Imperium Renascentis

[Pharaoh]

“When you are installed as overseer, you might deem it pragmatic to exploit the Archduke’s expertise as a chronomancer to better manage the Commomwealth’s use of the Craft. Our Phædreon is passing keen to please Our Founders and might be well installed as a chief time mage to supervise its use and perhaps impose restrictions. Whilst I respect the Ambition required to dabble in so delicate and dangerous a Craft, I agree that it wants stark limits.” Phocion replied.

“That seems an achievable endeavour given what I know of Phædreon Extempestus. The name rather says it all on that front.” The Moonborn added.

“I am so pleased for you, Finn!” Arry fair beamed. “You deserve to be so much more than a prince consort whose power derives from me alone. With this new position, you might be a ruler in your own right over a realm larger than mine own!”

“Your Highness’ father’s own, and I would remind my Exalted Prince that the Commonwealth, too, will be his, if all goes as planned.”

“I am well aware. Our Holy Mother teaches that all of us have our Masters, but practically speaking we would both be managing the day-to-day affairs of large demesnes. Like those Great Dragon gods of whom Finn speaks, our Zalkyrian liege cares not to assert his ample power wantonly. One needs not bend their knees to those aloof to the gesture.”

“Indeed. At any rate, three days or whatever you and His Grace see fit to make of that, are perfectly fine with the Vigilia.” Phocion sipped his wine. With their business concluded, the conversation turned to matters of shared personal interest as wine was shared between the three until it seemed time to leave Phocion to his internal musings.

Arvælyn cleared the rest of his day, and walked Finn back to their apartments at the palace. He offered whatever help Finn might desire, but it was up to the human how to proceed with his preparations and assemble his team.

[Finn]

They didn't take up a great deal of Phocion's time. It wasn't until he was alone with Arvælyn that he showed any of the nervous turmoil within. But his husband had risen to the task, supported by his house and Finn himself; he supposed he could do the same. Back then, of course, Finn had been ready with a backdoor portal out of Solunarium should his then-lover decide it was all too much. Now, they were both of them in it for the long haul: with each other, with Solunarium and her Gods and Dragons.

The servi needed little direction; they began packing Sentinel blacks as well as finer stuff. Even finer stuff was demanded of the palace tailors, which would need to be ready when he left or could be sent along after. Word reached his living thralls that they would attend their Empyreal Lord in Drathera. Others, such as Phædreon, received their marching orders as well—for the Gods and Dragons of Solunarium, with Finn Their official mouthpiece.

Given Arvælyn had cleared his schedule for the day, Finn asked for his assessment of the place and its affairs, for whatever need-to-know information he now needed to know. His husband helped him secure his foundation, and he thanked him ardently.

The following days were spent in study, and setting his house in order. He would visit Syrena and his parents when time allowed, but the Custodes Deorum was unlikely to send the girl along with him given the identity of her mother. Ciarán would come with him, however. He wanted adventure and his presence might make the Curia think of this gesture as fraternal.

In order to seem a unified front to the Ecithians, he had a small honor guard of the Gold though he doubted anyone would get past Arkænyn. Vespera herself would be too conspicuous as a princess of the blood divine, but she knew him and she hand-picked them for him. She also gave them orders to give no quarter when sparring with him. He also visited Vrædyn to discuss how he might best plant seeds of poesy that might be nurtured into flowers of faith, and for a blessing upon his endeavor, of course. He asked for an acolyte of the Golden Devout to accompany him and ensure he had a walking encyclopedia of religious facts at his disposal.

In the end, he had a varied retinue, but as small as he could manage. The goal was all due pomp and circumstance without his retinue being large enough to be called an invading army.

Finally, the day came and he was preparing to cross over into Drathera. Everything and everyone was coming together. The only piece he wasn't sure about was the draconic: he has petitioned for one of the youngest of the platinum dragonflight to accompany him. One nigh as old as the Crownwyrm would too far surpass him and be seen as the true envoy, but a youngling might apprise him of the subtler differences between the Platinum Path and how the Ecithian dragons behaved.

He just didn't know whether it was well received or not.

[Pharaoh]

Vrædyn, seeming no less pleased at the prospect of Finn’s new assignment than his Phædryn cousins, saw fit to submit one of his own Majestic Vassals to accompany him. The young Vastian priest, Pater Ramses, was born into the Old Order Vastian Gens Ankhara— a nomadic desert family with roots in the Expanse and few in the capital. Primus Ankhara Ramses was a formidable Master Summoner and Sembler, as well as being an encyclopedic sage of the Radiant scriptures.

As to the matter of Finn’s request of the Zalkyrians, they answered through Arvælyn who, after a closed session of the Consilium Draconum in the Thalamum at Sorokyn’s core, reported back to his amatus.

“One of the Platinum sleepers who went to rest in Central Ecith awakened during the Eclipse and made contact with the Crown. He is called Alikhandrian of Verkágos. He was hatched of a clutch on an island off the coast of South Ecith in the final decades of the Conquest Wars and lingered awake on Ransera after most had fled to bask in the warmth of Re’hyax or lain to rest in a torpidity. He awaits you in Drathera.” The Princeps Draconum offered, smiling.

When the time came, the retinue would assemble at the place of Finn’s bidding. Arkænyn and Phædreon stood apart from the others, conferring in hushed tones and speaking with the intimacy of mates who had traversed the multiverse and faced death together. Pater Ramses, who appeared quiet and mild-mannered, sat by himself a few paces from the more illustrious names gathered.

Arvælyn and Phocion came to see the party off, with the Crown Prince announcing:

“Alikhandrian has sent word that he awaits you at your Ecithian headquarters. I need not pray that the Gods be with you, for well is it known that they already are, Finn the Twice Marked, Avowed of Aværys and Lord Ambassador to the Commonwealth.”

[Finn]

'Twas the 68th of Ash of the Year 124 of the Age of Steel, and only his parents would recognize young Finn son of Fionna. Resplendent in ceremonial armor and attire that hinted at his status as a Silver Sentinel, but acknowledged both his personhood and his status as prince-consort of the Umbrium and official envoy to the Ecithian Commonwealth. Gold-ornamented silver on black was impressive enough, but he wore the mantle of Deus Aværys Himself. The light loved him, clinging to him, making him Radiant.

The weak of heart would tremble, the strong of heart respect. Here was an Empyreal Lord.

But he had the human touch, as well.

"You must be Primus Ankhara Ramses." He inclined his head with respect. "My tutor to the Radiant Chronicles among other things. Welcome and thank you for joining me in this Great Work. While your respect is required in public, please do not hesitate to come to me in private if you feel as though I am making faux pas or missing important nuance. You will be my counselor as well. Pater."

With another nod, he went to greet and speak to his team, individually or as small groups depending on how they had arrayed themselves.

For his time-traveling companions, a secret smile; there were ineffable experiences they shared. He was glad they would be supporting him in this important mission.

By the time his husband and brother-in-law arrived, he had spoken to most of them, even smiling to the odd servus or other. The fact that he came from humble origins and had climbed basically into their God's lap had been spun into stories that might one day become legendary. And now, strangely, this all felt right. He had won Arvælyn's heart, Aværys' grace, and the approbation of the Crownwyrm. Respect was owed, at least in Solunarium, and his whims and words carried weight.

There was responsibility in that.

He bowed appropriately to his royal husband and his superior within the Sentinels.

"All is in readiness, Your Exalted Highness. Your Serene Highness. I look forward to meeting your platinum cousin, and save Ecith from itself. Loose me at your will, an arrow into the heart of darkness. I stand ready."

A clever slip of arcane melody reached out from his symphony to that of his beloved.

Kiss me. Neither command nor request, and perhaps both. It would be a sweet button on the moment before he turned and strode through the portal that had been opened to Drathera. He could already feel how it was connected; returning on his own would be no problem.

[Pharaoh]

The young Vastian glanced up making only a split second’s eye contact, before his gaze found the floor.

“Your Grace.” Ramses muttered in a breathy tenor. “I am honored to embark upon this perilous pilgrimage in your illustrious service. His Serene Highness the Princeps Pontifex lauds your name.”

“His name is alright,” Arkænyn inserted himself sneakily, “Albeit monosyllabic. If you really want something worthy of plaudits, pray that he’ll favour us with a song.”

“Your Serene Starlit Highness!” The priest dropped to one knee, eliciting a smirk from said prince.

“You can tell he’s a Luxian. I have a bit of a reputation there, you know. Ah…” He paused and returned to Phædreon’s side as the Moonborn and the Dragonborn entered.

“Almost all.” Phocion countered to Finn, “But if I might offer a gentle correction, there is one matter of outstanding business. Your Exalted Highness?”

“Kneel, Finn Farstrider.” The Princeps Draconum instructed coolly, shirking for the moment, the impulse to kiss him as he withdrew an ancient blade. The black sword inlaid with pulsing crimson magic perked Phædreon’s brow. He whispered to Arkænyn:

“That is my grandsire’s blade! That is ‘Vindicator’!”

“Here before the eyes of princes and peasants, beneath the unfaltering gaze of the Founders, I do invoke the power vested in me by His Exalted Majesty Zalkyriax Zalkyrialis: Rex Draconum, Vigilæ Vulcani et Pater Atraxiæ. By his Exalted will do I hereby create a vassal where once was a subject.” Arvælyn touched Vindicator to Finn’s shoulder,

“Finn Farstrider of the Kalzasern holdstate, I create thee, beloved of Our Lord: Amadeus Viator Finn, paterfamilias of Gens Viator and henceforth a hereditary Duke of Vastium. The lands lent you at the behest of the Crown are now thine and your house is owed a seat in the Senatus Minor, shouldst thou desire to exert that right. Rise in glory, Finn of House Viator.” And, at the last, he obliged Finn his coveted kiss.

[Finn]

Arkænyn had the right to tease him; thrall or not, they had been through the crucible together. Finn was confident that he would act appropriately when it counted. They all did once the Umbrian princes arrived.

An eyebrow rose at Phocion's correction; he was used to them by now, grateful that they tended to be gentle while also to the point. Phocion had been a great help in becoming more Solunarian or, at least, coexisting successfully with Vastian humans and Re'hyæn elves.

Arvælyn didn't need the Rune of Command. At his word, Finn knelt before him.

At the sight of Vindicator, he couldn't help but remember Halcyon, borne by another version of Vrædyn's father, Arkænyn's brother, in the name of another Aværys. It sang to him, though not, he imagined with an audible voice or the Rune whose practitioners described as musical.

There was a moment of confusion. Bearing it to Ecith would seem too warlike, but no, Arvælyn had something else in mind. Finn's eyes widened. He had considered officially creating a gens, binding himself more legally to the realm. It hadn't mattered so much when he was merely prince-consort, but now his own family was here. There ought to be some legacy for them.

It was overwhelming, but he rose on unfaltering feet.

He couldn't take undue advantage of a public kiss, but he whispered, just for Arvælyn's lovely ear: "Amadraconis would have been too on the nose?"

When Arvælyn bid him turn around and present himself, some faces were surprised, most happy. He heard Lystreia's cheer pinging over the others; that vocal training, though.

Finn couldn't see it, but he could feel a bit of burn to his cheeks, and he couldn't see the crown of Aværys light upon his brow, though the glow suffused his vision. A ducal paterfamilias might not be so great an ambition as the God could desire, but for a nameless boy from a nameless hamlet, it was far more than he had ever imagined for himself, and it certainly codified a place for his family when he was dead and gone. Few men could say they had accomplished such a thing for themselves and their descendants, though if he had no progeny of his own, he would have to adopt one of Morgaine's or, eventually, Ciarán's.

He raised his hand, accepting plaudits as his due.

"Thank you, Your Exalted Highness."

Finn didn't have a speech prepared, and the Great Work awaited through the portal. His thanks were sincere, though, and Arvælyn already had several oaths from his amadraconis. His freshly appointed legatus—soon, by the grace of Aværys, præfectus—awaited only his command to depart the jewel of the Expanse.

[Pharaoh]

Arvælyn smiled, though faintly— perhaps owing to this being a formal sendoff. He might have still been in the zone after conferring a new title.

“With the Gods and Them alone I suffer to share you.” The Dragonborn replied softly, with a dark glance to Arkænyn that quickly darted back to Finn, “And Amadeus is far less clunky, besides.” Stepping back, Arvælyn raised his voice for all to hear.

“Serve well the Draconic Crown and this shall not be the last of the honours steeped upon your number. Be ye all exemplars of our way of life that the wayward Commonwealth might learn its due place in the foundations of our puissant pyramid.

“I hereby formally grant your party leave to bypass the legal restrictions upon travel to the Ecithian Commonwealth. You depart with the consent of the Crown. May the Founders guide your steps and actions.”

Arkænyn pulled the sentinel hood and veil over his platinum hair and fair face. Even his violet eyes were shadowed from view, leaving his long lanky form as the sole identifying factor albeit swimming in flowing formal robes. Phædreon and several other members of the part followed suit as they he group lined up to await their turn to traverse the portal and embark upon the hitherto forbidden realm of Ecith.

Another figure, similar in build and identical in Sentinel dress stepped into the room and joined the gathering. Phocion stepped over to whisper something to the newcomer, who nodded, before joining the queue as Phocion returned to the Crown Prince’s side.

Arvælyn set his jaw and Phocion leaned close to whisper,

“He will be but a portal away.”

[Finn]

Finn didn't hide things from Arvælyn. Thankfully, Arkænyn had suffered nothing worse than dark looks. The strange knots that echos of other Finns, other Arkænyns, and other relationships had left tangled between this pair were unlikely to be unraveled, but as he didn't hide things from his husband, his husband could read no intent to cut through those knots with his 'blade.'

Finn loved Arkænyn now, but he would not seduce his platinum knight. Likely, there would be ballads about heartbreaking courtly love eventually.

It was Arvælyn from whom he had to tear his gaze after nodding at the royal permissions.

If he noted the last-minute addition to his retinue, he made no mention of it.

There had been some discussion about the order of the queue through the portal, whether he ought to go first as the face of this embassy, or whether that was a mistake from a security standpoint. His position had been that the risk was justified, though unlikely given this embassy had been invited. Finn first was a show of trust, an olive branch.

In any case, the tingle and other strange, subtler feelings he felt as he passed through the portal were old hats to a viator who was now paterfamilias of gens Viator. The dry heat of Atraxia gave way to the wet heat of the Commonwealth's jungles. Thankfully, all uniforms and clothes had been enchanted for comfort. He didn't perspire, though the air clung to him. He wasn't sure what to expect, whether they would be greeted and shown to a temporary embassy, or left to their own devices.

One never knew with Ecith.

But as he was at the apex of this particular pyramid, it would fall to him to see his people housed and to claim a more permanent embassy. With all the power he had earned or been given, his responsibilities had grown, too.

He would react to whatever pomp and circumstance awaited, see his people settled, and then seek out Alikhandrian if the dragon didn't seek him out first.

[Pharaoh]

They stepped from hard tile onto a cushioned carpet of verdant moss. Surrounded by trees and vibrant floral plants, they might have thought themselves deposited into a remote stretch of rainforest at first, but an upward glance would reveal a structure surrounded them: this was a courtyard. Arrayed around them were Solunarian servants, mostly half-elven or human. The only exception in this welcome party was the tall, slender Platinum elf with Draconic wings and violet eyes. In starlit blistering white regalia with gold-hued armour accents, the figure inclined his head.

“I am Alikhandrian. Welcome to Provincia Ecithia.” The elf-seeming dragon smirked as he lifted his violet gaze to inspect the human at the head of the party. His eyes fixed upon Finn’s Radiant Crown for a moment before resting upon his eyes.

“…or so it was called in the era of my hatching.” He paused,

“We arranged for you to arrive without fanfare in advance of your official reception by the local officials. I was told you had want of a dragon’s guidance and did volunteer to assume that role.” Alikhandrian gestured broadly.

“The staff will see you all to your places of lodging within the villa. Your personal effects have been situated in your assigned rooms. When you are situated to your comfort, meet me in the great hall. Come hungry if you can stomach Orkish cuisine and sated if you cannot, for they will likely provide a banquet. The staff will see to your needs.

“Finn Dux, I await your briefing as to my function in all of this.”

[Finn]

Finn's gaze found the dragon incognito like a compass finding north. A small smile acknowledged the elf-seeming dragon. While abiding in the deserts of Ecith, he had learned that duality was a part of the culture in a way that it wasn't elsewhere. Two Gods, two Thrones, two ruling races. He had come to believe that it was only his pairing with Arvælyn that had allowed him to survive his own transformation. It was through partnership with Phocion that he was able to become a Sentinel in fact instead of merely in name. Even Aværys was a partner Who balanced him.

Here, he believed, Alikhandrian would be his balance.

As he approached, he offered a shallow bow of respect for this member of the platinum dragonflight, though he had to be mindful of his own majesty lest his embassy see Alikhandrian as its true leader. Finn was here with imperium granted by the Crownwyrm himself, but Finn would hesitate to take any action this dragon ardently opposed.

"Salve, Alikhandrian of Verkágos."

His leadership style wanted him to see to the billeting of his people before he saw to his own, but he knew he had to delegate if he was going to get anything done here.

"May it one day soon be so called again." Legatus by royal appointment, his task was to make of himself a præfectas. A monumental task, but so were the tasks of the magnati.

"If you would forgive me my human haste, please accompany me and I will brief you." He glanced hither and thither, saw Ramses and divers others being taken in hand and led away. Catching Lystreia's eyes, he made a small gesture that she silently acknowledged and went to prepare herself. He couldn't catch Phædreon's errant gaze, but the chronomancer would be where he would be when he chose to be there. He knew that much now.

Arkænyn, though, fell in with him as he followed an unctuous servus. He felt safer for that beloved platinum blade at his back.

"His Exalted Majesty, the Crownwyrm Zalkyriax, has tasked me with reclaiming what was lost: Provincia Ecithia. I am neither Re'hyæn nor Dragon, though bound to both by sacred oaths. I was not raised in the faith of Solunarium, but I am claimed by its Deus Pater. I am honored enough to be accepted as legatus without being a player with enough power to be seen as what I am: the vanguard. I am the high-handed enemy, Her Argent Luminescence's needle in the dark. But while I am confident in my abilities, I am not a dragon and if I am to woo the Ecithian dragonflights to the Platinum Path, I will need a draconic advisor."

Vitalio, a servus who saw to his attire—and whose competence might lead to his promotion now that Finn had households of his own, both here and in Solunarium—came out of a door moments before their guide led them through it. In that communication among the serving class that seemed faster than the faint thought-songs he could sense moving along fungal blooms, it seemed Vitalio had been informed of what was to come and how best to gird his master's loins.

Finn continued as Vitalio and a couple helpers helped him quick-change their master.

"I am as up to date on matters Dratheran as I can be with short notice." He wondered briefly if Arkænyn was enjoying the view, or if, for him, the resonances of romances across countless timelines had faded into the white noise of life. It was probably best for Arkænyn if they did. Finn didn't wish the faint, confusing ache always in his heart.

"As a member of the Custodes Deorum, I am particularly concerned about reports of possible corruption among the Orkhan Trinity, and whether such corruption plagues the Ecithian dragonflights as well. Regardless, I will also have to learn how to treat with these dragons as nigh equals. The right desire to bend the knee before your kin cannot be allowed to weaken the Crownwyrm's embassy merely because His Exalted Majesty chose a human legatus."

There were plenty of tales that included jollier dragons than those he had found housed in Mount Sorokyn, but he didn't know what to expect of those Ecithian dragons who maintained any sort of political power in Drathera.

"For today, however," he waved away Vitalio and the looking-glass. He had delegated his appearance to the servus and was going to trust him. It was the dragon who had his attention now. "For today, I would like to know if there will be dragons among the guests of the banquet and how best to prepare to speak to them."

Being devoted to Arvælyn had seemed to win Zalkyriax over, and being useful, per his advice, had maintained Arvælyn's love. Otherwise, he wasn't certain how to befriend a dragon.

Ready now, he would continue the briefing here or accompany Alikhandrian to the great hall. He was not starving, but it had been some time since he had broken his fast. It was his hope that there were some similarities between the cuisine of the Orkhan of Ecith and the Orkhan of Kazasi. There were a few nostalgic bites over which he could delight and, perhaps, please his Orkhan hosts.