
So who better to do it then himself?
Nodding as Fotios stepped forward with the paperwork he had asked his friend to prepare the night before, as well as the man's clever usage of words. To use the words of Lord Nikos in the way he did was intentional, of that Irakles was certain. Afterall, Nikos and his father had never really fully settled that Stephanos's candidacy as king was the best course of action for the kingdom. His few conversations with the Condos lords was enough for him to know they agreed with him. The only one who needed any convincing would be the Dimitrou lord, but Irakles doubted the hunter would want to see a country be headless.
He watched Gavriil contemplating the documents carefully. While the man fully had a backup plan should the Dimitrou lord disagree, he was not eager to engage in it. Far easier it would be, if Gavriil simply went along with what himself, Fotios and likely Nikos would agree with.
When Gavriil finally spoke, the man's agreement with the second scroll that would strip his nephew of royal lineage had Irakles fighting to suppress a grin. Instead, he merely managed a tight smile, that looked for all the world as if he too had to make a tough decision. To the elder Dimitrou, he gave a firm nod of his head as if thanking the man, and then turned to Nikos as he too spoke in agreement. To Nikos, Irakles clasps the younger male's shoulder, and gave another firm nod.
"I can only hope I would do justice to the trust you all place in me. Taengea has always been my first priority, and I will see to it that the threat of war will not fell our nation." he murmured with a steely resolve, the very voice General Irakles would use to strike loyalty from his battalion, and fear in his enemies.
He did his best to appear humble yet willing to learn - afterall, was that not the criteria's a King leading a country should have? The willingness to learn, the eagerness to query, and the want to do well by their people. Irakles is in no way a bad King, and he will rule well. He simply thinks he is the only one who is capable of ruling well, and that his brother and offspring were too soft to handle a job so tough as one that required the running of a country.
So who better to do it then himself?
Nodding as Fotios stepped forward with the paperwork he had asked his friend to prepare the night before, as well as the man's clever usage of words. To use the words of Lord Nikos in the way he did was intentional, of that Irakles was certain. Afterall, Nikos and his father had never really fully settled that Stephanos's candidacy as king was the best course of action for the kingdom. His few conversations with the Condos lords was enough for him to know they agreed with him. The only one who needed any convincing would be the Dimitrou lord, but Irakles doubted the hunter would want to see a country be headless.
He watched Gavriil contemplating the documents carefully. While the man fully had a backup plan should the Dimitrou lord disagree, he was not eager to engage in it. Far easier it would be, if Gavriil simply went along with what himself, Fotios and likely Nikos would agree with.
When Gavriil finally spoke, the man's agreement with the second scroll that would strip his nephew of royal lineage had Irakles fighting to suppress a grin. Instead, he merely managed a tight smile, that looked for all the world as if he too had to make a tough decision. To the elder Dimitrou, he gave a firm nod of his head as if thanking the man, and then turned to Nikos as he too spoke in agreement. To Nikos, Irakles clasps the younger male's shoulder, and gave another firm nod.
"I can only hope I would do justice to the trust you all place in me. Taengea has always been my first priority, and I will see to it that the threat of war will not fell our nation." he murmured with a steely resolve, the very voice General Irakles would use to strike loyalty from his battalion, and fear in his enemies.
"I can only hope I would do justice to the trust you all place in me. Taengea has always been my first priority, and I will see to it that the threat of war will not fell our nation."
Trust was a strong word to use, at least in reference to the ‘why’s’ for Gavriil. He didn’t trust Irakles’s personal reasons as far as he could toss the man. But Irakles wasn’t a fool and with Stephanos gone, he’d rather Irakles and his line than Nikolias and the peacock son that would inherit after.
“See that you do,” Gavriil stood with his hands affixed behind his back, watching Irakles with a wholly stoney expression. “Taengea needs stability. Not upset.” That Irakles was vowing for there not to be a war with Egypt was good to hear but also, Gavriil felt, a little odd. Irakles was a glory hound and there was no better way to cement a king’s rule than through war. If there was anything on this planet that Gavriil trusted Irakles to do, it was to lead armies and to do it well. Politics? They’d have to wait and see.
Unlike Nikos, Gavriil did not revel in these sorts of clandestine meetings. They happened from time to time and he performed his duty, but he did not wish to stay and congratulate Irakles. He liked the man too little. As for Lord Fotios, he didn’t know him enough to have a real opinion one way or another and Nikos? He was in the same boat as Irakles. Gavriil didn’t like him in the least. The boy was nothing like the father, who was Gavriil’s friend.
“If there’s nothing else,” Gavriil nodded to them all, gave a bow to Irakles, and then walked toward the door. “I bid you a good morning.” He left the room, trusting that if he was still needed, the others could rush into the hallway to call him back. Otherwise, he needed to get home. There was quite a lot to consider after the happenings of this morning.
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"I can only hope I would do justice to the trust you all place in me. Taengea has always been my first priority, and I will see to it that the threat of war will not fell our nation."
Trust was a strong word to use, at least in reference to the ‘why’s’ for Gavriil. He didn’t trust Irakles’s personal reasons as far as he could toss the man. But Irakles wasn’t a fool and with Stephanos gone, he’d rather Irakles and his line than Nikolias and the peacock son that would inherit after.
“See that you do,” Gavriil stood with his hands affixed behind his back, watching Irakles with a wholly stoney expression. “Taengea needs stability. Not upset.” That Irakles was vowing for there not to be a war with Egypt was good to hear but also, Gavriil felt, a little odd. Irakles was a glory hound and there was no better way to cement a king’s rule than through war. If there was anything on this planet that Gavriil trusted Irakles to do, it was to lead armies and to do it well. Politics? They’d have to wait and see.
Unlike Nikos, Gavriil did not revel in these sorts of clandestine meetings. They happened from time to time and he performed his duty, but he did not wish to stay and congratulate Irakles. He liked the man too little. As for Lord Fotios, he didn’t know him enough to have a real opinion one way or another and Nikos? He was in the same boat as Irakles. Gavriil didn’t like him in the least. The boy was nothing like the father, who was Gavriil’s friend.
“If there’s nothing else,” Gavriil nodded to them all, gave a bow to Irakles, and then walked toward the door. “I bid you a good morning.” He left the room, trusting that if he was still needed, the others could rush into the hallway to call him back. Otherwise, he needed to get home. There was quite a lot to consider after the happenings of this morning.
"I can only hope I would do justice to the trust you all place in me. Taengea has always been my first priority, and I will see to it that the threat of war will not fell our nation."
Trust was a strong word to use, at least in reference to the ‘why’s’ for Gavriil. He didn’t trust Irakles’s personal reasons as far as he could toss the man. But Irakles wasn’t a fool and with Stephanos gone, he’d rather Irakles and his line than Nikolias and the peacock son that would inherit after.
“See that you do,” Gavriil stood with his hands affixed behind his back, watching Irakles with a wholly stoney expression. “Taengea needs stability. Not upset.” That Irakles was vowing for there not to be a war with Egypt was good to hear but also, Gavriil felt, a little odd. Irakles was a glory hound and there was no better way to cement a king’s rule than through war. If there was anything on this planet that Gavriil trusted Irakles to do, it was to lead armies and to do it well. Politics? They’d have to wait and see.
Unlike Nikos, Gavriil did not revel in these sorts of clandestine meetings. They happened from time to time and he performed his duty, but he did not wish to stay and congratulate Irakles. He liked the man too little. As for Lord Fotios, he didn’t know him enough to have a real opinion one way or another and Nikos? He was in the same boat as Irakles. Gavriil didn’t like him in the least. The boy was nothing like the father, who was Gavriil’s friend.
“If there’s nothing else,” Gavriil nodded to them all, gave a bow to Irakles, and then walked toward the door. “I bid you a good morning.” He left the room, trusting that if he was still needed, the others could rush into the hallway to call him back. Otherwise, he needed to get home. There was quite a lot to consider after the happenings of this morning.
Whilst the other two heads of house that were invited to the meet - one who held his position with respect and had done so for many years, the other who was operating as a pseudo-head in the place of his father - dithered, discussed, considered and then finally signed the document that nominated Irakles as King and condemned Stephanos of a treason and out of the line of succession for the crown, Fotios was much calmer in how he went about business.
As soon as the other two had signed the document and sealed it with the rings of their Houses that bore the crests of the Condos rose and the Dimitrou stag, Fotios quietly stepped forward and with an exhale of duty, repeated the same action for his own House, effectively sealing the decision as a whole and ensuring that Irakles was now monarch and king of Taengea.
Turning to look and then offer a shallow bow to his friend, Fotios said nothing as the men began to file from the room. Having acted out what they had arrived to see done, it felt like a farce to then hover and spend time with those they had committed the act with over a cup of wine or a side of meat. This had not been a social call. It had been a step in the direction of Taengea's famed history. It did not need to be cheapened by faked acts of friendship and casual camaraderie.
Seeing both Lord Gavriil and Lord Nikos from the room, Fotios then turned to collect the papers that he would ensure were taken to the Vasiliadon house of records before the sun fell that day, making Irakles officially reigning monarch. He smiled at his friend, as he drew the paperwork into his bag.
"And so, dawns the age of a new king." He told the man with a victorious clap to his hulking shoulder. And with that, he followed in the treads of the other representatives of the Taengean royal families, eager to ensure that such a meet was turned legal as soon as his feet could carry him to the appropriate offices of administration, in the heart of Vasiliadon.
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Whilst the other two heads of house that were invited to the meet - one who held his position with respect and had done so for many years, the other who was operating as a pseudo-head in the place of his father - dithered, discussed, considered and then finally signed the document that nominated Irakles as King and condemned Stephanos of a treason and out of the line of succession for the crown, Fotios was much calmer in how he went about business.
As soon as the other two had signed the document and sealed it with the rings of their Houses that bore the crests of the Condos rose and the Dimitrou stag, Fotios quietly stepped forward and with an exhale of duty, repeated the same action for his own House, effectively sealing the decision as a whole and ensuring that Irakles was now monarch and king of Taengea.
Turning to look and then offer a shallow bow to his friend, Fotios said nothing as the men began to file from the room. Having acted out what they had arrived to see done, it felt like a farce to then hover and spend time with those they had committed the act with over a cup of wine or a side of meat. This had not been a social call. It had been a step in the direction of Taengea's famed history. It did not need to be cheapened by faked acts of friendship and casual camaraderie.
Seeing both Lord Gavriil and Lord Nikos from the room, Fotios then turned to collect the papers that he would ensure were taken to the Vasiliadon house of records before the sun fell that day, making Irakles officially reigning monarch. He smiled at his friend, as he drew the paperwork into his bag.
"And so, dawns the age of a new king." He told the man with a victorious clap to his hulking shoulder. And with that, he followed in the treads of the other representatives of the Taengean royal families, eager to ensure that such a meet was turned legal as soon as his feet could carry him to the appropriate offices of administration, in the heart of Vasiliadon.
Whilst the other two heads of house that were invited to the meet - one who held his position with respect and had done so for many years, the other who was operating as a pseudo-head in the place of his father - dithered, discussed, considered and then finally signed the document that nominated Irakles as King and condemned Stephanos of a treason and out of the line of succession for the crown, Fotios was much calmer in how he went about business.
As soon as the other two had signed the document and sealed it with the rings of their Houses that bore the crests of the Condos rose and the Dimitrou stag, Fotios quietly stepped forward and with an exhale of duty, repeated the same action for his own House, effectively sealing the decision as a whole and ensuring that Irakles was now monarch and king of Taengea.
Turning to look and then offer a shallow bow to his friend, Fotios said nothing as the men began to file from the room. Having acted out what they had arrived to see done, it felt like a farce to then hover and spend time with those they had committed the act with over a cup of wine or a side of meat. This had not been a social call. It had been a step in the direction of Taengea's famed history. It did not need to be cheapened by faked acts of friendship and casual camaraderie.
Seeing both Lord Gavriil and Lord Nikos from the room, Fotios then turned to collect the papers that he would ensure were taken to the Vasiliadon house of records before the sun fell that day, making Irakles officially reigning monarch. He smiled at his friend, as he drew the paperwork into his bag.
"And so, dawns the age of a new king." He told the man with a victorious clap to his hulking shoulder. And with that, he followed in the treads of the other representatives of the Taengean royal families, eager to ensure that such a meet was turned legal as soon as his feet could carry him to the appropriate offices of administration, in the heart of Vasiliadon.