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Only a few minutes after the cultists had abandoned the Leventi guest house, were the words of its owner permeating the air.
Fotios of Leventi stood had approached the house in order to retrieve some books and documents he kept in storage that he just happened to need that evening for the project he was attending to. He had hastened his step when he had heard disturbances in the night, seeping through broken, open doors.
Remaining hidden as the masked figures had slipped outside and hastened into the shadows of the night, Fotios had waited until he was sure of no future enemies in the house before he had hurried across the inner courtyard with a light step and made it to the main door to the back foyer, his eyes taking in the carnage that littered his floors.
The bodies of guardsmen and cultists littered the floor and the two Mikaelidas brothers stood to one side. One was bleeding heavily from the shoulder, another looked bashed to all Hades. Theodora, he noted, seemed to be the worst for wear... her hair falling in every direction, her gown torn, dirty and stained red in a horrendous fashion that he initially thought was her own blood until he realised she had clearly been laying in the wine that soaked the floor. The black markings around her neck were, in fact, the blood he had mistakenly assumed to be saturating her garments.
He glanced between the three of them with narrowed eyes, assessing what had happened while the Creed had been attacking. Why Achilleas was here, he could ultimately guess. Returning to the side of his betrothed to ensure her safety during a cultist attack? This made perfect sense. His eyes narrowed further on Emilios... why he was here had yet to factor into his musings.
Fotios stood there for several heartbeats of silence, the Head of his House and the lord of the chaos he seemed to have inherited, looking between the two men and one woman for an explanation as to what had just occurred...
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"What in the name of the Gods happened here?"
Only a few minutes after the cultists had abandoned the Leventi guest house, were the words of its owner permeating the air.
Fotios of Leventi stood had approached the house in order to retrieve some books and documents he kept in storage that he just happened to need that evening for the project he was attending to. He had hastened his step when he had heard disturbances in the night, seeping through broken, open doors.
Remaining hidden as the masked figures had slipped outside and hastened into the shadows of the night, Fotios had waited until he was sure of no future enemies in the house before he had hurried across the inner courtyard with a light step and made it to the main door to the back foyer, his eyes taking in the carnage that littered his floors.
The bodies of guardsmen and cultists littered the floor and the two Mikaelidas brothers stood to one side. One was bleeding heavily from the shoulder, another looked bashed to all Hades. Theodora, he noted, seemed to be the worst for wear... her hair falling in every direction, her gown torn, dirty and stained red in a horrendous fashion that he initially thought was her own blood until he realised she had clearly been laying in the wine that soaked the floor. The black markings around her neck were, in fact, the blood he had mistakenly assumed to be saturating her garments.
He glanced between the three of them with narrowed eyes, assessing what had happened while the Creed had been attacking. Why Achilleas was here, he could ultimately guess. Returning to the side of his betrothed to ensure her safety during a cultist attack? This made perfect sense. His eyes narrowed further on Emilios... why he was here had yet to factor into his musings.
Fotios stood there for several heartbeats of silence, the Head of his House and the lord of the chaos he seemed to have inherited, looking between the two men and one woman for an explanation as to what had just occurred...
"What in the name of the Gods happened here?"
Only a few minutes after the cultists had abandoned the Leventi guest house, were the words of its owner permeating the air.
Fotios of Leventi stood had approached the house in order to retrieve some books and documents he kept in storage that he just happened to need that evening for the project he was attending to. He had hastened his step when he had heard disturbances in the night, seeping through broken, open doors.
Remaining hidden as the masked figures had slipped outside and hastened into the shadows of the night, Fotios had waited until he was sure of no future enemies in the house before he had hurried across the inner courtyard with a light step and made it to the main door to the back foyer, his eyes taking in the carnage that littered his floors.
The bodies of guardsmen and cultists littered the floor and the two Mikaelidas brothers stood to one side. One was bleeding heavily from the shoulder, another looked bashed to all Hades. Theodora, he noted, seemed to be the worst for wear... her hair falling in every direction, her gown torn, dirty and stained red in a horrendous fashion that he initially thought was her own blood until he realised she had clearly been laying in the wine that soaked the floor. The black markings around her neck were, in fact, the blood he had mistakenly assumed to be saturating her garments.
He glanced between the three of them with narrowed eyes, assessing what had happened while the Creed had been attacking. Why Achilleas was here, he could ultimately guess. Returning to the side of his betrothed to ensure her safety during a cultist attack? This made perfect sense. His eyes narrowed further on Emilios... why he was here had yet to factor into his musings.
Fotios stood there for several heartbeats of silence, the Head of his House and the lord of the chaos he seemed to have inherited, looking between the two men and one woman for an explanation as to what had just occurred...
Seeing his brother throw, and the blade that was pressed to Theodora’s throat had Achilleas abandoning his attempt at stealth and charged forward, fully intent on running the man through for his part in what’d happened this day, the main thing being that he was part of the group that had murdered his uncle and cousin. That they’d laid hands on his beloved was the final straw.
Shocked by the way the masked fiend used him a springboard out of the fight, Achilleas was quick to whirl around, slashing again at the figure who seemed to melt out of the way of his blade rather than facing him like a man.
When the other four hooded and masked Creed members emerged from the shadows, surrounding Theodora, Emilios and himself, Achilleas set his teeth, sending one swift look over at Emilios as his brother regained his feet.
“Back.” He commanded though in a low tone, shifting so his back wasn’t so exposed and moved closer to where Theodora lay, intent on protecting her any and all who would wish her harm.
Achilleas took no heed of the subtle movements of their hands and fingers, his sole focus was to fight for the survival of his betrothed, his brother and himself.
So he was shocked when they simply turned and left, when by right they should’ve felt that they had the advantage over he and Emilios.
He did wait a minute or two, then looked at his brother confusion in his gaze before he turned, and moved to where Theo lay, wiping his sword on chiton before sheathing it.
He spared a glace when Fotios entered demanding answers, but didn’t respond, not out of intention rudeness, but because something else was more important, tending to his bride to be. Sliding one arm under her knees and the other behind her back, he lifted her carefully into his arms, heedless of the blood that still ran from the would on his shoulder. “Are you alright?” He asked her softly, cradling her close as if she were the most precious thing in the world, which of course she was, to him at least.
Once he stood with Theo in his arms, did he answer her uncle, "The Creed attacked and the lady Theodora's been injured. Where's your healer?"
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Seeing his brother throw, and the blade that was pressed to Theodora’s throat had Achilleas abandoning his attempt at stealth and charged forward, fully intent on running the man through for his part in what’d happened this day, the main thing being that he was part of the group that had murdered his uncle and cousin. That they’d laid hands on his beloved was the final straw.
Shocked by the way the masked fiend used him a springboard out of the fight, Achilleas was quick to whirl around, slashing again at the figure who seemed to melt out of the way of his blade rather than facing him like a man.
When the other four hooded and masked Creed members emerged from the shadows, surrounding Theodora, Emilios and himself, Achilleas set his teeth, sending one swift look over at Emilios as his brother regained his feet.
“Back.” He commanded though in a low tone, shifting so his back wasn’t so exposed and moved closer to where Theodora lay, intent on protecting her any and all who would wish her harm.
Achilleas took no heed of the subtle movements of their hands and fingers, his sole focus was to fight for the survival of his betrothed, his brother and himself.
So he was shocked when they simply turned and left, when by right they should’ve felt that they had the advantage over he and Emilios.
He did wait a minute or two, then looked at his brother confusion in his gaze before he turned, and moved to where Theo lay, wiping his sword on chiton before sheathing it.
He spared a glace when Fotios entered demanding answers, but didn’t respond, not out of intention rudeness, but because something else was more important, tending to his bride to be. Sliding one arm under her knees and the other behind her back, he lifted her carefully into his arms, heedless of the blood that still ran from the would on his shoulder. “Are you alright?” He asked her softly, cradling her close as if she were the most precious thing in the world, which of course she was, to him at least.
Once he stood with Theo in his arms, did he answer her uncle, "The Creed attacked and the lady Theodora's been injured. Where's your healer?"
Seeing his brother throw, and the blade that was pressed to Theodora’s throat had Achilleas abandoning his attempt at stealth and charged forward, fully intent on running the man through for his part in what’d happened this day, the main thing being that he was part of the group that had murdered his uncle and cousin. That they’d laid hands on his beloved was the final straw.
Shocked by the way the masked fiend used him a springboard out of the fight, Achilleas was quick to whirl around, slashing again at the figure who seemed to melt out of the way of his blade rather than facing him like a man.
When the other four hooded and masked Creed members emerged from the shadows, surrounding Theodora, Emilios and himself, Achilleas set his teeth, sending one swift look over at Emilios as his brother regained his feet.
“Back.” He commanded though in a low tone, shifting so his back wasn’t so exposed and moved closer to where Theodora lay, intent on protecting her any and all who would wish her harm.
Achilleas took no heed of the subtle movements of their hands and fingers, his sole focus was to fight for the survival of his betrothed, his brother and himself.
So he was shocked when they simply turned and left, when by right they should’ve felt that they had the advantage over he and Emilios.
He did wait a minute or two, then looked at his brother confusion in his gaze before he turned, and moved to where Theo lay, wiping his sword on chiton before sheathing it.
He spared a glace when Fotios entered demanding answers, but didn’t respond, not out of intention rudeness, but because something else was more important, tending to his bride to be. Sliding one arm under her knees and the other behind her back, he lifted her carefully into his arms, heedless of the blood that still ran from the would on his shoulder. “Are you alright?” He asked her softly, cradling her close as if she were the most precious thing in the world, which of course she was, to him at least.
Once he stood with Theo in his arms, did he answer her uncle, "The Creed attacked and the lady Theodora's been injured. Where's your healer?"
“Back.”
It was a command they’d trained on thousands of times. Beneficial when fighting multiple foes, the brothers had practiced the technique to better their chances. The theory was that you couldn’t get stabbed in the back if you were pressed against someone.
Shaking off his attacker, Emilios was on his feet turning to better protect both his brother and his love. But, as quickly as they had moved in, they were dissipating. He wanted to retrieve his bow, to attempt to take out a few as they retreated. His head was swimming, both from the few hits he’d taken as from the moments prior to it. He wanted to grab Theo, to make sure she was okay. But it wasn’t his place.
She wasn’t his concern.
Achilleas rushed to her side, and Emilios was going to start unmasking the men. But Fotios was among them only moments after, so quickly that the younger brother was slightly intrigued. Did he not see any of them on his way out? “You are going to need to restock your wine, it would seem, my lord.” He said offhand, taking a moment to brush himself off. A small wound to his brow, a sore jaw— most of the blood wasn’t his. He knew it was going to be painful in the morning. For reasons he didn’t want to think about.
He stood back, trying to gather his wits. There was no reason to explain himself, at least not to Lord Fotios.
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“Back.”
It was a command they’d trained on thousands of times. Beneficial when fighting multiple foes, the brothers had practiced the technique to better their chances. The theory was that you couldn’t get stabbed in the back if you were pressed against someone.
Shaking off his attacker, Emilios was on his feet turning to better protect both his brother and his love. But, as quickly as they had moved in, they were dissipating. He wanted to retrieve his bow, to attempt to take out a few as they retreated. His head was swimming, both from the few hits he’d taken as from the moments prior to it. He wanted to grab Theo, to make sure she was okay. But it wasn’t his place.
She wasn’t his concern.
Achilleas rushed to her side, and Emilios was going to start unmasking the men. But Fotios was among them only moments after, so quickly that the younger brother was slightly intrigued. Did he not see any of them on his way out? “You are going to need to restock your wine, it would seem, my lord.” He said offhand, taking a moment to brush himself off. A small wound to his brow, a sore jaw— most of the blood wasn’t his. He knew it was going to be painful in the morning. For reasons he didn’t want to think about.
He stood back, trying to gather his wits. There was no reason to explain himself, at least not to Lord Fotios.
“Back.”
It was a command they’d trained on thousands of times. Beneficial when fighting multiple foes, the brothers had practiced the technique to better their chances. The theory was that you couldn’t get stabbed in the back if you were pressed against someone.
Shaking off his attacker, Emilios was on his feet turning to better protect both his brother and his love. But, as quickly as they had moved in, they were dissipating. He wanted to retrieve his bow, to attempt to take out a few as they retreated. His head was swimming, both from the few hits he’d taken as from the moments prior to it. He wanted to grab Theo, to make sure she was okay. But it wasn’t his place.
She wasn’t his concern.
Achilleas rushed to her side, and Emilios was going to start unmasking the men. But Fotios was among them only moments after, so quickly that the younger brother was slightly intrigued. Did he not see any of them on his way out? “You are going to need to restock your wine, it would seem, my lord.” He said offhand, taking a moment to brush himself off. A small wound to his brow, a sore jaw— most of the blood wasn’t his. He knew it was going to be painful in the morning. For reasons he didn’t want to think about.
He stood back, trying to gather his wits. There was no reason to explain himself, at least not to Lord Fotios.
Fotios had no reason to think anything untoward had happened between Theo and the brothers; especially at this moment in time when the two of them were breathless in defending her after the creed had mysteriously walked away when they’d moments before held the upper hand. There was no indication that Emilios hadn’t simply arrived with Achilleas when he came to check on her; furthermore, after Achilleas had left her in his charge, there was no reason to assume he wasn’t there for anything more than such a noble cause.
At least, superficially.
In that moment, Theo showed no favor for the brothers, and the brothers had just done their level best to keep each other alive, even while she had almost lost her life. Selfishly she wanted to be upset that they hadn’t directly fought to protect her; the dark emptiness of the masked intruder still haunted her. ...But she knew they had done their best. Their adversary was just too great and too many in number to fend off. It was no one's fault.
As quiet descended on the Leventi guest house, the men gathered themselves and assessed their injuries. Almost instantly, Achilleas hurried to her side. He crouched down beside her as he cleaned off his sword. Thalia looked over his shoulder at Emilios, but his shoulder was turned to them. She felt shaky and didn’t think she could stand if she wanted to. Achilleas immediately gathered her up; cradling her against his chest, and her arms went around his shoulders naturally. He lifted her as if he hadn’t just battled a legion of creed after running all over Taengea retrieving her family. Her first inclination was to protest; to have him set her down because she wasn’t some invalid incapable of taking care of herself. But she felt bruised and battered; weak and every ache seemed to flood her at once. She wasn’t meant for battle. Her strength came in her opinion. Perhaps on the back of a horse, but right now even standing seemed like too much.
She wanted Emilios to lift her. She wanted his strong arms holding her up; asking her how she was. She knew he would have something witty and slightly deprecating to say to her that would inevitably make her laugh. But he kept his distance; assessing the fallen creed as Achilleas asked after her. Honestly, she felt as if she was flung from a chariot. She meant to tell him she’d be ok, but all she could choke out over the lump in her throat was “My mother..”
Hadn’t they just risked everything for the woman? Theo for her, Emilios for Theo, and Achilleas for both of them? None of this would be over until Theo was assured she was okay. She brushed her hand against the wound on her throat before letting her head fall against his shoulder; exhausted and emotionally spent. She couldn’t focus on her uncle; couldn’t find the sense of guilt she probably should have for meeting Emilios earlier. For their kisses and her desire for him now… because inevitably, that was all her uncle did was make her feel guilty for what she lacked as the second born daughter of his brother. She just didn’t have it in her now.
JD
Staff Team
JD
Staff Team
This post was created by our staff team.
Please contact us with your queries and questions.
Fotios had no reason to think anything untoward had happened between Theo and the brothers; especially at this moment in time when the two of them were breathless in defending her after the creed had mysteriously walked away when they’d moments before held the upper hand. There was no indication that Emilios hadn’t simply arrived with Achilleas when he came to check on her; furthermore, after Achilleas had left her in his charge, there was no reason to assume he wasn’t there for anything more than such a noble cause.
At least, superficially.
In that moment, Theo showed no favor for the brothers, and the brothers had just done their level best to keep each other alive, even while she had almost lost her life. Selfishly she wanted to be upset that they hadn’t directly fought to protect her; the dark emptiness of the masked intruder still haunted her. ...But she knew they had done their best. Their adversary was just too great and too many in number to fend off. It was no one's fault.
As quiet descended on the Leventi guest house, the men gathered themselves and assessed their injuries. Almost instantly, Achilleas hurried to her side. He crouched down beside her as he cleaned off his sword. Thalia looked over his shoulder at Emilios, but his shoulder was turned to them. She felt shaky and didn’t think she could stand if she wanted to. Achilleas immediately gathered her up; cradling her against his chest, and her arms went around his shoulders naturally. He lifted her as if he hadn’t just battled a legion of creed after running all over Taengea retrieving her family. Her first inclination was to protest; to have him set her down because she wasn’t some invalid incapable of taking care of herself. But she felt bruised and battered; weak and every ache seemed to flood her at once. She wasn’t meant for battle. Her strength came in her opinion. Perhaps on the back of a horse, but right now even standing seemed like too much.
She wanted Emilios to lift her. She wanted his strong arms holding her up; asking her how she was. She knew he would have something witty and slightly deprecating to say to her that would inevitably make her laugh. But he kept his distance; assessing the fallen creed as Achilleas asked after her. Honestly, she felt as if she was flung from a chariot. She meant to tell him she’d be ok, but all she could choke out over the lump in her throat was “My mother..”
Hadn’t they just risked everything for the woman? Theo for her, Emilios for Theo, and Achilleas for both of them? None of this would be over until Theo was assured she was okay. She brushed her hand against the wound on her throat before letting her head fall against his shoulder; exhausted and emotionally spent. She couldn’t focus on her uncle; couldn’t find the sense of guilt she probably should have for meeting Emilios earlier. For their kisses and her desire for him now… because inevitably, that was all her uncle did was make her feel guilty for what she lacked as the second born daughter of his brother. She just didn’t have it in her now.
Fotios had no reason to think anything untoward had happened between Theo and the brothers; especially at this moment in time when the two of them were breathless in defending her after the creed had mysteriously walked away when they’d moments before held the upper hand. There was no indication that Emilios hadn’t simply arrived with Achilleas when he came to check on her; furthermore, after Achilleas had left her in his charge, there was no reason to assume he wasn’t there for anything more than such a noble cause.
At least, superficially.
In that moment, Theo showed no favor for the brothers, and the brothers had just done their level best to keep each other alive, even while she had almost lost her life. Selfishly she wanted to be upset that they hadn’t directly fought to protect her; the dark emptiness of the masked intruder still haunted her. ...But she knew they had done their best. Their adversary was just too great and too many in number to fend off. It was no one's fault.
As quiet descended on the Leventi guest house, the men gathered themselves and assessed their injuries. Almost instantly, Achilleas hurried to her side. He crouched down beside her as he cleaned off his sword. Thalia looked over his shoulder at Emilios, but his shoulder was turned to them. She felt shaky and didn’t think she could stand if she wanted to. Achilleas immediately gathered her up; cradling her against his chest, and her arms went around his shoulders naturally. He lifted her as if he hadn’t just battled a legion of creed after running all over Taengea retrieving her family. Her first inclination was to protest; to have him set her down because she wasn’t some invalid incapable of taking care of herself. But she felt bruised and battered; weak and every ache seemed to flood her at once. She wasn’t meant for battle. Her strength came in her opinion. Perhaps on the back of a horse, but right now even standing seemed like too much.
She wanted Emilios to lift her. She wanted his strong arms holding her up; asking her how she was. She knew he would have something witty and slightly deprecating to say to her that would inevitably make her laugh. But he kept his distance; assessing the fallen creed as Achilleas asked after her. Honestly, she felt as if she was flung from a chariot. She meant to tell him she’d be ok, but all she could choke out over the lump in her throat was “My mother..”
Hadn’t they just risked everything for the woman? Theo for her, Emilios for Theo, and Achilleas for both of them? None of this would be over until Theo was assured she was okay. She brushed her hand against the wound on her throat before letting her head fall against his shoulder; exhausted and emotionally spent. She couldn’t focus on her uncle; couldn’t find the sense of guilt she probably should have for meeting Emilios earlier. For their kisses and her desire for him now… because inevitably, that was all her uncle did was make her feel guilty for what she lacked as the second born daughter of his brother. She just didn’t have it in her now.
Fotios realised by the look of confused suspicion that flitted across Emilios's features that his words had been misconstrued. He knew, of course, that the Creed had been in his second house, for he had seen them fleeing it. He had meant the question to be a general exclamation of concern - not only at the state of the home but for the safety of those it contained. For all three of them looked in no fit state.
While it was Achilleas who seemed in the most imminent need of a physician - his shoulder bled in a manner that suggested a deep puncture over a surface wound - it was the eldest Mikaelidas son who insisted on one such man for the Lady Theodora. And Fotios smiled a little at his concern for her. He glanced at Theodora with a knowing look, glad he had arranged her marriage to a man who at least seemed to care so deeply for her as to lift her into his arms when he himself was injured.
To the Lord Emilios, he responded first, answering his humorous remarks about the wine with a condescending wave of his hand.
"Worry not, young Lord. Of wine we have plenty." He offered the joke. "It is to the safety of the three of you that I am most concerned."
And on that note, he turned quickly to Lord Achilleas, as he insisted on a healer.
"I shall have one brought to the house immediately." He stated in a tone of respect and determination. Lord Achilleas, he knew, was a man of action and war. He would, he suspected, appreciate a quick and firm plan. Fotios held out an arm, stepping back from the door to allow the man to pass with his fiancé in his arms.
"Make haste - we'll set her down in the main house. I have doubled the guards there since this afternoon and we have yet to be disturbed." He told them. "I came by here earlier to bring the rest of my family to the house in order to ensure their protection." To which he smoothly led into his answer to his niece's concerns. "You mother is there, Theodora." He told her. "Safely arguing the merits of philosophy with my wife." His eyes narrowed as the small and battered group made their way into the courtyard. "She confirmed that you were not in the house when I came by earlier..." His gaze narrowed further and, when Achilleas' head was turned away from them, intent on picking his way between the broken pieces of door frame littering the marble tiles that he stared at Theodora considerately. "You should have informed your mother that you had only gone out to ride for a short time. I'm sure she would be horrified to know you returned to such dangers."
Years of courtly practice kept Fotios' tone light, despite the stoniness of his gaze as he looked back to call to Emilios who was inspecting one of the bodies.
"Do come, my Lord." He told the man with a tone of impatience. "The bodies are hardly going anywhere. You shall have the time to investigate once we have attended to your brother and his fiancé’s injuries. Come now, we must prioritise in crises such as these..."
And without another backward glance, Fotios encouraged the small band, back to the main house, where he indeed kept his word and sent a runner for the finest healer in town, as fast as the man's legs could carry him...
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Fotios realised by the look of confused suspicion that flitted across Emilios's features that his words had been misconstrued. He knew, of course, that the Creed had been in his second house, for he had seen them fleeing it. He had meant the question to be a general exclamation of concern - not only at the state of the home but for the safety of those it contained. For all three of them looked in no fit state.
While it was Achilleas who seemed in the most imminent need of a physician - his shoulder bled in a manner that suggested a deep puncture over a surface wound - it was the eldest Mikaelidas son who insisted on one such man for the Lady Theodora. And Fotios smiled a little at his concern for her. He glanced at Theodora with a knowing look, glad he had arranged her marriage to a man who at least seemed to care so deeply for her as to lift her into his arms when he himself was injured.
To the Lord Emilios, he responded first, answering his humorous remarks about the wine with a condescending wave of his hand.
"Worry not, young Lord. Of wine we have plenty." He offered the joke. "It is to the safety of the three of you that I am most concerned."
And on that note, he turned quickly to Lord Achilleas, as he insisted on a healer.
"I shall have one brought to the house immediately." He stated in a tone of respect and determination. Lord Achilleas, he knew, was a man of action and war. He would, he suspected, appreciate a quick and firm plan. Fotios held out an arm, stepping back from the door to allow the man to pass with his fiancé in his arms.
"Make haste - we'll set her down in the main house. I have doubled the guards there since this afternoon and we have yet to be disturbed." He told them. "I came by here earlier to bring the rest of my family to the house in order to ensure their protection." To which he smoothly led into his answer to his niece's concerns. "You mother is there, Theodora." He told her. "Safely arguing the merits of philosophy with my wife." His eyes narrowed as the small and battered group made their way into the courtyard. "She confirmed that you were not in the house when I came by earlier..." His gaze narrowed further and, when Achilleas' head was turned away from them, intent on picking his way between the broken pieces of door frame littering the marble tiles that he stared at Theodora considerately. "You should have informed your mother that you had only gone out to ride for a short time. I'm sure she would be horrified to know you returned to such dangers."
Years of courtly practice kept Fotios' tone light, despite the stoniness of his gaze as he looked back to call to Emilios who was inspecting one of the bodies.
"Do come, my Lord." He told the man with a tone of impatience. "The bodies are hardly going anywhere. You shall have the time to investigate once we have attended to your brother and his fiancé’s injuries. Come now, we must prioritise in crises such as these..."
And without another backward glance, Fotios encouraged the small band, back to the main house, where he indeed kept his word and sent a runner for the finest healer in town, as fast as the man's legs could carry him...
Fotios realised by the look of confused suspicion that flitted across Emilios's features that his words had been misconstrued. He knew, of course, that the Creed had been in his second house, for he had seen them fleeing it. He had meant the question to be a general exclamation of concern - not only at the state of the home but for the safety of those it contained. For all three of them looked in no fit state.
While it was Achilleas who seemed in the most imminent need of a physician - his shoulder bled in a manner that suggested a deep puncture over a surface wound - it was the eldest Mikaelidas son who insisted on one such man for the Lady Theodora. And Fotios smiled a little at his concern for her. He glanced at Theodora with a knowing look, glad he had arranged her marriage to a man who at least seemed to care so deeply for her as to lift her into his arms when he himself was injured.
To the Lord Emilios, he responded first, answering his humorous remarks about the wine with a condescending wave of his hand.
"Worry not, young Lord. Of wine we have plenty." He offered the joke. "It is to the safety of the three of you that I am most concerned."
And on that note, he turned quickly to Lord Achilleas, as he insisted on a healer.
"I shall have one brought to the house immediately." He stated in a tone of respect and determination. Lord Achilleas, he knew, was a man of action and war. He would, he suspected, appreciate a quick and firm plan. Fotios held out an arm, stepping back from the door to allow the man to pass with his fiancé in his arms.
"Make haste - we'll set her down in the main house. I have doubled the guards there since this afternoon and we have yet to be disturbed." He told them. "I came by here earlier to bring the rest of my family to the house in order to ensure their protection." To which he smoothly led into his answer to his niece's concerns. "You mother is there, Theodora." He told her. "Safely arguing the merits of philosophy with my wife." His eyes narrowed as the small and battered group made their way into the courtyard. "She confirmed that you were not in the house when I came by earlier..." His gaze narrowed further and, when Achilleas' head was turned away from them, intent on picking his way between the broken pieces of door frame littering the marble tiles that he stared at Theodora considerately. "You should have informed your mother that you had only gone out to ride for a short time. I'm sure she would be horrified to know you returned to such dangers."
Years of courtly practice kept Fotios' tone light, despite the stoniness of his gaze as he looked back to call to Emilios who was inspecting one of the bodies.
"Do come, my Lord." He told the man with a tone of impatience. "The bodies are hardly going anywhere. You shall have the time to investigate once we have attended to your brother and his fiancé’s injuries. Come now, we must prioritise in crises such as these..."
And without another backward glance, Fotios encouraged the small band, back to the main house, where he indeed kept his word and sent a runner for the finest healer in town, as fast as the man's legs could carry him...
