Far From the Fatherland.

[Eitan Angevin]

"There are protections against magic woven into your uniform, airman," he reminded him, "and the best shields the Order can offer besides." He sighed, pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment. "I can feel it all around us, but I would also feel it if our protections were breached. Have a little faith in Zaichaeri ingenuity and competence, eh?"

Angevin smiled.

"I've got you. And you're welcome to come to dinner. Who even knows what their table manners are like?" That wasn't a read; he was concerned that his own good manners might not translate here.

But he was glad to have Reiner there. If nothing else, he would keep his aplomb, as he would need to maintain it for Reiner's sake. Everything was built to impress; he understood that and was impressed all the same. But if they accomplished this with the help of gods and dragons, Zaichaer would just have to do the same with mere human mettle.

Angevin would have been happier astride a horse or, Mists, even a camel, but at least he could see the sights from the palanquin even if it made him feel like some sort of gouty invalid. The views were, of course, impressive. He hoped that when his own children were grown, the Angevins and Dornkirks weren't quite so enamored of their own luxuries. But even as the new Zaichaer developed into more of a meritocracy, the people did still look up to them and they did still have to be paragons of Zaichaeri virtue up there on those pedestals.

In any case, he was unflappable on the outside if only for the mental well being of his men. On the inside, he was preparing himself as he had for parties when he was younger. The Antirisian orphan who had become a prince of Atraxia would be akin to seeing the son of the old Grand Marshal at a party: more important than him by far, and yet he had to do everything in his power to maintain the dignity of his own father's name as well.

Before long—time moved funnily when he was in anticipation of something—he was there, bowing respectfully without kowtowing like a subject or a slave. Perhaps he had dragons on his mind given their apparently auspicious sighting when they arrived, but Phædryn Sol'Zalkyrion Arvælyn Princeps looked like what he was more than a Kalzasern pidge. The Hytori, at least, were respected in Zaichaer more than any other non-human; after all, theirs had been the Boundless Empire, grander by far than even the grandeur of Solunarium.

And dragons, well, were fucking dragons.

"Your Exalted Highness," he said smoothly. "Thank you for your hospitality. A few years ago, I would have said Gelerian schnapps, but then they made moves to annex the High City when it was laid low and now I can't stomach the stuff. I am in search of a new libation of choice. Perhaps you would be so kind as to choose for me?"

[Pharaoh]

► Show Spoiler

"I do, I do... I've just never been someplace like this before and it's kinda bugging me out. It's like... there's more of them than us here, you know? I've never been someplace where it's like that." Reiner was flushed now, embarrassed that Eitan felt the need to remind him multiple times about the wards he was calling into question. It wasn't that he doubted Eitan's abilities as a warder, but more that he feared the extent and intracy of mage duplicity. Especially the sort of mages who'd been honing their fell craft for countless centuries... probably since before Zaichaer was even founded. The notion made him physically shudder.

"I guess we'll find out soon enough..." Reiner replied with a shrug. It would be better for him to focus on minutiae like table manners, rather than the existential threat of manipulation magic infusing everything and everyone around them.

The Kinetically-conducted palanquin did not help matters. Where his brain anticipated the familiar jostle of a carriage or handsome cab, the ride to the palace was unnervingly smooth. He took deep breaths, closed his eyes and imagined himself on a tiny airship soaring through a windless sky. The breeze through the curtains helped, warm though it was, and ere long they'd reached their destination and were being greeted by a creature he had never seen in his life: A dragonborn.

He might have been an augmented elf to look at him or an animist who'd cherry-picked features from other creatures. As they approached, Reiner would notice that Eitan was taller if you reckoned by the top of their heads, but the Solunarian prince's folded wings towered behind him- framing him like some demonic statue. The cut of his garb, Reiner would note, was more akin to a Zaichaeri suit than the sort of flowing robes and sleek tunics he'd seen throughout the capital thus far.

Arvælyn chuckled at Eitan's answer.

"Well, I am pleased to know that I need not deny you straight away after meeting you, for we do not trade with Gelerand and their taste in spirits has not crept its way this far into the Ecithian Continent." He nodded and without so much as a word or gesture, servi around them sprung to action.

"You will no doubt have your fill of Solunarian stuff, so I've called for an Aurisian vintage I quite fancy. It's like magic what they can do with fermented grapes and yet this vintner manipulates no æther to achieve the result. Please..." He gestured toward the seating area, as servi were already approaching with trays of freshly poured silver chalices of a rich, red wine. Arvælyn collected one and lifted it,

"Welcome."

Meanwhile...

Prædium Danann
Palatine District
Luxium

"Octavian." Drævyn Princeps stepped into the bedchamber where his son was dressing to attend the welcome banquet for the Zaichæri visitors in the Umbrium. "There has been a change of plans. You and Seværys alone will stand as ambassadors of the Luxium tonight. Prince Vrædyn is now otherwise engaged."

Like any self-respecting member of House Sol'Aværys, Drævyn was masterful at concealing his emotions in public, even under great duress. Presently, however, he was not in public and Octavian would see at a glance that his father was in a severe state of vexation and was holding something back.

"I expect you will represent Upper Solunarium with aplomb and portray the halcyon Platinum paragon you were raised to be. Prince Seværys awaits you in the garden." He set his jaw and began to turn away.

[Eitan Angevin]

Eitan did understand how Reiner felt. Even with his wards and those inherent in their uniforms, he knew they must know of his unfortunately mixed heritage and his father's Dratori peccadillo could come back to haunt Zaichaer while he was here representing the Brass City. But the crown prince had spent his formative years in Karnor—granted, the lesser parts—and so might be modern enough to be unbothered by it.

At home, he had proven himself human. If anyone mentioned the baser blood in his veins, it was to marvel at how the seed was strong in dear departed Leir Angevin. Here, though, he didn't know.

His smile for the prince was urbane and not without sincerity. He had unsubstantiated evidence that an 'Arvalyn Val'Cithaeron' had been in attendance at the wedding of Talon Novalys and his draconic bridegroom, but Angevin's network of spies in Kalzasi remained limited. He was gambling just being here, but Zaichaer needed to keep swinging big if it was going to survive surrounded by Powers with greater means and resources.

"Delightful," he declared the prospect of Aurisian wine. "Gelerand does like to get its greasy hands on everything. Eternal vigilance is required."

He quickly introduced his compatriots for the prince's benefit; they had been briefed to be polite, to engage per the prince's preferences, but also be prepared to be ignored if he saw them as beneath his exalted notice. They were the strangers, after all.

Since returning from the Zonam Mysterium, Hybris Octavius Princeps of gens Danaan-Sol'Aværys had not been idle. There was a throne without a permanent royal arse in residence, and with Arkænyn out of the way, he knew he would be considered. Still young, much of his power was yet potential.

Of course, he was grateful to the powers that had come to tip the scales between his camp and that of those who had been co-opted by powers he was not at liberty to discuss, but he did not want to require such aid again. If anything, he wanted to be the prince who came to the aid of his people even so far from the throne.

While he had regained some substance since returning to where meals were regular and more energy was spent honing skills than using them to keep the darkness at bay, no baby fat had returned to his cheeks. Still young in years, there was something of the tempered blade to him now. He had allowed himself a short while to recover, but had quickly returned to his duties as well as his training, demanding more of himself now than Ilaria ever had.

Those chains of loyalty that had been forged in fire, he maintained. Aneurin was sworn to him now, and he had offered Tiseus and all the others what he could as his father's son without making his father himself responsible for anything. Octavian was a man now, and had to develop his own base of power. There was an empty throne, but there was also the mantle of paterfamilias that would one day require a new man. Eighth in line chronologically, he did not intend to be eighth in line when it came to his father's respect.

Drævyn, for better or worse, was the template against which he judged all other potentates.

It was Drævyn who appeared in his bed chamber after he had waved the servi away in order to give himself a critical eye and make any necessary adjustments. He stood, if possible, straighter.

"Ita, pater," he responded without hesitation. But something was wrong. The pause seemed pregnant, but his father began to turn away. "Have I erred?"

[Pharaoh]

"I will admit I am pleasantly surprised to note your apparent animosity toward the Imperium. I understand you share certain cultural connections and a common tongue, but I see there was no love lost after your recent misfortunes." Arvælyn perched at the edge of a high-backed chair, upholstered in complementary colours and pattern to everything else in the well-appointed, if ornately decorated, chamber.

"Distance has lent us ambivalence toward them until recently, but they executed a hostile move toward us a few years ago that has soured our indifference into contempt." Arcas was a loaded issue for any of them, and not a name he would invoke lightly in present company. Solunarium's relationship with the demi-deity was complex. Once their arch-bogeyman, he had been instrumental in liberating the Founders he'd hitherto imprisoned, and the Dual Deities of Solunarium had softened their hardline against him. Not wishing to get into the meat of that matter with the Zaichæri envoy, he moved on.

"What, may I ask, is the primary motivation for your visit? Trade, curiosity, something else?" He took a delicate sip of his wine, relishing the slight tickle of its subtle herbal infusion upon his tongue.

Drævyn halted his gait with a wince and slowly turned his head to the side to glance over his shoulder.

"In my reckoning, Octavian, it is the conclave that has erred. But you've a duty to execute all the same in the Umbrium. Focus upon that and we will speak more of this when you return." And with that, he departed quickly enough to leave no space for a follow-up.

Seværys would be found crouching beside a shrub with his hand extended toward its branches. As he drew closer, Octavian would see a large praying mantis perched upon his outstretched palm, looking up at him with ostensible curiosity.

"I've never seen one of these in the Prædium Astræon." He observed, as he noticed Octavian's approach. "How fare you, coz?"

[Eitan Angevin]

"The enemy of my enemy is my friend," he offered with a smile.

"Be that as it may, my reasoning is none so smarmy. I don't expect goodwill merely due to a common threat. Certainly, they have eyes on our lands and other lands besides. First, we are reciprocating the gesture out of the desert. A Solunarian envoy came to Zaichaer ere the rift tore our skies and the new moon blotted out the sun. We are merely late in returning the favor due to those unforeseen circumstances. Second, all of the above, truly.

"Few are the Zaichaeri who can claim to have seen the Jewel of Atraxia. And while jewels are not our replacement for the aven, certainly trade is the lifeblood of any nation. We have severed ties with the Guild of Coins. They claim political neutrality, yet the spiders pull their strings from Cathena and we have seen Gelerand attempting to control the economy of Karnor as well as Vaelarand in part with the help of the Guild. 'Each coin blessed personally be Avenna,'" he quoted with a sneer of distaste that required a sip of the Aurisian wine to banish.

"We do not wish artefacts of a Cathenian deity pumping through our people's purses and pockets. This wine for Auris, however..." He took another appreciative sip. "We could do with more of that flowing into our cups in Zaichaer."

Octavian had learned not to speak to his father's back. While he was not yet a full player in the game, he knew the simple arithmetic of politics. If his father had not made the matter entirely explicit, his son understood. Many and more words wanted to be said, but he was still his father's creature and so he swallowed them. It ached. It tasted of ashes. It tasted of some of the things they ate in the Zonam Mysterium to survive.

He beckoned a serva.

"Send word to Phocion Vigilia that I would like to meet at his earliest convenience." If there was a slight creak in his voice, it was gone before the sentence ended.

Barely was the command complete when he was striding confidently from his private chambers toward the gardens. He couldn't be certain, but it was possible to infer from what his father had said that Seværys might have received similar news from his mother. They were all of them at least nominally in competition for the throne; in Octavian's reckoning, he ought to edge his cousin out due to his platinum countenance, a mark of favor from their Gods, no doubt.

His smile was sincere enough, though; he liked Seværys, which was not something he could say of all his kin.

Octavian's eyes narrowed on the mantis. He tried to remember if he had ever seen one in the gardens or merely read about them, seen them in educational menageries. Today, he wondered if it weren't some message from those who lived in the Zonam Mysterium's ruins.

Well, he was already making an appointment with the leader of the Custodes Deorum.

"You make friends wherever you go, Sev... I don't know that you should make it your plus-one tonight, though."

[Arvælyn]

"Perhaps..." Arvælyn conceded, "But then you know that we are friendly with your foremost foe. My husband was raised in Kalzasi, and I spent formative years there... even attended the debacle of Prince Talon's wedding. Has Karnor changed so much in my absence that you deem Gelerand the greater threat to Zaichæri restoration?" Cocking an eyebrow, he searched Eitan's face for any insight his words might bely, albeit relying upon his natural acumen rather than his preternatural Craft.

He smiled, nodding at the mention of economic and mercantile interests.

"We were never subject to the Guild of Coins for that very reason. Market manipulation from foreign agents is not something we were keen to curry, and so our economy remains our own and we are selective with our trading partners. That said, you've come to us at a good time..." He paused to take a sip.

The serva bowed and moved apace to see Octavian's message delivered to the Argent Prætorium in the city below.

Seværys' glance did not linger long on Octavian, darting back to the insect quickly as it seemed to dance, swaying on four of its legs as it tilted its head this way and that.

"It looks like it's trying to talk to me. It is moments like these I wish I'd taken my Mesmer Rune already, but alas..." He extended his hand back toward the shrub and urged the insect back to the greenery. He chuckled at Octavian's jest.

"Quite right, coz. I would not wish for the Umbrium to take umbrage with a last minute addition to our party." He rose from his crouch, and his garments would smoothe themselves out, dismissing any errant wrinkles left in the fabric by his prior position. He may not have been a Mesmer, yet, but the heir to the martial house was a capable Kineticist.

"But you didn't answer me when I asked how you fare... should I take that for an answer in itself?" He looked concerned, as he tilted his head, not unlike his mantis friend, to regard Octavian.

[Eitan Angevin]

According to Angevin's sources, the prince's husband had been raised in a village within Kalzasi's sphere of influence, and the prince himself had been raised in Antiris, but he wasn't sure about the latter detail. Both men had been common, and the trails of common people were often subtler than those whose fame or fortune left more indelible impressions—and actual documentation. He kept those to himself, however; he didn't know this prince well enough to ascertain whether he would be more impressed by due diligence or more offended to be a subject of inquiry.

"From what I understand, the Solunarian government sent an envoy to Kalzasi at the same time as Zaichaer, which seems only practical to me. I am not here to ask you to make war upon your erstwhile home, but to open up what I hope to be an ongoing dialogue. If Solunarium and Zaichaer cannot be friends, then at least we might have channels to keep the peace when parts of the world erupt into chaos.

"As for Gelerand, it has always been a greater power than Kalzasi. We have seen now, however, that they would as soon annex us as anything, and that is not our desire."

Angevin nodded his agreement as Arvælyn expounded upon Solunarian economic policy.

"That is one more aspect of our governments that I have found to be in accord. There are many that might divide us and they are obvious; but there are at least as many points upon which we agree. It is my hope that a focus upon those might lead to mutually beneficial arrangements."

After a thoughtful sip of wine, "The First Minister has achieved a friendlier détente with Kalzasi than the pre-Eclipse government through back channel negotiations. No war is in the best interest of Zaichaer at the moment, except perhaps hostilities between Gel'Grandal and Drathera." He shrugged. "We shan't waste resources encouraging that when they already glare at each other from across the sea. For now, we are investing in domestic growth and with our nearer allies, and opening channels with potential friends farther afield."

"His golden loveliness charmed even the insects out of the brush," Octavian said with a mocking lilt to his voice, but no malice.

There was a greater-than-zero chance he would stroll through this part of the garden again before bed. While he wouldn't admit to anyone that such a childish fancy as a tiny messenger from below had crossed his mind, stranger things had happened. If only Tiseus were here, alas.

His pale gaze considered how to answer the question that wouldn't remain deflected.

"I fare well enough, I suppose. As ever, there is much to absorb, and I am with you: there are many moments wherein I wish I had already mastered this or that rune." Between Kenetics and Negation, he was well prepared for battle, and yet he was not in the Golden Guard. Looking back, he couldn't recall clearly whether he had been urged in that direction or the decisions had been his.

Another reason for Mesmer or, at least, Semblance.

"Shall we away? We oughtn't to give the Umbrium an opportunity to call us unconscionably late."

[Arvælyn]

"You are correct, of course. As the realm emerged from its isolation, we... or I should say my predecessors, as I had not yet claimed my current place, sent envoys to both cities. Kalzasi, having been less embattled at the time and over the past few years, was able to make inroads that Zaichær, for entirely understandabler easons, did not. As yet." Arvælyn added, for good measure.

"Indeed." The prince nodded at the admiral's observation that the Imperium was a more formidable, albeit a more distant, threat than Kalzasi. "It may be impolitic of me to state this without knowing you better, but I am honestly surprised that the Imperium has survived this long intact without a coalition being forged of its sundry nemeses to hamper and to humble it. We shall see for how longer their war with the Commonwealth remains cold." He mused, before taking a sip of the Aurisian wine.

"At any rate, Solunarium is beginning to dabble in the sciences to complement our eldritch concerns. For this reason, you've come at a prime moment to talk trade. Though, perhaps, we should wait for the Luxians to get down to that sort of business. I am told yours is a family of great historical prominence in Zaichær. Is this so?"

"Nonsense. It was I who was charmed. The mantis made the first overture through the medium of interpretive dance. I only sought to mine what wisdom she might impart." Seværys demured, playfully.

"Well, I suppose we will have more time to hone our talents, now that we have both been passed over for the Crown." The Astræon heir was not the sort to deliver news of such gravity so whimsically. It was clear he assumed Octavian had already been made aware, as he had been within an hour of the decision's being rendered.

"I hope you are as relieved as I am. I prefer to lead troops over subjects." He nodded, "Your father told me the Traverser awaits us in the conservatory, if you're ready..."

[Eitan Angevin]

"If you are impolitic, then it only means we have developed a bit of a rapport already," he said with a smile and a raised glass. "I hope.

"In any case, I would agree with your assessment. They are at times remarkably insular, which I would like to encourage, and occasionally they rattle their sabers or... assassinate a sitting shokaze. For a long time, we have managed to maintain pleasant relations with them. A reductive, but perhaps helpful, analysis of Karnor is that the axis of Zaichaer-Haqs-Satesoria-Kathiid maintained a balance of power with the axis of Kalzasi-Antiris-Shemashk-Zeraphesh based on ideology. That prevents Karnor for unifying against Gelerand. The Dratori of Dalquia seem disinclined to seek more territory, and the Sangen Federation cannot challenge them.

"Thus, they have a buffer between themselves and Auris and Cathena and Sol'Valen. I suppose the Commonwealth is a buffer between them and Solunarium. I'm unaware of any blowback from Atraxia's forays into Karnor's diplomatic circles, and there is an inherent risk in our being here, but... well, to be entirely impolitic: fuck 'em."

Another contemplative sip of his wine complemented the worlds spooled out by the crown prince. Angevin was nodding by the time he spoke, indicating Reiner.

"Lieutenant Dornkirk's cousin is one of our foremost engineers. When he develops a new airship or similar, we just don't tell him that he's an artificer." He smiled and shrugged; on the one hand, he understood the atavistic reaction to the numinous that was inherently Zaichaeri, but on the other hand, he had submitted to the corruption of his soul for the good of his people. Whether it was force of will and personality or some other variable that had saved him from madness despite his mastery of the Rune, he knew that there was a careful path a man could walk in order that he master magic and not be mastered by the same.

"And... well... there were Angevin kings and queens ere Zaichaer's more modern state. My late father liked to joke about it. We are working toward a meritocracy, but now that I am a father, I can understand a man's desire to ensure that his children are as meritorious as possible."

"Well, I shan't discredit your taste in ladies," he replied, gently droll.

His smile wasn't false, but behind it, he was wondering what the future would hold. If the Pontifex would not be joining them, then perhaps he was to be their Luxian king. Octavian liked him, for whatever that was worth when it came to politics. But Thayla had proven unstable after such a long period of stability. Arkænyn might have been an excellent monarch if he had been raised to it, but alas, he had proven a brat prince.

Octavian didn't want to look askance at an entire bloodline that stemmed from the Founders, but he thought that perhaps they needed a generation or two in order to sort out their mess. But it wasn't his place to say anything; not yet.

If his smile went a bit grim, it was merited. With a nod, he accompanied Seværys toward the conservatory.

Octavian was young. He would hone his skills, fully embody the power the Princeps Sibylla sensed in him, make the Gods notice him if necessary, and he would succeed Vrædyn when the time came. And Seværys would lead his golden legions.

[Arvælyn]

"Far be it from me to dash such humble hopes." Arvælyn replied with a faint but earnest smile. "One must wonder about the purpose of their abduction of Prince Talon. They took him on, washed is brain too poorly to stick, and sent him here to... as far as we can tell, create unspecified chaos, which he scarcely achieved before being mitigated. It occurs to me that another of our cultural commonalities, Admiral, is that we are both societies that acknowledge the existence of a great pantheon of deities, but reject the perfunctory worship of beings for the sake of their power alone. We are merely atheistic toward two fewer Gods than you." His earnest smile became a wry smirk.

Reiner shifted in his seat at being acknowledged, squirming slightly under the unsettling volcanic gaze of the dragonborn prince. They were predator's eyes, and the lieutenant felt off his apex in present company.

"There is no such thing as a perfect form of government, but royalty has developed in so many disparate cultures it seems almost natural. Why, even insects have their queens from time to time..." He noted, with a jovial lilt, but his eyes darted from the guests to the approaching herald, who orated broadly in the Common tongue.

"His Starlit Highness, Hybris Danann-Sol’Aværys Octavius Princeps and His Serene Highness Castor Astræon-Sol’Aværys Seværys Princeps." The herald stepped aside to present the princely pair that had just portalled into an adjoining room and were now stepping into this one.

Arvælyn rose from his seat to incline his head to each in turn.

"Your Highnesses of the Luxium, permit me to present the Zaichæri envoy, led by His Excellency, Admiral Eitan Angevin, Vigil Magnus of the Order of Reconciliation." He gestured to Eitan, and Seværys bowed modestly.

"Your Excellency, we are honoured to make your acquaintance."