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The Lord Mikaelidas had found himself -unexpectedly- with some free time on his hands. His father, in some act of pique, had seen fit to reassign the responsibilities Achilleas was used to in respect of his barony, and not only that but had passed on the duties his eldest had been doing in his stead for the House of Mikaelidas onto Emilios. It was a sore blow indeed, and for one used to being busy, Achilleas was at a bit of a loss as to what to do to fill his hours.
Despite his father’s repeated reminders to ensure arrangements for the forthcoming wedding were all in hand, Achilleas had been assured by both his mother and Theodora that all was taken care of, so he could find nothing to do there. The morning then had seen him go into the city proper, seek out the jeweller that had been a long time favourite of the family. He had mentioned in to Theodora’s sister, that he wanted to get his betrothed a gift to give before they were wed. There had been so many delays and obstacles thrown in the path of their nuptials, and even since speaking to Olympia, the picture had shifted again, what with his cousin the King and his wife now being under house arrest in the Palati.
It was to be a token really, just something to let Theodora know that beyond all of the drama and unrest that had beset their home over the past months, that he was still thinking of her amongst it all. And given his suddenly unfull schedule, it had seemed an opportune time. Achilleas had sat patiently as the craftsman had pulled out piece after piece. Or at least, he had started off patiently, and then by the tenth item presented to him, he was beginning to wish he had just sent someone else to do this. The amount of attention he paid to women’s jewellery was clearly lacking, for he had no idea there were so many subtleties involved. It was as the man got out another case that he panicked.
“Look…just, perhaps just show me what you think a fitting gift to my bride” he interrupted, slight exasperation evident in his tone. He remembered what Olympia had said and threw that in too. “ Something to welcome her into the Mikaelidas family, something with a lion”
To his immense relief, that seemed to give the old jeweller some focus, and he bowed and then cleared away the many strands of gold and jewels that he had already shown to the Lord. It was much easier then, for Achilleas to select something he thought Theodora would like, request that the semi precious gems used were replaced with something finer, and arrange for the bracelet to be delivered to the manor the next day.
Nevertheless, he felt like he had been there a long while by the time he escaped into the sunshine, and made a note to avoid any such grand gestures for a long while. Theodora could just choose her own jewellery.
It did leave him at rather a loose end though, and he tried not to let the reason why sour his mood anymore than it already had. Aimlessly wandering was almost an unknown for the General, and he somehow ended up at the Naos to Aphrodite. He did not enter, but rather stood a while and watched the comings and goings of those offering their devotions. It was rumoured that the goddess herself had gifted Theodora with her beauty, and in was a Priestess of Aphrodite that would marry them in a few short days. With such things in mind, Achilleas decided it could not do any harm to make an offering to the Goddess to look favourably upon their match. He was here anyway, and it was not as if there was anything else demanding his attention. So he paid a few coin to one of the commoners selling armfuls of rose and myrtle, and headed toward the temple itself so he might lay them before the statue of the Goddess herself.
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The Lord Mikaelidas had found himself -unexpectedly- with some free time on his hands. His father, in some act of pique, had seen fit to reassign the responsibilities Achilleas was used to in respect of his barony, and not only that but had passed on the duties his eldest had been doing in his stead for the House of Mikaelidas onto Emilios. It was a sore blow indeed, and for one used to being busy, Achilleas was at a bit of a loss as to what to do to fill his hours.
Despite his father’s repeated reminders to ensure arrangements for the forthcoming wedding were all in hand, Achilleas had been assured by both his mother and Theodora that all was taken care of, so he could find nothing to do there. The morning then had seen him go into the city proper, seek out the jeweller that had been a long time favourite of the family. He had mentioned in to Theodora’s sister, that he wanted to get his betrothed a gift to give before they were wed. There had been so many delays and obstacles thrown in the path of their nuptials, and even since speaking to Olympia, the picture had shifted again, what with his cousin the King and his wife now being under house arrest in the Palati.
It was to be a token really, just something to let Theodora know that beyond all of the drama and unrest that had beset their home over the past months, that he was still thinking of her amongst it all. And given his suddenly unfull schedule, it had seemed an opportune time. Achilleas had sat patiently as the craftsman had pulled out piece after piece. Or at least, he had started off patiently, and then by the tenth item presented to him, he was beginning to wish he had just sent someone else to do this. The amount of attention he paid to women’s jewellery was clearly lacking, for he had no idea there were so many subtleties involved. It was as the man got out another case that he panicked.
“Look…just, perhaps just show me what you think a fitting gift to my bride” he interrupted, slight exasperation evident in his tone. He remembered what Olympia had said and threw that in too. “ Something to welcome her into the Mikaelidas family, something with a lion”
To his immense relief, that seemed to give the old jeweller some focus, and he bowed and then cleared away the many strands of gold and jewels that he had already shown to the Lord. It was much easier then, for Achilleas to select something he thought Theodora would like, request that the semi precious gems used were replaced with something finer, and arrange for the bracelet to be delivered to the manor the next day.
Nevertheless, he felt like he had been there a long while by the time he escaped into the sunshine, and made a note to avoid any such grand gestures for a long while. Theodora could just choose her own jewellery.
It did leave him at rather a loose end though, and he tried not to let the reason why sour his mood anymore than it already had. Aimlessly wandering was almost an unknown for the General, and he somehow ended up at the Naos to Aphrodite. He did not enter, but rather stood a while and watched the comings and goings of those offering their devotions. It was rumoured that the goddess herself had gifted Theodora with her beauty, and in was a Priestess of Aphrodite that would marry them in a few short days. With such things in mind, Achilleas decided it could not do any harm to make an offering to the Goddess to look favourably upon their match. He was here anyway, and it was not as if there was anything else demanding his attention. So he paid a few coin to one of the commoners selling armfuls of rose and myrtle, and headed toward the temple itself so he might lay them before the statue of the Goddess herself.
The Lord Mikaelidas had found himself -unexpectedly- with some free time on his hands. His father, in some act of pique, had seen fit to reassign the responsibilities Achilleas was used to in respect of his barony, and not only that but had passed on the duties his eldest had been doing in his stead for the House of Mikaelidas onto Emilios. It was a sore blow indeed, and for one used to being busy, Achilleas was at a bit of a loss as to what to do to fill his hours.
Despite his father’s repeated reminders to ensure arrangements for the forthcoming wedding were all in hand, Achilleas had been assured by both his mother and Theodora that all was taken care of, so he could find nothing to do there. The morning then had seen him go into the city proper, seek out the jeweller that had been a long time favourite of the family. He had mentioned in to Theodora’s sister, that he wanted to get his betrothed a gift to give before they were wed. There had been so many delays and obstacles thrown in the path of their nuptials, and even since speaking to Olympia, the picture had shifted again, what with his cousin the King and his wife now being under house arrest in the Palati.
It was to be a token really, just something to let Theodora know that beyond all of the drama and unrest that had beset their home over the past months, that he was still thinking of her amongst it all. And given his suddenly unfull schedule, it had seemed an opportune time. Achilleas had sat patiently as the craftsman had pulled out piece after piece. Or at least, he had started off patiently, and then by the tenth item presented to him, he was beginning to wish he had just sent someone else to do this. The amount of attention he paid to women’s jewellery was clearly lacking, for he had no idea there were so many subtleties involved. It was as the man got out another case that he panicked.
“Look…just, perhaps just show me what you think a fitting gift to my bride” he interrupted, slight exasperation evident in his tone. He remembered what Olympia had said and threw that in too. “ Something to welcome her into the Mikaelidas family, something with a lion”
To his immense relief, that seemed to give the old jeweller some focus, and he bowed and then cleared away the many strands of gold and jewels that he had already shown to the Lord. It was much easier then, for Achilleas to select something he thought Theodora would like, request that the semi precious gems used were replaced with something finer, and arrange for the bracelet to be delivered to the manor the next day.
Nevertheless, he felt like he had been there a long while by the time he escaped into the sunshine, and made a note to avoid any such grand gestures for a long while. Theodora could just choose her own jewellery.
It did leave him at rather a loose end though, and he tried not to let the reason why sour his mood anymore than it already had. Aimlessly wandering was almost an unknown for the General, and he somehow ended up at the Naos to Aphrodite. He did not enter, but rather stood a while and watched the comings and goings of those offering their devotions. It was rumoured that the goddess herself had gifted Theodora with her beauty, and in was a Priestess of Aphrodite that would marry them in a few short days. With such things in mind, Achilleas decided it could not do any harm to make an offering to the Goddess to look favourably upon their match. He was here anyway, and it was not as if there was anything else demanding his attention. So he paid a few coin to one of the commoners selling armfuls of rose and myrtle, and headed toward the temple itself so he might lay them before the statue of the Goddess herself.
“You do realize how expensive priestesses are?” Lukos checked for the second time as he and Arktos walked up from the docks and through the city. The seven foot tall giant at his side nodded stubbornly. Lukos sighed and crossed his arms. “I still think this is stupid. Whores are easier.”
“And less pretty,” Arktos reminded him. The big man surveyed Aphrodite’s temple as they neared it. “Each virgin woman is chosen at peak blossom. She is lovely and pure…” he smiled softly to himself. Lukos stared up at him.
“You understand they’re basically whores at this point, right? Unless you get an initiate?”
“It’s worship,” Arktos hissed, slapping the back of one huge hand against the meaty palm of the other. “Something you should do more of, Captain.”
“Eh,” Lukos crossed his arms and smirked to himself. “I’ll just pay for regular old whores, thanks. You go ‘worship’. The goddess hasn’t done you any favors.” He laughed when Arktos glared at him but the bigger man didn’t actually dispute this observation.
“Keep that up, Captain and one day you’ll get cursed.”
“Nah,” Lukos walked with his hands clasped behind his head, basking in the sunlight. “Haven’t you noticed? I’m the luckiest man in Greece.”
Arktos privately thought that this was and was not true. His captain seemed not to take into account recent events that had transpired to make it so that they could no longer go to Athenia. In fact, he’d noted that Lukos refused to reference anything about it at all - like it never happened. The only thing he really did do differently was to be overly antagonistic to the noble class in general, and women most of all. It was becoming an issue and, as first mate, perhaps it was Arktos’s business to say so...but he didn’t want to. Lukos could be volatile and while he was in a good mood, the big man wanted to keep it that way by avoiding all talk of certain deceased people.
“Uh huh…” was all Arktos said in response. The two men made their way along the white stone path that led up to the temple. It was there that Lukos sat at the feet of a statue, watching the comings and goings of the populace, while Arktos stood beside him, also watching people. For all that the big man had been whining and complaining about wanting to come here so he could fuck a priestess, the man wasn’t doing much besides turning red and looking about him as though one of the priestesses might present herself to him. Which wasn’t going to happen.
“Go on,” Lukos propped his boot against Arktos’s ass and shoved. It was at that precise moment that all of his first mate’s bulk bashed against a man walking toward the temple with myrtle and roses in his hands. Arktos’s huge arms wheeled about as he struggled to catch his balance but he was too tall and the other man placed just exactly in the wrong way. Lukos laughed as Arktos crashed to the ground.
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“You do realize how expensive priestesses are?” Lukos checked for the second time as he and Arktos walked up from the docks and through the city. The seven foot tall giant at his side nodded stubbornly. Lukos sighed and crossed his arms. “I still think this is stupid. Whores are easier.”
“And less pretty,” Arktos reminded him. The big man surveyed Aphrodite’s temple as they neared it. “Each virgin woman is chosen at peak blossom. She is lovely and pure…” he smiled softly to himself. Lukos stared up at him.
“You understand they’re basically whores at this point, right? Unless you get an initiate?”
“It’s worship,” Arktos hissed, slapping the back of one huge hand against the meaty palm of the other. “Something you should do more of, Captain.”
“Eh,” Lukos crossed his arms and smirked to himself. “I’ll just pay for regular old whores, thanks. You go ‘worship’. The goddess hasn’t done you any favors.” He laughed when Arktos glared at him but the bigger man didn’t actually dispute this observation.
“Keep that up, Captain and one day you’ll get cursed.”
“Nah,” Lukos walked with his hands clasped behind his head, basking in the sunlight. “Haven’t you noticed? I’m the luckiest man in Greece.”
Arktos privately thought that this was and was not true. His captain seemed not to take into account recent events that had transpired to make it so that they could no longer go to Athenia. In fact, he’d noted that Lukos refused to reference anything about it at all - like it never happened. The only thing he really did do differently was to be overly antagonistic to the noble class in general, and women most of all. It was becoming an issue and, as first mate, perhaps it was Arktos’s business to say so...but he didn’t want to. Lukos could be volatile and while he was in a good mood, the big man wanted to keep it that way by avoiding all talk of certain deceased people.
“Uh huh…” was all Arktos said in response. The two men made their way along the white stone path that led up to the temple. It was there that Lukos sat at the feet of a statue, watching the comings and goings of the populace, while Arktos stood beside him, also watching people. For all that the big man had been whining and complaining about wanting to come here so he could fuck a priestess, the man wasn’t doing much besides turning red and looking about him as though one of the priestesses might present herself to him. Which wasn’t going to happen.
“Go on,” Lukos propped his boot against Arktos’s ass and shoved. It was at that precise moment that all of his first mate’s bulk bashed against a man walking toward the temple with myrtle and roses in his hands. Arktos’s huge arms wheeled about as he struggled to catch his balance but he was too tall and the other man placed just exactly in the wrong way. Lukos laughed as Arktos crashed to the ground.
“You do realize how expensive priestesses are?” Lukos checked for the second time as he and Arktos walked up from the docks and through the city. The seven foot tall giant at his side nodded stubbornly. Lukos sighed and crossed his arms. “I still think this is stupid. Whores are easier.”
“And less pretty,” Arktos reminded him. The big man surveyed Aphrodite’s temple as they neared it. “Each virgin woman is chosen at peak blossom. She is lovely and pure…” he smiled softly to himself. Lukos stared up at him.
“You understand they’re basically whores at this point, right? Unless you get an initiate?”
“It’s worship,” Arktos hissed, slapping the back of one huge hand against the meaty palm of the other. “Something you should do more of, Captain.”
“Eh,” Lukos crossed his arms and smirked to himself. “I’ll just pay for regular old whores, thanks. You go ‘worship’. The goddess hasn’t done you any favors.” He laughed when Arktos glared at him but the bigger man didn’t actually dispute this observation.
“Keep that up, Captain and one day you’ll get cursed.”
“Nah,” Lukos walked with his hands clasped behind his head, basking in the sunlight. “Haven’t you noticed? I’m the luckiest man in Greece.”
Arktos privately thought that this was and was not true. His captain seemed not to take into account recent events that had transpired to make it so that they could no longer go to Athenia. In fact, he’d noted that Lukos refused to reference anything about it at all - like it never happened. The only thing he really did do differently was to be overly antagonistic to the noble class in general, and women most of all. It was becoming an issue and, as first mate, perhaps it was Arktos’s business to say so...but he didn’t want to. Lukos could be volatile and while he was in a good mood, the big man wanted to keep it that way by avoiding all talk of certain deceased people.
“Uh huh…” was all Arktos said in response. The two men made their way along the white stone path that led up to the temple. It was there that Lukos sat at the feet of a statue, watching the comings and goings of the populace, while Arktos stood beside him, also watching people. For all that the big man had been whining and complaining about wanting to come here so he could fuck a priestess, the man wasn’t doing much besides turning red and looking about him as though one of the priestesses might present herself to him. Which wasn’t going to happen.
“Go on,” Lukos propped his boot against Arktos’s ass and shoved. It was at that precise moment that all of his first mate’s bulk bashed against a man walking toward the temple with myrtle and roses in his hands. Arktos’s huge arms wheeled about as he struggled to catch his balance but he was too tall and the other man placed just exactly in the wrong way. Lukos laughed as Arktos crashed to the ground.
Achilleas was usually fairly alert to his surroundings, his instincts as a soldier never entirely switching off. But, having decided on his course, the Lord was perhaps more intent on seeing through the making of his offering to the Goddess, so he did not pay much heed to the pair of ruffians loitering by the entrance to the Temple proper. A fact he would come to regret in the next moment, as he was jostled from behind, with some force. Even Achilleas, broad and tall as he was, staggered under the impact.
His breath escaped him in an aggravated huff, and he stumbled forward, losing most of the floral tribute he carried as he went. It was only some clever footwork and quick reflexes that saved him from crashing face first to land amongst the flowers he had thought to lay at Aphrodite’s feet. The Lord was less than amused.
His hand was quick to go to the hilt of the sword at his waist, Achilleas standing upright and whirling to look upon who had cannoned into him, his eyes coming to alight first upon the hulk of a man sprawled on the ground by his feet, and secondly on his fellow, who was creased with amusement. Dark brows drew together in a haughty frown, and he drew himself up to his full height as he tried to get a read on what had happened.
Achilleas’ gaze flickered over the laughing one dismissively, and the hand that curled around the pommel of the sword relaxed only a fraction. “ There are those that would cut you down for less” he said curtly, stepping away from the large man whilst making no effort to help him up as he glanced at the dark haired man who seemed to find his fellows situation so humourous. “Your friend should be more careful”
He glanced at the scattered offering to the Goddess and considered asking the men to replace them, but really he could see little point. They did not strike him as men who had coin to spare, and the Lord Mikaelidas had no desire to prolong what was already an unwanted encounter. He would be gracious.
Achilleas debated if he could now be bothered to go and repurchase an offering, or if he should just drop a few coins in place of flowers, and decided on the latter, sweeping a few of the blooms aside with his foot before he turned to continue on his way. “Watch where you are going next time” he called over his shoulder, not even bothering to turn his head.
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Achilleas was usually fairly alert to his surroundings, his instincts as a soldier never entirely switching off. But, having decided on his course, the Lord was perhaps more intent on seeing through the making of his offering to the Goddess, so he did not pay much heed to the pair of ruffians loitering by the entrance to the Temple proper. A fact he would come to regret in the next moment, as he was jostled from behind, with some force. Even Achilleas, broad and tall as he was, staggered under the impact.
His breath escaped him in an aggravated huff, and he stumbled forward, losing most of the floral tribute he carried as he went. It was only some clever footwork and quick reflexes that saved him from crashing face first to land amongst the flowers he had thought to lay at Aphrodite’s feet. The Lord was less than amused.
His hand was quick to go to the hilt of the sword at his waist, Achilleas standing upright and whirling to look upon who had cannoned into him, his eyes coming to alight first upon the hulk of a man sprawled on the ground by his feet, and secondly on his fellow, who was creased with amusement. Dark brows drew together in a haughty frown, and he drew himself up to his full height as he tried to get a read on what had happened.
Achilleas’ gaze flickered over the laughing one dismissively, and the hand that curled around the pommel of the sword relaxed only a fraction. “ There are those that would cut you down for less” he said curtly, stepping away from the large man whilst making no effort to help him up as he glanced at the dark haired man who seemed to find his fellows situation so humourous. “Your friend should be more careful”
He glanced at the scattered offering to the Goddess and considered asking the men to replace them, but really he could see little point. They did not strike him as men who had coin to spare, and the Lord Mikaelidas had no desire to prolong what was already an unwanted encounter. He would be gracious.
Achilleas debated if he could now be bothered to go and repurchase an offering, or if he should just drop a few coins in place of flowers, and decided on the latter, sweeping a few of the blooms aside with his foot before he turned to continue on his way. “Watch where you are going next time” he called over his shoulder, not even bothering to turn his head.
Achilleas was usually fairly alert to his surroundings, his instincts as a soldier never entirely switching off. But, having decided on his course, the Lord was perhaps more intent on seeing through the making of his offering to the Goddess, so he did not pay much heed to the pair of ruffians loitering by the entrance to the Temple proper. A fact he would come to regret in the next moment, as he was jostled from behind, with some force. Even Achilleas, broad and tall as he was, staggered under the impact.
His breath escaped him in an aggravated huff, and he stumbled forward, losing most of the floral tribute he carried as he went. It was only some clever footwork and quick reflexes that saved him from crashing face first to land amongst the flowers he had thought to lay at Aphrodite’s feet. The Lord was less than amused.
His hand was quick to go to the hilt of the sword at his waist, Achilleas standing upright and whirling to look upon who had cannoned into him, his eyes coming to alight first upon the hulk of a man sprawled on the ground by his feet, and secondly on his fellow, who was creased with amusement. Dark brows drew together in a haughty frown, and he drew himself up to his full height as he tried to get a read on what had happened.
Achilleas’ gaze flickered over the laughing one dismissively, and the hand that curled around the pommel of the sword relaxed only a fraction. “ There are those that would cut you down for less” he said curtly, stepping away from the large man whilst making no effort to help him up as he glanced at the dark haired man who seemed to find his fellows situation so humourous. “Your friend should be more careful”
He glanced at the scattered offering to the Goddess and considered asking the men to replace them, but really he could see little point. They did not strike him as men who had coin to spare, and the Lord Mikaelidas had no desire to prolong what was already an unwanted encounter. He would be gracious.
Achilleas debated if he could now be bothered to go and repurchase an offering, or if he should just drop a few coins in place of flowers, and decided on the latter, sweeping a few of the blooms aside with his foot before he turned to continue on his way. “Watch where you are going next time” he called over his shoulder, not even bothering to turn his head.
Arktos glowered up at Achilleas, not at all afraid of him. After all, Arktos was twice the man’s size and easily head and shoulders taller. He had no idea that this upstart lord was an undefeated warrior in Taengea. However, even though he did not fear Achilleas, he did have a healthy notion of self preservation as far as being jailed because while he could effortlessly clobber this flowery lunatic into the ground, he knew that he wouldn’t be a match for all the soldiers in Vasiliadon, which is likely what would be called if he got into a fight with a nobleman.
Lukos, however, had no such qualms. He continued laughing even as Achilleas advised him that he ought to rein in his bear. He rolled his eyes at the lord and did the gentlemanly thing that Achilleas had refused to do, which was help Arktos up. To Achilleas, he said, "Yeah, I'll get right on that and nanny goat him like any grown man should." Pushing away from the statue, he let Achilleas breeze past him before he reached down and grasped Arktos by the hand. The big man scrambled upright and looked around at all the flowers that had been tossed about, that the lord had now carelessly left behind.
It was the final order that Achilleas gave that set Arktos’s teeth on edge.
“Oy!” he bellowed at Achilleas. “Why don’t you turn around, you gnat’s cunt and say that to my face!” The big man’s face was red with indignation.
Lukos quirked his dark brows at the insult but smirked and folded his arms across his chest. This was going to be a sight and he could not wait to see Arktos put this pantywaste lord in his place. Sweeping past people. It was just rude. He glanced down at the scattered flowers and wondered if they were salvageable enough to sell….Maybe. But the effort just so wasn’t worth it.
Meanwhile, Arktos bumped into him as he backed up a bit, readying his fists for Achilleas.
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Arktos glowered up at Achilleas, not at all afraid of him. After all, Arktos was twice the man’s size and easily head and shoulders taller. He had no idea that this upstart lord was an undefeated warrior in Taengea. However, even though he did not fear Achilleas, he did have a healthy notion of self preservation as far as being jailed because while he could effortlessly clobber this flowery lunatic into the ground, he knew that he wouldn’t be a match for all the soldiers in Vasiliadon, which is likely what would be called if he got into a fight with a nobleman.
Lukos, however, had no such qualms. He continued laughing even as Achilleas advised him that he ought to rein in his bear. He rolled his eyes at the lord and did the gentlemanly thing that Achilleas had refused to do, which was help Arktos up. To Achilleas, he said, "Yeah, I'll get right on that and nanny goat him like any grown man should." Pushing away from the statue, he let Achilleas breeze past him before he reached down and grasped Arktos by the hand. The big man scrambled upright and looked around at all the flowers that had been tossed about, that the lord had now carelessly left behind.
It was the final order that Achilleas gave that set Arktos’s teeth on edge.
“Oy!” he bellowed at Achilleas. “Why don’t you turn around, you gnat’s cunt and say that to my face!” The big man’s face was red with indignation.
Lukos quirked his dark brows at the insult but smirked and folded his arms across his chest. This was going to be a sight and he could not wait to see Arktos put this pantywaste lord in his place. Sweeping past people. It was just rude. He glanced down at the scattered flowers and wondered if they were salvageable enough to sell….Maybe. But the effort just so wasn’t worth it.
Meanwhile, Arktos bumped into him as he backed up a bit, readying his fists for Achilleas.
Arktos glowered up at Achilleas, not at all afraid of him. After all, Arktos was twice the man’s size and easily head and shoulders taller. He had no idea that this upstart lord was an undefeated warrior in Taengea. However, even though he did not fear Achilleas, he did have a healthy notion of self preservation as far as being jailed because while he could effortlessly clobber this flowery lunatic into the ground, he knew that he wouldn’t be a match for all the soldiers in Vasiliadon, which is likely what would be called if he got into a fight with a nobleman.
Lukos, however, had no such qualms. He continued laughing even as Achilleas advised him that he ought to rein in his bear. He rolled his eyes at the lord and did the gentlemanly thing that Achilleas had refused to do, which was help Arktos up. To Achilleas, he said, "Yeah, I'll get right on that and nanny goat him like any grown man should." Pushing away from the statue, he let Achilleas breeze past him before he reached down and grasped Arktos by the hand. The big man scrambled upright and looked around at all the flowers that had been tossed about, that the lord had now carelessly left behind.
It was the final order that Achilleas gave that set Arktos’s teeth on edge.
“Oy!” he bellowed at Achilleas. “Why don’t you turn around, you gnat’s cunt and say that to my face!” The big man’s face was red with indignation.
Lukos quirked his dark brows at the insult but smirked and folded his arms across his chest. This was going to be a sight and he could not wait to see Arktos put this pantywaste lord in his place. Sweeping past people. It was just rude. He glanced down at the scattered flowers and wondered if they were salvageable enough to sell….Maybe. But the effort just so wasn’t worth it.
Meanwhile, Arktos bumped into him as he backed up a bit, readying his fists for Achilleas.
Achilleas merely quirked a brow at the continued laughter from the smaller man. He had not the time to waste dealing with cocky little nobodies. Though that was a lie, he realised a little bitterly, as he actually had plenty of time. However, that did not mean he wished to spend it conversing with idiots.
If he were surprised by the man’s tone, he weathered it well, simply pressing his lips together to suppress the exasperated sigh that wanted to make itself known. With the tiniest shake of his head he turned, thinking himself kind to have let the matter slide.
The temple was set to be his refuge from the great unwashed, but Achilleas had gotten no further than a half a dozen paces away from the men when there was a call that had him come to a sudden halt.
What had that man just said to him?!
Now Achilleas was no stranger to crass language. On the field of battle men shed the civility they wore in everyday life and became beasts intent on slaughtering one another, and some of them did not even possess good graces to begin with. He fought alongside soldiers and generals alike and did not bat an eyelid at the curses that fell from his men’s lips. What the Lord was not accustomed to however was to be so addressed himself, in the middle of Vasiliadon no less. He was too well known, his House, his rank, and so there was a genuine shock at even being called out at, quite aside from the words the man chose to employ.
He stood still for a moment as if to let the reality of it sink in, before turning very slowly back to face his previous assailant. To his credit, Achilleas did not allow his expression to falter as he took in the sheer scale of the man, his features remaining still and set. There was no mistaking the displeasure that flashed in his eyes though, and his words, when they came were crisp and edged with metal.
"Are you a fool as well as a clumsy oaf?” He said coldly, gaze locked upon the brutish man who seemed readying fists. As if Achilleas would be caught brawling like some street rat in the grounds of the temple of all places. His patience though, was thinning, and the novelty of the insult did not discount the fact that it had been thrown in the first place, at him, a Lord of Mikaelidas. Such disrespect could not go unanswered.
The warrior made no move toward the men, though his hand had returned to the sword at his hip should he have cause to defend himself. And as he debated his next move, his attention drifted toward the smaller of the two men, the smart mouthed one who unfortunately did not seem to be smart enough to prevent his friend making a misery for them both.
“You clearly have no respect for where you stand, cur, and non for your betters. Perhaps I can help you with that?”
There was a jerk of his head toward one of the guards who stood sentry by the temple door, to protect the Priestesses from those who did not respect the sanctity of their reverence. Already, Arktos’ raised voice had drawn their attention toward the stand off, and the two men now approached, glancing warily at Arktos and Lukos as they came to a halt, spears at the ready.
“My Lord Mikaelidas?”
Achilleas did not shift his gaze from the two men who had so disrupted his intended act of devotion to the Goddess, but he smiled a little as he spoke.
“Our friends here could do with some time to think on their faith” he said, “They do not seem to have gotten the hang of it. The rest of the day in the stocks ought to set that right”
It was as much as was needed, the General known and respected by these guards, even if not by those that had wronged him. Turning their attention to Lukos and Arktos, the guards stepped forward to apprehend them, the one moving toward Arktos looking a mite daunted by the giant of a man.
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Achilleas merely quirked a brow at the continued laughter from the smaller man. He had not the time to waste dealing with cocky little nobodies. Though that was a lie, he realised a little bitterly, as he actually had plenty of time. However, that did not mean he wished to spend it conversing with idiots.
If he were surprised by the man’s tone, he weathered it well, simply pressing his lips together to suppress the exasperated sigh that wanted to make itself known. With the tiniest shake of his head he turned, thinking himself kind to have let the matter slide.
The temple was set to be his refuge from the great unwashed, but Achilleas had gotten no further than a half a dozen paces away from the men when there was a call that had him come to a sudden halt.
What had that man just said to him?!
Now Achilleas was no stranger to crass language. On the field of battle men shed the civility they wore in everyday life and became beasts intent on slaughtering one another, and some of them did not even possess good graces to begin with. He fought alongside soldiers and generals alike and did not bat an eyelid at the curses that fell from his men’s lips. What the Lord was not accustomed to however was to be so addressed himself, in the middle of Vasiliadon no less. He was too well known, his House, his rank, and so there was a genuine shock at even being called out at, quite aside from the words the man chose to employ.
He stood still for a moment as if to let the reality of it sink in, before turning very slowly back to face his previous assailant. To his credit, Achilleas did not allow his expression to falter as he took in the sheer scale of the man, his features remaining still and set. There was no mistaking the displeasure that flashed in his eyes though, and his words, when they came were crisp and edged with metal.
"Are you a fool as well as a clumsy oaf?” He said coldly, gaze locked upon the brutish man who seemed readying fists. As if Achilleas would be caught brawling like some street rat in the grounds of the temple of all places. His patience though, was thinning, and the novelty of the insult did not discount the fact that it had been thrown in the first place, at him, a Lord of Mikaelidas. Such disrespect could not go unanswered.
The warrior made no move toward the men, though his hand had returned to the sword at his hip should he have cause to defend himself. And as he debated his next move, his attention drifted toward the smaller of the two men, the smart mouthed one who unfortunately did not seem to be smart enough to prevent his friend making a misery for them both.
“You clearly have no respect for where you stand, cur, and non for your betters. Perhaps I can help you with that?”
There was a jerk of his head toward one of the guards who stood sentry by the temple door, to protect the Priestesses from those who did not respect the sanctity of their reverence. Already, Arktos’ raised voice had drawn their attention toward the stand off, and the two men now approached, glancing warily at Arktos and Lukos as they came to a halt, spears at the ready.
“My Lord Mikaelidas?”
Achilleas did not shift his gaze from the two men who had so disrupted his intended act of devotion to the Goddess, but he smiled a little as he spoke.
“Our friends here could do with some time to think on their faith” he said, “They do not seem to have gotten the hang of it. The rest of the day in the stocks ought to set that right”
It was as much as was needed, the General known and respected by these guards, even if not by those that had wronged him. Turning their attention to Lukos and Arktos, the guards stepped forward to apprehend them, the one moving toward Arktos looking a mite daunted by the giant of a man.
Achilleas merely quirked a brow at the continued laughter from the smaller man. He had not the time to waste dealing with cocky little nobodies. Though that was a lie, he realised a little bitterly, as he actually had plenty of time. However, that did not mean he wished to spend it conversing with idiots.
If he were surprised by the man’s tone, he weathered it well, simply pressing his lips together to suppress the exasperated sigh that wanted to make itself known. With the tiniest shake of his head he turned, thinking himself kind to have let the matter slide.
The temple was set to be his refuge from the great unwashed, but Achilleas had gotten no further than a half a dozen paces away from the men when there was a call that had him come to a sudden halt.
What had that man just said to him?!
Now Achilleas was no stranger to crass language. On the field of battle men shed the civility they wore in everyday life and became beasts intent on slaughtering one another, and some of them did not even possess good graces to begin with. He fought alongside soldiers and generals alike and did not bat an eyelid at the curses that fell from his men’s lips. What the Lord was not accustomed to however was to be so addressed himself, in the middle of Vasiliadon no less. He was too well known, his House, his rank, and so there was a genuine shock at even being called out at, quite aside from the words the man chose to employ.
He stood still for a moment as if to let the reality of it sink in, before turning very slowly back to face his previous assailant. To his credit, Achilleas did not allow his expression to falter as he took in the sheer scale of the man, his features remaining still and set. There was no mistaking the displeasure that flashed in his eyes though, and his words, when they came were crisp and edged with metal.
"Are you a fool as well as a clumsy oaf?” He said coldly, gaze locked upon the brutish man who seemed readying fists. As if Achilleas would be caught brawling like some street rat in the grounds of the temple of all places. His patience though, was thinning, and the novelty of the insult did not discount the fact that it had been thrown in the first place, at him, a Lord of Mikaelidas. Such disrespect could not go unanswered.
The warrior made no move toward the men, though his hand had returned to the sword at his hip should he have cause to defend himself. And as he debated his next move, his attention drifted toward the smaller of the two men, the smart mouthed one who unfortunately did not seem to be smart enough to prevent his friend making a misery for them both.
“You clearly have no respect for where you stand, cur, and non for your betters. Perhaps I can help you with that?”
There was a jerk of his head toward one of the guards who stood sentry by the temple door, to protect the Priestesses from those who did not respect the sanctity of their reverence. Already, Arktos’ raised voice had drawn their attention toward the stand off, and the two men now approached, glancing warily at Arktos and Lukos as they came to a halt, spears at the ready.
“My Lord Mikaelidas?”
Achilleas did not shift his gaze from the two men who had so disrupted his intended act of devotion to the Goddess, but he smiled a little as he spoke.
“Our friends here could do with some time to think on their faith” he said, “They do not seem to have gotten the hang of it. The rest of the day in the stocks ought to set that right”
It was as much as was needed, the General known and respected by these guards, even if not by those that had wronged him. Turning their attention to Lukos and Arktos, the guards stepped forward to apprehend them, the one moving toward Arktos looking a mite daunted by the giant of a man.
Lukos watched with interest to see what the lord would do. He could always count on Arktos to do the most idiot of things, but really, he couldn’t bear to part company with the man. If nothing else, Arktos added a bit of hilarity to his life - something Lukos loved dearly. Obviously he was never, ever going to admit to Arktos that the man was a friend, much less very important to him. To tell him that never occurred to him. However, he’d always back him up in a fight, whether or not he thought his first mate an idiot.
Achilleas’s stone cold expression only made Lukos grin, but the grin dropped to an offended frown as the guards came forward. And then, with the name, he raised his eyebrows, realizing who his bear had picked a fight with. And then, after that, irritated beyond measure that someone of Achilleas’s calliber didn’t fight them. He’d have liked to pit Arktos against a warrior like the one who stood before him.
“I want to go to the temple!” Arktos bellowed at both Achilleas and the guard who was edging up to him.
Lukos’s guard was giving him a serious just come easy, like, obviously not wanting to tussel. All it took was for Lukos’s gaze to fall on the spear that could easily go straight into his gut. Arktos, meanwhile, was still yelling and drawing all kinds of stares.
“I was gonna pay for a priestess!” he roared and pointed at Achilleas. “And this nancy is a coward!”
“Arktos!” Lukos snapped, punching the big man on the shoulder. “One, Two, Three!”
On the last number, Lukos darted left, Arktos shoved at his guard and darted right. The two broke into flat out runs, though Arktos wasn’t nearly as swift as Lukos, who appeared to run as fleetly as Hermes. He took the stairs, three at a time, bounding down them with the ease of a cat. The guard chasing him did not let up, as he was under orders from Lord Achilleas. If he returned without the bastard in hand, would he go to the stocks instead? Maybe.
Lukos fled the stairs and led the man on a merry chase through the placed gardens of Aphrodite. He leaped over a couple in mid coitous. The guard did the same, not even bothering to look back. Where else would people have sex, if not in worship of the goddess?
Darting around a thick bush, Lukos rolled underneath it, waiting for the guard to speed by, still chasing him. Panting, he rolled back out, taking off back the way he’d come. He leapt back over the still humping couple and took to the stairs, right back up to the temple.
Once he topped them, Arktos was nowhere to be seen. What he didn’t know was that his first mate had been very easily captured, though it had taken more guards than was usually necessary to bring the huge man down. Then, of course, the rest of the guards had to wrestle Arktos toward the town square. This meant that the temple was without its usual protection.
Lukos put his hand on his chest, his dark eyes sweeping around, attempting to locate Achilleas. He moved around until he found the lord. “You dolt,” he hissed at Achilleas’s back, once he’d found him. Then he shoved his boot right into the small of Achilleas’s back, just above the man’s ass, attempting to make the man fall. Though Achilleas had been thinking of Lukos as small, they were only an inch away from being the same height and Lukos rowed his ship nearly every day. His muscles were hard and defined, as well as having an advantage of having a hard workout every single day. He was not winded from his run anymore and he wanted a fight.
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Lukos watched with interest to see what the lord would do. He could always count on Arktos to do the most idiot of things, but really, he couldn’t bear to part company with the man. If nothing else, Arktos added a bit of hilarity to his life - something Lukos loved dearly. Obviously he was never, ever going to admit to Arktos that the man was a friend, much less very important to him. To tell him that never occurred to him. However, he’d always back him up in a fight, whether or not he thought his first mate an idiot.
Achilleas’s stone cold expression only made Lukos grin, but the grin dropped to an offended frown as the guards came forward. And then, with the name, he raised his eyebrows, realizing who his bear had picked a fight with. And then, after that, irritated beyond measure that someone of Achilleas’s calliber didn’t fight them. He’d have liked to pit Arktos against a warrior like the one who stood before him.
“I want to go to the temple!” Arktos bellowed at both Achilleas and the guard who was edging up to him.
Lukos’s guard was giving him a serious just come easy, like, obviously not wanting to tussel. All it took was for Lukos’s gaze to fall on the spear that could easily go straight into his gut. Arktos, meanwhile, was still yelling and drawing all kinds of stares.
“I was gonna pay for a priestess!” he roared and pointed at Achilleas. “And this nancy is a coward!”
“Arktos!” Lukos snapped, punching the big man on the shoulder. “One, Two, Three!”
On the last number, Lukos darted left, Arktos shoved at his guard and darted right. The two broke into flat out runs, though Arktos wasn’t nearly as swift as Lukos, who appeared to run as fleetly as Hermes. He took the stairs, three at a time, bounding down them with the ease of a cat. The guard chasing him did not let up, as he was under orders from Lord Achilleas. If he returned without the bastard in hand, would he go to the stocks instead? Maybe.
Lukos fled the stairs and led the man on a merry chase through the placed gardens of Aphrodite. He leaped over a couple in mid coitous. The guard did the same, not even bothering to look back. Where else would people have sex, if not in worship of the goddess?
Darting around a thick bush, Lukos rolled underneath it, waiting for the guard to speed by, still chasing him. Panting, he rolled back out, taking off back the way he’d come. He leapt back over the still humping couple and took to the stairs, right back up to the temple.
Once he topped them, Arktos was nowhere to be seen. What he didn’t know was that his first mate had been very easily captured, though it had taken more guards than was usually necessary to bring the huge man down. Then, of course, the rest of the guards had to wrestle Arktos toward the town square. This meant that the temple was without its usual protection.
Lukos put his hand on his chest, his dark eyes sweeping around, attempting to locate Achilleas. He moved around until he found the lord. “You dolt,” he hissed at Achilleas’s back, once he’d found him. Then he shoved his boot right into the small of Achilleas’s back, just above the man’s ass, attempting to make the man fall. Though Achilleas had been thinking of Lukos as small, they were only an inch away from being the same height and Lukos rowed his ship nearly every day. His muscles were hard and defined, as well as having an advantage of having a hard workout every single day. He was not winded from his run anymore and he wanted a fight.
Lukos watched with interest to see what the lord would do. He could always count on Arktos to do the most idiot of things, but really, he couldn’t bear to part company with the man. If nothing else, Arktos added a bit of hilarity to his life - something Lukos loved dearly. Obviously he was never, ever going to admit to Arktos that the man was a friend, much less very important to him. To tell him that never occurred to him. However, he’d always back him up in a fight, whether or not he thought his first mate an idiot.
Achilleas’s stone cold expression only made Lukos grin, but the grin dropped to an offended frown as the guards came forward. And then, with the name, he raised his eyebrows, realizing who his bear had picked a fight with. And then, after that, irritated beyond measure that someone of Achilleas’s calliber didn’t fight them. He’d have liked to pit Arktos against a warrior like the one who stood before him.
“I want to go to the temple!” Arktos bellowed at both Achilleas and the guard who was edging up to him.
Lukos’s guard was giving him a serious just come easy, like, obviously not wanting to tussel. All it took was for Lukos’s gaze to fall on the spear that could easily go straight into his gut. Arktos, meanwhile, was still yelling and drawing all kinds of stares.
“I was gonna pay for a priestess!” he roared and pointed at Achilleas. “And this nancy is a coward!”
“Arktos!” Lukos snapped, punching the big man on the shoulder. “One, Two, Three!”
On the last number, Lukos darted left, Arktos shoved at his guard and darted right. The two broke into flat out runs, though Arktos wasn’t nearly as swift as Lukos, who appeared to run as fleetly as Hermes. He took the stairs, three at a time, bounding down them with the ease of a cat. The guard chasing him did not let up, as he was under orders from Lord Achilleas. If he returned without the bastard in hand, would he go to the stocks instead? Maybe.
Lukos fled the stairs and led the man on a merry chase through the placed gardens of Aphrodite. He leaped over a couple in mid coitous. The guard did the same, not even bothering to look back. Where else would people have sex, if not in worship of the goddess?
Darting around a thick bush, Lukos rolled underneath it, waiting for the guard to speed by, still chasing him. Panting, he rolled back out, taking off back the way he’d come. He leapt back over the still humping couple and took to the stairs, right back up to the temple.
Once he topped them, Arktos was nowhere to be seen. What he didn’t know was that his first mate had been very easily captured, though it had taken more guards than was usually necessary to bring the huge man down. Then, of course, the rest of the guards had to wrestle Arktos toward the town square. This meant that the temple was without its usual protection.
Lukos put his hand on his chest, his dark eyes sweeping around, attempting to locate Achilleas. He moved around until he found the lord. “You dolt,” he hissed at Achilleas’s back, once he’d found him. Then he shoved his boot right into the small of Achilleas’s back, just above the man’s ass, attempting to make the man fall. Though Achilleas had been thinking of Lukos as small, they were only an inch away from being the same height and Lukos rowed his ship nearly every day. His muscles were hard and defined, as well as having an advantage of having a hard workout every single day. He was not winded from his run anymore and he wanted a fight.
The Lord had looked on dispassionately as the brute only proved his ill-breeding by causing further commotion. He cast his eyes to the heavens when the other made a run for it, but it was a matter he placed in the hands of the guards, and he eventually turned away from the struggling behemoth of a man, lips pressed together in a firm line. What was the city coming to that even a temple could be so disturbed?
For the briefest of moments, Achilleas considered his own conduct, but he had been more than patient, he gauged, and it had been the fools’ own actions that had talked them into trouble. If nothing else, they should learn not to run their mouths off at their betters.
Still, he was a little disgruntled as he eventually turned his back upon the guards struggling with the big man.He had not liked the expression the other had worn, and Achilleas thought he might ask the guards if he were known to them. Vasiliadon did not need such men idle on its streets. If they were regular troublemakers then perhaps a spell serving the Taengean Lions would quell some of their unrest.
Whatever thoughts the Lord had entertained with regards to making some offering to the Goddess had rather fallen by the wayside, and instead he wandered along one of the paths that led alongside the temple itself. Sometimes he wished that his station did not prevent him giving such ingrates the hiding they were begging for, but it would hardly do for him to disturb the peace of the temple by doing so. Nevertheless, Achilleas set his jaw, it was not easy to set aside his own aggravation in such circumstances. Only restraint honed over years saw him able to resist personally avenging such slights.
He was still pacing off that irritation when there was a hiss of a whisper behind him, and the Lord tensed, prepared to turn. He did not have chance though for even in that moment there was a hard shove to the small of his back and he was stumbling for the second time that day.
It was luck more than anything that saw him able to keep his feet, and there was nothing graceful in the lurch forwards or the frantic scrabble to stop prevent himself face planting onto the stone pathway. The indignity of that only added to the disbelieving rage he felt upon finally turning to find one of the miscreants who should have been in the stocks by now.
“Oh you must truly have a death wish” Achilleas bit out, staring at the man, flabbergasted that the idiot had come back for more. There was a fleeting anger that the guard tasked with apprehending him was nowhere to be seen, but a small part of the Mikaelidas lord relished the opportunity to give this upstart the sound beating he deserved, and seemed to court so eagerly.
He had been more than patient already, and would be no longer. With a practiced ease the Lord drew the sword that hung at his hip, held it in front of him in a low guard as he fixed a steady look upon the dark-haired man. “Come then, worm, collect the hiding you are sorely owed” He would enjoy imparting it, he was certain.
Without hesitation, Achilleas advanced on the man, intent on exacting due payment for the insult he had borne.
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The Lord had looked on dispassionately as the brute only proved his ill-breeding by causing further commotion. He cast his eyes to the heavens when the other made a run for it, but it was a matter he placed in the hands of the guards, and he eventually turned away from the struggling behemoth of a man, lips pressed together in a firm line. What was the city coming to that even a temple could be so disturbed?
For the briefest of moments, Achilleas considered his own conduct, but he had been more than patient, he gauged, and it had been the fools’ own actions that had talked them into trouble. If nothing else, they should learn not to run their mouths off at their betters.
Still, he was a little disgruntled as he eventually turned his back upon the guards struggling with the big man.He had not liked the expression the other had worn, and Achilleas thought he might ask the guards if he were known to them. Vasiliadon did not need such men idle on its streets. If they were regular troublemakers then perhaps a spell serving the Taengean Lions would quell some of their unrest.
Whatever thoughts the Lord had entertained with regards to making some offering to the Goddess had rather fallen by the wayside, and instead he wandered along one of the paths that led alongside the temple itself. Sometimes he wished that his station did not prevent him giving such ingrates the hiding they were begging for, but it would hardly do for him to disturb the peace of the temple by doing so. Nevertheless, Achilleas set his jaw, it was not easy to set aside his own aggravation in such circumstances. Only restraint honed over years saw him able to resist personally avenging such slights.
He was still pacing off that irritation when there was a hiss of a whisper behind him, and the Lord tensed, prepared to turn. He did not have chance though for even in that moment there was a hard shove to the small of his back and he was stumbling for the second time that day.
It was luck more than anything that saw him able to keep his feet, and there was nothing graceful in the lurch forwards or the frantic scrabble to stop prevent himself face planting onto the stone pathway. The indignity of that only added to the disbelieving rage he felt upon finally turning to find one of the miscreants who should have been in the stocks by now.
“Oh you must truly have a death wish” Achilleas bit out, staring at the man, flabbergasted that the idiot had come back for more. There was a fleeting anger that the guard tasked with apprehending him was nowhere to be seen, but a small part of the Mikaelidas lord relished the opportunity to give this upstart the sound beating he deserved, and seemed to court so eagerly.
He had been more than patient already, and would be no longer. With a practiced ease the Lord drew the sword that hung at his hip, held it in front of him in a low guard as he fixed a steady look upon the dark-haired man. “Come then, worm, collect the hiding you are sorely owed” He would enjoy imparting it, he was certain.
Without hesitation, Achilleas advanced on the man, intent on exacting due payment for the insult he had borne.
The Lord had looked on dispassionately as the brute only proved his ill-breeding by causing further commotion. He cast his eyes to the heavens when the other made a run for it, but it was a matter he placed in the hands of the guards, and he eventually turned away from the struggling behemoth of a man, lips pressed together in a firm line. What was the city coming to that even a temple could be so disturbed?
For the briefest of moments, Achilleas considered his own conduct, but he had been more than patient, he gauged, and it had been the fools’ own actions that had talked them into trouble. If nothing else, they should learn not to run their mouths off at their betters.
Still, he was a little disgruntled as he eventually turned his back upon the guards struggling with the big man.He had not liked the expression the other had worn, and Achilleas thought he might ask the guards if he were known to them. Vasiliadon did not need such men idle on its streets. If they were regular troublemakers then perhaps a spell serving the Taengean Lions would quell some of their unrest.
Whatever thoughts the Lord had entertained with regards to making some offering to the Goddess had rather fallen by the wayside, and instead he wandered along one of the paths that led alongside the temple itself. Sometimes he wished that his station did not prevent him giving such ingrates the hiding they were begging for, but it would hardly do for him to disturb the peace of the temple by doing so. Nevertheless, Achilleas set his jaw, it was not easy to set aside his own aggravation in such circumstances. Only restraint honed over years saw him able to resist personally avenging such slights.
He was still pacing off that irritation when there was a hiss of a whisper behind him, and the Lord tensed, prepared to turn. He did not have chance though for even in that moment there was a hard shove to the small of his back and he was stumbling for the second time that day.
It was luck more than anything that saw him able to keep his feet, and there was nothing graceful in the lurch forwards or the frantic scrabble to stop prevent himself face planting onto the stone pathway. The indignity of that only added to the disbelieving rage he felt upon finally turning to find one of the miscreants who should have been in the stocks by now.
“Oh you must truly have a death wish” Achilleas bit out, staring at the man, flabbergasted that the idiot had come back for more. There was a fleeting anger that the guard tasked with apprehending him was nowhere to be seen, but a small part of the Mikaelidas lord relished the opportunity to give this upstart the sound beating he deserved, and seemed to court so eagerly.
He had been more than patient already, and would be no longer. With a practiced ease the Lord drew the sword that hung at his hip, held it in front of him in a low guard as he fixed a steady look upon the dark-haired man. “Come then, worm, collect the hiding you are sorely owed” He would enjoy imparting it, he was certain.
Without hesitation, Achilleas advanced on the man, intent on exacting due payment for the insult he had borne.
Lukos didn’t draw his sword. He merely glowered at Lord Mikaelidas and then placed his hands behind his back, taking one step back as Achilleas advanced. “Gods,” he tilted his head, looking the other up and down. “You really are an idiot, aren’t you?” He then spread his arms. “Look where we are. We are at the temple of the goddess of love, whom you obviously would like to serve. Don’t you assume that she would not be pleased if you attempt to run me through on her lands?”
Taking a sliding step to the side, out of Achilleas’s direct path, Lukos finally did withdraw his sword and whapped at Achilleas with the flat of the blade. The pirate was no soldier and had no training as one. As such, that meant that he did not observe proper lines of combat and didn’t ever intend to do so. If Achilleas was going to come at him with a sword, he wasn’t going to be an idiot and just stand there. What did he care what Achilleas thought of him? The aim was to live another day, was it not?
“What are you intending to do, princess? Murder me? In broad daylight?” Lukos grinned. “Did I hurt your little feelings? Can’t handle a man tripping and scattering your adorable little flowers everywhere?” He was never still. Of course, not being Taengean, he hadn’t heard every story about Achilleas, but he’d heard enough to know it was better for himself not to let the lord get a hold of him. However, he didn’t mind leading the man on a little chase through the garden.
He had a sick, psychotic need to poke this ‘bear’.
Wherever they went, he made sure that there was at least a little pond, or bush, or statue between him and Achilleas. Something that would make it just that more difficult for the lord to get to him. All the while, he kept up a jackal’s grin, goading. “You’re such a great beauty, my lord. Not so beautiful to be blessed by the goddess though? Having troubles in love?”
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Lukos didn’t draw his sword. He merely glowered at Lord Mikaelidas and then placed his hands behind his back, taking one step back as Achilleas advanced. “Gods,” he tilted his head, looking the other up and down. “You really are an idiot, aren’t you?” He then spread his arms. “Look where we are. We are at the temple of the goddess of love, whom you obviously would like to serve. Don’t you assume that she would not be pleased if you attempt to run me through on her lands?”
Taking a sliding step to the side, out of Achilleas’s direct path, Lukos finally did withdraw his sword and whapped at Achilleas with the flat of the blade. The pirate was no soldier and had no training as one. As such, that meant that he did not observe proper lines of combat and didn’t ever intend to do so. If Achilleas was going to come at him with a sword, he wasn’t going to be an idiot and just stand there. What did he care what Achilleas thought of him? The aim was to live another day, was it not?
“What are you intending to do, princess? Murder me? In broad daylight?” Lukos grinned. “Did I hurt your little feelings? Can’t handle a man tripping and scattering your adorable little flowers everywhere?” He was never still. Of course, not being Taengean, he hadn’t heard every story about Achilleas, but he’d heard enough to know it was better for himself not to let the lord get a hold of him. However, he didn’t mind leading the man on a little chase through the garden.
He had a sick, psychotic need to poke this ‘bear’.
Wherever they went, he made sure that there was at least a little pond, or bush, or statue between him and Achilleas. Something that would make it just that more difficult for the lord to get to him. All the while, he kept up a jackal’s grin, goading. “You’re such a great beauty, my lord. Not so beautiful to be blessed by the goddess though? Having troubles in love?”
Lukos didn’t draw his sword. He merely glowered at Lord Mikaelidas and then placed his hands behind his back, taking one step back as Achilleas advanced. “Gods,” he tilted his head, looking the other up and down. “You really are an idiot, aren’t you?” He then spread his arms. “Look where we are. We are at the temple of the goddess of love, whom you obviously would like to serve. Don’t you assume that she would not be pleased if you attempt to run me through on her lands?”
Taking a sliding step to the side, out of Achilleas’s direct path, Lukos finally did withdraw his sword and whapped at Achilleas with the flat of the blade. The pirate was no soldier and had no training as one. As such, that meant that he did not observe proper lines of combat and didn’t ever intend to do so. If Achilleas was going to come at him with a sword, he wasn’t going to be an idiot and just stand there. What did he care what Achilleas thought of him? The aim was to live another day, was it not?
“What are you intending to do, princess? Murder me? In broad daylight?” Lukos grinned. “Did I hurt your little feelings? Can’t handle a man tripping and scattering your adorable little flowers everywhere?” He was never still. Of course, not being Taengean, he hadn’t heard every story about Achilleas, but he’d heard enough to know it was better for himself not to let the lord get a hold of him. However, he didn’t mind leading the man on a little chase through the garden.
He had a sick, psychotic need to poke this ‘bear’.
Wherever they went, he made sure that there was at least a little pond, or bush, or statue between him and Achilleas. Something that would make it just that more difficult for the lord to get to him. All the while, he kept up a jackal’s grin, goading. “You’re such a great beauty, my lord. Not so beautiful to be blessed by the goddess though? Having troubles in love?”
He did not expect any kind of discipline from the man- he had already proven himself without honour, so Achilleas was hardly surprised when the man danced out of the way like a coward. His taunting, whilst irritating, was merely added to the Lord’s inventory of wrongs that the man would be held to account for.
“What makes you think the Goddess would not be grateful for a blood sacrifice?” he retorted, circling to keep the man in his sights, for he had borne witness to the fact his quarry was fleet of foot already. If Lukos had expected the warrior to be stiff and rigid in his attack, he would be sorely disappointed. For whilst there was room for drills and discipline, on the field of battle there were no rules, it was man for man, and Achilleas was no stranger to that.
He parried the side swipe of the rogue’s sword with little effort, bared his teeth in what could be termed a smile, and followed. He was content to let the man run his mouth and waste his energy skipping behind every obstacle he could find. Achilleas observed the way he moved, the little patterns and habits that could be exploited later. He laughed at the man’s question, his attempt to rile. “ Do you suppose anyone would miss you if I did? I find it strangely hard to believe”
The Lord Mikaelidas was known as a level-headed man, usually quite good at keeping his temper. But he was not infallible, and as the pair continued their little game of cat and mouse in the temple gardens, Achilleas could feel his nerves wearing thin, his grip on the blade in his hand tightening with each word that escaped the mouth of the other.
“I tire of this” he said, cutting across whatever nonsense was being spewed at him, spinning deftly around the shrub that the man attempted to hide behind once more. The Lord pressed an attack then, a flurry of blows thrown at his opponent, fast and deadly like a viper striking. He did not seek to kill, no, this man would enjoy more a little time counting the hours in the desmoterion he thought, but it would feel good to spill a little of his blood and teach him a lesson in the meantime.
Achilleas remained light on his feet, unwilling to let the man put distance between them, using each blow to gain ground, to force the other to move backwards even as he stepped into the space given. He wanted to harry him, put him under pressure because in a fight, pressure could often separate the gold from the bronze and the Lord Mikaelidas was gold. Whoever this jumped up little vagrant was,he would show him that at least.. Relentless then, the Lord swung again, looking for an opportunity to break through whatever defence his opponent had to offer.
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He did not expect any kind of discipline from the man- he had already proven himself without honour, so Achilleas was hardly surprised when the man danced out of the way like a coward. His taunting, whilst irritating, was merely added to the Lord’s inventory of wrongs that the man would be held to account for.
“What makes you think the Goddess would not be grateful for a blood sacrifice?” he retorted, circling to keep the man in his sights, for he had borne witness to the fact his quarry was fleet of foot already. If Lukos had expected the warrior to be stiff and rigid in his attack, he would be sorely disappointed. For whilst there was room for drills and discipline, on the field of battle there were no rules, it was man for man, and Achilleas was no stranger to that.
He parried the side swipe of the rogue’s sword with little effort, bared his teeth in what could be termed a smile, and followed. He was content to let the man run his mouth and waste his energy skipping behind every obstacle he could find. Achilleas observed the way he moved, the little patterns and habits that could be exploited later. He laughed at the man’s question, his attempt to rile. “ Do you suppose anyone would miss you if I did? I find it strangely hard to believe”
The Lord Mikaelidas was known as a level-headed man, usually quite good at keeping his temper. But he was not infallible, and as the pair continued their little game of cat and mouse in the temple gardens, Achilleas could feel his nerves wearing thin, his grip on the blade in his hand tightening with each word that escaped the mouth of the other.
“I tire of this” he said, cutting across whatever nonsense was being spewed at him, spinning deftly around the shrub that the man attempted to hide behind once more. The Lord pressed an attack then, a flurry of blows thrown at his opponent, fast and deadly like a viper striking. He did not seek to kill, no, this man would enjoy more a little time counting the hours in the desmoterion he thought, but it would feel good to spill a little of his blood and teach him a lesson in the meantime.
Achilleas remained light on his feet, unwilling to let the man put distance between them, using each blow to gain ground, to force the other to move backwards even as he stepped into the space given. He wanted to harry him, put him under pressure because in a fight, pressure could often separate the gold from the bronze and the Lord Mikaelidas was gold. Whoever this jumped up little vagrant was,he would show him that at least.. Relentless then, the Lord swung again, looking for an opportunity to break through whatever defence his opponent had to offer.
He did not expect any kind of discipline from the man- he had already proven himself without honour, so Achilleas was hardly surprised when the man danced out of the way like a coward. His taunting, whilst irritating, was merely added to the Lord’s inventory of wrongs that the man would be held to account for.
“What makes you think the Goddess would not be grateful for a blood sacrifice?” he retorted, circling to keep the man in his sights, for he had borne witness to the fact his quarry was fleet of foot already. If Lukos had expected the warrior to be stiff and rigid in his attack, he would be sorely disappointed. For whilst there was room for drills and discipline, on the field of battle there were no rules, it was man for man, and Achilleas was no stranger to that.
He parried the side swipe of the rogue’s sword with little effort, bared his teeth in what could be termed a smile, and followed. He was content to let the man run his mouth and waste his energy skipping behind every obstacle he could find. Achilleas observed the way he moved, the little patterns and habits that could be exploited later. He laughed at the man’s question, his attempt to rile. “ Do you suppose anyone would miss you if I did? I find it strangely hard to believe”
The Lord Mikaelidas was known as a level-headed man, usually quite good at keeping his temper. But he was not infallible, and as the pair continued their little game of cat and mouse in the temple gardens, Achilleas could feel his nerves wearing thin, his grip on the blade in his hand tightening with each word that escaped the mouth of the other.
“I tire of this” he said, cutting across whatever nonsense was being spewed at him, spinning deftly around the shrub that the man attempted to hide behind once more. The Lord pressed an attack then, a flurry of blows thrown at his opponent, fast and deadly like a viper striking. He did not seek to kill, no, this man would enjoy more a little time counting the hours in the desmoterion he thought, but it would feel good to spill a little of his blood and teach him a lesson in the meantime.
Achilleas remained light on his feet, unwilling to let the man put distance between them, using each blow to gain ground, to force the other to move backwards even as he stepped into the space given. He wanted to harry him, put him under pressure because in a fight, pressure could often separate the gold from the bronze and the Lord Mikaelidas was gold. Whoever this jumped up little vagrant was,he would show him that at least.. Relentless then, the Lord swung again, looking for an opportunity to break through whatever defence his opponent had to offer.
Lukos laughed when Achilleas taunted that no one would miss him. Oh, they’d miss him alright. And come to fetch him too. He was not at all concerned with ever being left behind. The sailors who worked for him could work a ship without him, of course, but none of them had the ambition and drive that he did. People inherently liked to be told what to do, except for a precious few like himself. What he wasn’t going to do was brag that his crew would come get him to Achilleas.
The more they danced around each other in the garden, the more Lukos laughed and grinned. Achilleas’s temper was on his face and the pirate could see that he’d hit a raw nerve. Good. The man had been a little too inside his own ass earlier. Better to show him that he was human and that just because the gods had seen fit to bless him with a rich family did not mean he was any better than a slave’s son.
Once he said that he grew weary of the games, he displayed a new sort of fury that Lukos had been wanting and had thought he was prepared for. In that, he was mistaken. The skill and ferociousness that Achilleas displayed would have been admirable if Lukos had not been on the receiving end. It was all he could do to parry the blows. Each time he deflected or had to guard against Achilleas’s sword, he could feel the power of it radiate up his arm and into his shoulder. The best course, he decided was to give ground. He wasn’t protecting anyone but himself and didn’t need to hold his position.
This meant that the two of them raced back the way they’d come. At the same time that Achilleas chose to essentially end the fight and break through his defenses, Lukos’s foot slid out from under him. It was as if by some supernatural force because one second, he was fine, the next, he was on his back with a shallow gash across his shoulder from where Achilleas’s sword had caught him when he fell. He stared up at Achilleas and finally released his hold on the hilt of his sword, exposing both palms up in a slow surrender.
Blood leaked onto the grass. The wound burned but Lukos paid it no attention. His gaze was locked onto Achilleas’s, wondering if this oh-so-honorable man would break the law and kill him right here. Well. If he did, at least it was a comfort to know that Achilleas would rot in prison for being an arrogant twat.
“You drew first blood, my lord,” Lukos murmured. “I wonder what a judge would make of that.”
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Lukos laughed when Achilleas taunted that no one would miss him. Oh, they’d miss him alright. And come to fetch him too. He was not at all concerned with ever being left behind. The sailors who worked for him could work a ship without him, of course, but none of them had the ambition and drive that he did. People inherently liked to be told what to do, except for a precious few like himself. What he wasn’t going to do was brag that his crew would come get him to Achilleas.
The more they danced around each other in the garden, the more Lukos laughed and grinned. Achilleas’s temper was on his face and the pirate could see that he’d hit a raw nerve. Good. The man had been a little too inside his own ass earlier. Better to show him that he was human and that just because the gods had seen fit to bless him with a rich family did not mean he was any better than a slave’s son.
Once he said that he grew weary of the games, he displayed a new sort of fury that Lukos had been wanting and had thought he was prepared for. In that, he was mistaken. The skill and ferociousness that Achilleas displayed would have been admirable if Lukos had not been on the receiving end. It was all he could do to parry the blows. Each time he deflected or had to guard against Achilleas’s sword, he could feel the power of it radiate up his arm and into his shoulder. The best course, he decided was to give ground. He wasn’t protecting anyone but himself and didn’t need to hold his position.
This meant that the two of them raced back the way they’d come. At the same time that Achilleas chose to essentially end the fight and break through his defenses, Lukos’s foot slid out from under him. It was as if by some supernatural force because one second, he was fine, the next, he was on his back with a shallow gash across his shoulder from where Achilleas’s sword had caught him when he fell. He stared up at Achilleas and finally released his hold on the hilt of his sword, exposing both palms up in a slow surrender.
Blood leaked onto the grass. The wound burned but Lukos paid it no attention. His gaze was locked onto Achilleas’s, wondering if this oh-so-honorable man would break the law and kill him right here. Well. If he did, at least it was a comfort to know that Achilleas would rot in prison for being an arrogant twat.
“You drew first blood, my lord,” Lukos murmured. “I wonder what a judge would make of that.”
Lukos laughed when Achilleas taunted that no one would miss him. Oh, they’d miss him alright. And come to fetch him too. He was not at all concerned with ever being left behind. The sailors who worked for him could work a ship without him, of course, but none of them had the ambition and drive that he did. People inherently liked to be told what to do, except for a precious few like himself. What he wasn’t going to do was brag that his crew would come get him to Achilleas.
The more they danced around each other in the garden, the more Lukos laughed and grinned. Achilleas’s temper was on his face and the pirate could see that he’d hit a raw nerve. Good. The man had been a little too inside his own ass earlier. Better to show him that he was human and that just because the gods had seen fit to bless him with a rich family did not mean he was any better than a slave’s son.
Once he said that he grew weary of the games, he displayed a new sort of fury that Lukos had been wanting and had thought he was prepared for. In that, he was mistaken. The skill and ferociousness that Achilleas displayed would have been admirable if Lukos had not been on the receiving end. It was all he could do to parry the blows. Each time he deflected or had to guard against Achilleas’s sword, he could feel the power of it radiate up his arm and into his shoulder. The best course, he decided was to give ground. He wasn’t protecting anyone but himself and didn’t need to hold his position.
This meant that the two of them raced back the way they’d come. At the same time that Achilleas chose to essentially end the fight and break through his defenses, Lukos’s foot slid out from under him. It was as if by some supernatural force because one second, he was fine, the next, he was on his back with a shallow gash across his shoulder from where Achilleas’s sword had caught him when he fell. He stared up at Achilleas and finally released his hold on the hilt of his sword, exposing both palms up in a slow surrender.
Blood leaked onto the grass. The wound burned but Lukos paid it no attention. His gaze was locked onto Achilleas’s, wondering if this oh-so-honorable man would break the law and kill him right here. Well. If he did, at least it was a comfort to know that Achilleas would rot in prison for being an arrogant twat.
“You drew first blood, my lord,” Lukos murmured. “I wonder what a judge would make of that.”
Though he was loathe to admit it, the Lord Mikaelidas was impressed by the defence that the other man put up. He knew his way around a fight, that much was clear enough, and the peaceful gardens of the temple were disturbed by the ringing sound of metal upon metal. Achilleas did not slow in the rain of blows he aimed at his foe, and he was single minded in his drive to push the man back, to make him retreat under the power he wielded.
Eventually he would stumble. They always did.
It was exhilarating, and though he tried not to let emotion come into swordplay, Achilleas could not deny that this altercation was proving a good outlet for some of the frustrations that had built in the days gone before, that he took some enjoyment in having someone to whale on. Almost then, there was a sense of regret when the fight was decided, when the man tripped and the Lord felt the give of flesh beneath the bronze blade.
When hands lifted in surrender, Achilleas held his sword at the man’s breast, eyes fierce as he stared down at him. It would be so easy to drive the blade forward, through skin and muscle, between bone and through to the thumping heart beneath. An action he had performed countless times, on countless men whose faces he could see still. He grit his teeth, the muscles in his arms bunching in anticipation.Not like this.
He realised the difference even before the scrot dared to speak again, and the warrior drew a long breath in through his nose, his gaze lifting and then hardening again as the guard who was supposed to have handled this miscreant came back into sight, skidding to a halt as he looked between the lord and the fallen man. Achilleas drew back, kept his sword readied even as he addressed the guard.
“This man attacked me” he said, in a cool, unruffled voice. “Perhaps you might do as you were supposed to do and restrain him now?” He stood back only enough to let the guard haul Lukos to his feet, and watched with an almost mocking sort of satisfaction as the man’s hands were bound behind him, the tail end of the rope looped about his ankles so flight was no longer an option. The point of the lord’s sword remained levelled at Lukos the whole time.
“My Lord? Is he to be taken to the stocks, my Lord?”
Achilleas gave a brief bark of laughter. “No. This one goes to the fylaki. Tell your man there here is a gift, with kind regards of Lord Achilleas of Mikaelidas. He is to be detained at my pleasure”
When he was sure the guard had the dark-haired man contained, the lord let his sword drop, wiped it on the grass to remove the stain on blood before he sheathed it once more. He looked steadily at Lukos. “Mayhaps you will take this opportunity to learn to guard your tongue, and pick your fights” he said simply, before jerking his head for the guard to take the man away. Achilleas did not watch as Lukos was dragged from the temple grounds.
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Though he was loathe to admit it, the Lord Mikaelidas was impressed by the defence that the other man put up. He knew his way around a fight, that much was clear enough, and the peaceful gardens of the temple were disturbed by the ringing sound of metal upon metal. Achilleas did not slow in the rain of blows he aimed at his foe, and he was single minded in his drive to push the man back, to make him retreat under the power he wielded.
Eventually he would stumble. They always did.
It was exhilarating, and though he tried not to let emotion come into swordplay, Achilleas could not deny that this altercation was proving a good outlet for some of the frustrations that had built in the days gone before, that he took some enjoyment in having someone to whale on. Almost then, there was a sense of regret when the fight was decided, when the man tripped and the Lord felt the give of flesh beneath the bronze blade.
When hands lifted in surrender, Achilleas held his sword at the man’s breast, eyes fierce as he stared down at him. It would be so easy to drive the blade forward, through skin and muscle, between bone and through to the thumping heart beneath. An action he had performed countless times, on countless men whose faces he could see still. He grit his teeth, the muscles in his arms bunching in anticipation.Not like this.
He realised the difference even before the scrot dared to speak again, and the warrior drew a long breath in through his nose, his gaze lifting and then hardening again as the guard who was supposed to have handled this miscreant came back into sight, skidding to a halt as he looked between the lord and the fallen man. Achilleas drew back, kept his sword readied even as he addressed the guard.
“This man attacked me” he said, in a cool, unruffled voice. “Perhaps you might do as you were supposed to do and restrain him now?” He stood back only enough to let the guard haul Lukos to his feet, and watched with an almost mocking sort of satisfaction as the man’s hands were bound behind him, the tail end of the rope looped about his ankles so flight was no longer an option. The point of the lord’s sword remained levelled at Lukos the whole time.
“My Lord? Is he to be taken to the stocks, my Lord?”
Achilleas gave a brief bark of laughter. “No. This one goes to the fylaki. Tell your man there here is a gift, with kind regards of Lord Achilleas of Mikaelidas. He is to be detained at my pleasure”
When he was sure the guard had the dark-haired man contained, the lord let his sword drop, wiped it on the grass to remove the stain on blood before he sheathed it once more. He looked steadily at Lukos. “Mayhaps you will take this opportunity to learn to guard your tongue, and pick your fights” he said simply, before jerking his head for the guard to take the man away. Achilleas did not watch as Lukos was dragged from the temple grounds.
Though he was loathe to admit it, the Lord Mikaelidas was impressed by the defence that the other man put up. He knew his way around a fight, that much was clear enough, and the peaceful gardens of the temple were disturbed by the ringing sound of metal upon metal. Achilleas did not slow in the rain of blows he aimed at his foe, and he was single minded in his drive to push the man back, to make him retreat under the power he wielded.
Eventually he would stumble. They always did.
It was exhilarating, and though he tried not to let emotion come into swordplay, Achilleas could not deny that this altercation was proving a good outlet for some of the frustrations that had built in the days gone before, that he took some enjoyment in having someone to whale on. Almost then, there was a sense of regret when the fight was decided, when the man tripped and the Lord felt the give of flesh beneath the bronze blade.
When hands lifted in surrender, Achilleas held his sword at the man’s breast, eyes fierce as he stared down at him. It would be so easy to drive the blade forward, through skin and muscle, between bone and through to the thumping heart beneath. An action he had performed countless times, on countless men whose faces he could see still. He grit his teeth, the muscles in his arms bunching in anticipation.Not like this.
He realised the difference even before the scrot dared to speak again, and the warrior drew a long breath in through his nose, his gaze lifting and then hardening again as the guard who was supposed to have handled this miscreant came back into sight, skidding to a halt as he looked between the lord and the fallen man. Achilleas drew back, kept his sword readied even as he addressed the guard.
“This man attacked me” he said, in a cool, unruffled voice. “Perhaps you might do as you were supposed to do and restrain him now?” He stood back only enough to let the guard haul Lukos to his feet, and watched with an almost mocking sort of satisfaction as the man’s hands were bound behind him, the tail end of the rope looped about his ankles so flight was no longer an option. The point of the lord’s sword remained levelled at Lukos the whole time.
“My Lord? Is he to be taken to the stocks, my Lord?”
Achilleas gave a brief bark of laughter. “No. This one goes to the fylaki. Tell your man there here is a gift, with kind regards of Lord Achilleas of Mikaelidas. He is to be detained at my pleasure”
When he was sure the guard had the dark-haired man contained, the lord let his sword drop, wiped it on the grass to remove the stain on blood before he sheathed it once more. He looked steadily at Lukos. “Mayhaps you will take this opportunity to learn to guard your tongue, and pick your fights” he said simply, before jerking his head for the guard to take the man away. Achilleas did not watch as Lukos was dragged from the temple grounds.