Blood Quantum

[Hekatos]

Blood Quantum

1st of Frost, 124th Year of the Age of Steel

A compulsion drove Tyrann's servant that morning, although it was subtle and neither of them noticed anything untoward even as they accepted a small envelope and brought it directly to the tidal ambassador. The face and form of the person who had delivered it was lost beyond recall as soon as the door was closed behind them, and the servant forgot the envelope as soon as they left the room. A gentle compulsion bade Tyrann open it immediately, as well.

Inside were a key and a letter.

The former was black wrought iron, its bow decorated with glittering gems too dark to be ruby and yet a jeweler would identify them thus.

The latter was fine paper with elegant script, the ink, upon closer inspection a red so dark as to be black.

It read:


Esteemed Envoy,

We, the Aimatiká, live remotely but even here we have heard tell of a far-flung branch of the Sol'Miaren line returned to the capital. We are primarily historians and archivists and, perhaps, not the most scintillating of conversationalists, however, we would like to invite you to dine with us this evening.

We dine at dusk and should you wish to join us, simply turn the enclosed key with intention and a portal shall open. You are welcome to join us earlier and at your leisure as well.

Cordially yours,
Haera Val'Istra
Abbess, Monastery of Saint Velitar

[Tyrann Xekourassi]

Having spent the night in Caerulia, Tyrann returned to a watery chamber at the embassy that morning. While he was able to Traverse from water to land, he typically did so for an audience. With none to be awed by the spectacle, it was easier and more comfortable to travel between like environments. He stepped through the barrier that separated the two halves of the great hall, using his Elementalism to keep him from carrying too much stowaway water on his person as his foot fell upon cold, dry tile. Shivering slightly, he glanced up to find himself face to face with a servant extending a missive toward his person with a bow.

"Hm." Typically he would have had time to settle in and would ask to receive all his mail at once, but he took the alacrity for urgency and felt his nerves rising as he accepted the envelope and found it heavier than he'd anticipated. He opened it and produced, first, the key. He turned it before his eyes to inspect it from all angles, before looking to the letter and reading.

"Mm. Reschedule my dinner with the gem merchant. A more intriguing invitation has emerged." His nerves did not recede, even if the letter seemed, on its surface, more benign than it might have. It bore no outright ill-tidings, but it did touch on a delicate matter and he was very much at a disadvantage.

"Find me information on..." He glanced back down at the letter, "'The Aimatiká'. Any and everything that can be found on short notice." He ordered, in hopes of diminishing the scope of his disadvantage.

After poring over whatever was found over his afternoon tea, Tyrann would exercise, rest and then ready himself for the evening ere dusk was upon him. He dressed after a fashion that would be deemed acceptable at a formal dinner, while highlighting more of his otherness than his ties to the local culture. The colouring of his gleaming, metallic regalia evoked the sea. In truth, at home the garment wouldn't have turned any eyes at all, for it would have served as camouflage, but here in the open air it was quite eye-catching indeed.

"To me." He gestured toward a pair of honour guardsmen, in understated armour that still fit his colour palette. They moved to flank him, he inspected their uniforms, nodded and lifted the key, turning it before them.

[Hekatos]

Blood Quantum

From what his servants could gather, the Aimatiká were an ancient monastic lineage that had somehow managed to hide themselves deep in the mountains, protecting elven secrets even from Lysanrin colonizers. They were respected, but understandably distant and aloof. A connection within the royal palace confirmed the validity of the invitation, and so Tyrann and his retinue could be reasonably assured that everything was on the up and up when he turned the key in the air and slumbering magic awoke, creating a brief display of aetheric lines in complicated geometry before coalescing into a portal.

Once they crossed the threshold, the key vibrated and leaped out of his hand, flying much like a dragonfly through the vespertine gardens to alight in the hand of a platinum-haired elf. She had begun to turn from the rose bush she was tending when she felt the portal matrix developing, and caught the key easily, then smiling and stepping forward to greet her guests.

They were high on a rock formation, much like a pillar thrust up from the mountains rather than a mountain itself. The air was thinner, colder, but wild spirits began to swarm around the party, invisible save to summoners and semblers, thickening the air, adding humidity and heat for their comfort. This place was old, and thrummed with power.

"Welcome to Saint Velitar's, Lord Xekourássi of the Surf," she acknowledged with a half-bow, "and friends. I am Haena Val'Istra, abbess of the monastery. I am glad we were able to pique your interest. Supper will be served soon if you brought appetites, although I must admit I am ignorant of a proper Neptori diet. You are welcome to avail yourself of our table, or perhaps I can simply give you a tour and we can attend to each other's curiosities. Few are our guests, but we do honor the rules of hospitality."

The lights of a small village in the valley below were winking on. The monastery itself had roofs still clearly red in the gathering gloaming, its white walls turning the colors of the ambient light. There were clear links between its architecture and some of what Tyrann had seen in Silfanore, but it remained singular.

It might have been older than Caerulia itself.

[Tyrann Xekourassi]

Tyrann stepped through the portal confidently and it took a few steps padded through the twilit garden before his steady gait became a stagger. He paused to steady himself, hearing the grunts of his guards as they reacted to the same phenomenon to an even greater degree. The pair of Tidal Knights actually stumbled together and caught one another to prevent themselves from falling onto the grass.

"Ah..." Tyrann took a few slow breaths, his gills swelling unconsciously as he fixed his eyes on a still point on the ground. In his own language, he indicated that his escort should do the same. After he'd regained enough of his composure, he lifted his gaze to Haena. Perhaps it would be well-recieved that the circumstance had led all of them into a low, albeit graceless, approximation of a bow.

"Apologies. We are not accustomed to sudden changes in altitude and this..." He took in the surrounding vista, "...this appears to be farther above the trenches of Caerulia than we have ever stood." He managed a smile, "Would you mind helping me to the table?" In truth, Tyrann could have managed the minor trek on his own. He was better equipped than his escort, due to both his Coastal blood and his arcane specialisations. But he was also a diplomat who knew that a display of vulnerability could have its benefits and this one, coming as it had off of a genuine moment of unsteadiness, was an opportunity he was not inclined to pass up. If the beautiful abbess wished to extend the requested bit of hospitality to append that which was already being observed, he would take his seat with a gracious smile.

"Once my stomach has found its way back to me, I should love to sample yours fare, My Lady Abbess.." He inclined his head, smiling wryly to the beautiful Hytori hostess.

[Hekatos]

Blood Quantum

"Ah," she lamented. The spirits were correcting the environment for her guests, not surrounding them in bubbles of water, but helping to normalize pressure and the like. "I apologize. Our little friends help with the altitude, but of course it must be more drastic a change for you."

Her eyes looked into his, and she offered her arm at his request. She was strong enough, but stronger monks moved quickly to aid his fellows. They sat at a dark, polished trestle table. There were many in the dining hall, though the others were empty. Once they were seated comfortably, the monks went to fetch water fresh from mountain springs, dark bread, and rich butter. It was a simple appetizer, laid out to ease them into nourishment should their stomachs and their palates so desire it.

"From the depths of the sea to the tops of the mountains," she mused. "Our empire is not so boundless as it was, but the Hytori and our cousins have ignored many an earthly boundary. What brought you out from the waves, may I ask? Curiosity? Duty? Adventure?"

Haena smiled to the monks, then nodded a polite dismissal. They went back to helping prepare the meal in the adjoining kitchens, and she poured water, at least, for the envoy and his entourage. For her part, she wasted no time in drinking some water; even used to the altitude and thin air, she was cognizant of her body's needs and it needed more water here than it did in the hall of her father.

Curiosity was evident in her eyes. Her letter had identified her order as one of scholars and historians, and that they lived mostly apart. Perhaps this place was her duty and she longed for adventure.

[Tyrann Xekourassi]

"As you say." Tyrann affirmed, breathing heavily and pausing in places as he spoke on:

"In the air we are but novices, and on land it is rare for us to be out of sight of waterways." In his mind, there was a magic to water that had yet to be defined. The open air felt like emptiness. Even now, this shift in pressure, felt more like something being taken away than something added. The strongest winds he'd ever felt on air could not, as the Landed said, 'hold a candle to' the rush and flow of the tides.

"Thank you." He took her arm and walked very carefully, distrustful of his balance. He made sure to grip both armrests on the chair to steady himself before slowly lowering to a distance at which he could just collapse to the seat without fear of bruising his rump. With a sigh of relief, he settled in and shut his eyes, slowing his breaths as to be lighter.

After a fortifying moment, his eyes snapped open to regard his hostess.

"All of that and more." He replied, "I am given to believe that there are opportunities to be mined amongst the Landed that have long been neglected by we of the waves. Diplomacy, trade... These have long been done only between Neptori. They of the Delta Nation have surfeited on the wealth accrued by acting as middlemen between the sea and the land. My nation, with a population less suited to prolonged periods in the open air, has been rather a captive buyer into this monopoly. Excuse me..." He turned his attention to the water before him and downed it in one gulp, before placing the vessel back down on the table.

"With my position at court and with the physiological advantages of being half Coastal Neptori, I offered myself up as an ambassador to the land. Long did I travel before finding somewhere worthy of my diplomacy, and so here I am; Sating my curiosity whilst performing my duty to the seas on this strange adventure.

"And what is it you occupy yourselves with up here in the thin air?"

[Hekatos]

Blood Quantum

The lady abbess refilled his water as soon as he set the empty vessel down. There were no springs or streams this high up what was literally a tower of stone, but they had cisterns that collected fresh rainwater and so they were never in need of the stuff.

She nodded as she listened, and at one point laughed quietly.

"I suppose we are barely even the Landed here. Our guests arrive by magic unless they are the most adventurous of mountain climbers or those with the gift of Garel Nekromántis. More akin to birds than anything."

As for the rest, "That would seem wisdom to me." She paused. "Saint Velitar was once among the Court of Princes. She sat the throne of the House of the Golden Dragon. Her principality did not survive the Lysanrin holocaust, but we continue the work of her bloodline, which is, by and large, bloodlines. That is why you are of particular interest to us: a seaborne scion of Sol'Miaren. Arsoren: at once a savior, and then the first of the humans. He saved us and then was no longer of us. A hero of tragedy, but not a tragic hero."

She refilled the water of Tyrann's comrades as well, humble enough to serve in her own household.

"We are curious how your people engage with their history, and we might be able to answer questions about your bloodline if you are also curious about such things."

Gradually, their table was laden by simple foods, which they could pick and choose from, and eat from smaller plates.

[Tyrann Xekourassi]

“Some call it wisdom, others hubris, but I shall leave the final determination to the chroniclers.” Tyrann offered with a smirk and a shrug, but settled in to listen to the elaboration on the curious subject of whom had invited him to their altitudinous enclave.

“Ahh…” His shoulders tensed slightly, “I will confess that is not a distinction I have elected to highlight in my current role. I shall, of course, speak honestly on the matter now that it is addressed, but I would be a poor guest to make an issue of ties to my hosts’ predecessors. I would not wish for our intentions to be misconstrued.” He pursed his lips, eyes dancing down to his cup of water.

“I’ve always found it amusing that the last known branch of that line has become so alien to its origins. More ironic is the fact that this is due to their upholding the old ways so diligently. As the land began to change our ancestors and the water called to them, the royal house stood steadfast to its marriage practises to maintain the bloodline. It was magic, not dilution, that altered us. Our erstwhile colony is so old that it was founded before the Boundless Empire shirked its bounds to extend beyond Ransera. But we of the Tidal Nation, whose royal house descended from this place, were isolated by circumstance and then by habit.” He took a few more gulps of water.

“I know what I have been told of our history, but I cannot say I have great faith in all of its veracity. It would please me to hear what your, doubtless more objective, record keepers have to say about the pedigree of him that bore me.”

[Hekatos]

Blood Quantum

"Great stores of knowledge abide, but much has been lost between catastrophes and confinements. In truth, most of the story of your kin submerged with them into the seas. Hence our curiosity. As for veracity, well, even our storytellers are biased.

"I can tell you how bloodlines work, though, with greater exactness. We put great store in them and, certainly, through fate or the arcane, bloodlines can matter as much as all that. You know, about equal parts of your heritage come from each parent, but in most cultures, you must choose one name over the other. Calculating all that over the course of generations, well, that becomes a nightmare of statistical and probabilistic calculation.

"How much of you is the legacy of Tryvic Sol'Marien, King of Tides? About half. How much of you is the legacy of Arsoren Sol'Miaren? Very little, most likely. But I do not mean that to diminish your connection to the bloodline, merely to point out that its meaning is yours for the forging.

"Bloodlines are dynamic things that evolve over the centuries, the millennia. Arsoren's ritual changed his blood and the blood of many elves into human blood.

"The choices of the first Phoenix King changed the world. The choices of your Foréas change the seas." She paused, her smile not unkind. "Your choices. Well, their outcomes remain to be seen, eh?"

Then she gauged how much her guests had eaten, taking some repast for herself as well.

"There is a marvel I would show you if you and yours would give me your word of honor to keep its secret."

[Tyrann Xekourassi]

“You will find your focus on bloodlines far more fixed than mine.” Tyrann offered with a good-natured chuckle,

“My ancestry has been more a matter of vexation than honour. His Majesty’s family has been attentive to such matters and made strides to retain and fortify the blood they deem hallowed. Your records would find more of Arsoren in my siblings than you will in me, and if their character is any indication of his, then your quondam king was a nasty old todger.” He pursed his lips into a grimace.

“Before we migrated to the seas, that side of my pedigree believed themselves to be the last living princes of Sol’Valen. They interbred in an effort to keep the line from going extinct and, by the time we’d fully shifted into a new species, it was established tradition.” They weren’t as strict about it as some cultures, but there were expectations in regard to royal pairings and offspring. Tyrann was culturally the equivalent of what some societies might refer to as a bastard. His perspective on his siblings was largely based on their treating him as such.

He glances to his honour guard and executed a few hand gestures to communicate something to them before nodding to their hostess.

“We would, of course, be honoured to accept such an invitation. Your secrets will be held in the deep trenches of our confidence.” He noted floridly and punctuated the gesture with a bow of his head.

The others in his party still appeared a bit fatigued, but the diplomat himself seemed to have rallied with time and hydration. They were too queasy to indulge in refreshment beyond water, but Tyrann sampled liberally from the assorted offerings.