Command Performance

[Arvælyn]

"Well, knowledge is power in itself, so we can start there." Arvælyn noted, as a servus approached him with an unasked-for pad and pen. He quickly scribbled a note, tore the page off, folded it and handed it back to the waiting servant.

"I've little doubt there is at least one Rune you'll be able to brook. The dangers can be overstated when it comes to some of the Cardinal Runes. A sort of elitism, I should think, but one of the few forms thereof that is not widely practised in Solunarium, where magic-use is encouraged. A risk worth taking." He returned his attention to his soup course, taking a few formidible bites followed by a few shallower sips.

"Aye, there will always be enemies to exploit but, as you suggest, such a focus creates rather a... tidal trend. Order ebbing and chaos flows and vice versa. The Solunarian use of magical fortification to our concept of order keeps things stabler more consistently, even as external factors see the waning and waxing of chaotic elements. We do not let the pendulum swing on its own momentum alone, if that makes sense, and are the happier for it. I do not think Finn fancies the notion as much as I, so I wonder at your opinion..." He mused, glancing up from his goblet with a faint smile.

"You are an acting senator from an ennobled gens, set apart for your foreignness and rarer still for having been upjumped in spite of it. Humble background aside, you are set apart here and in ways that offer more boons than blights for the moment. Though I said I would not evangelise, I would suggest that you adopt the Aværyan virtue of Ambition rather than living in the shadow of your older brother, just because he's eked out a name for himself in hallowed circles. He had a head start, after all. He was no Chosen of Aværys when he was your age and, now that he is, you are better positioned to meet or exceed him when you reach his present age." He sat back and allowed the servants to remove his soup bowl, replacing it with the salad course.

"Or, perhaps, you take comfort in humility and welcome the cool shade of Finn's growing umbra. I do not know you well enough to ken... Not yet."

[Finn]

Those Viator eyes followed the paper as it entered, took down Arry's thoughts, and departed. Just like that, royal will was enacted. Morgaine had warned him he was going to get fat if he ate like he did when the tables of Solunarium were laden heavy with more food than they could possibly eat. If he was occasionally a bit gluttonous, he balanced it out. Tonight, he was keeping up with his host's appetite.

"I don't like the idea of people meddling with my thoughts," he admitted. "I mean, I can see it as a tool to... I don't know, reform a rapist or a murderer, but if I follow the rules, I feel like I ought to be king of my own mind, at least. For those of us who have little, our own minds are... well, sometimes all we have. I know that all governments propagandize, though, with or without magic... I just read about the coup in Cathena that was arranged by agents of a queen of Sol'Valen... even foreign agents will use magic or propaganda to control people's thoughts to effect change..."

He set his soup spoon down carefully, then spread his hands.

"The more I learn, the more I learn that everything is more complex than I imagined... and I imagined it was complex. And perhaps my thoughts were only my own because I was a person of no importance who lived somewhere unimportant." He sighed and, for a moment, looked quite a bit like Finn had when reality chipped away another piece of his hope to replace with something harder that used the same name and said it was the same thing.

Soup gave way to salad. He looked at his hands for a moment as if there were an answer to be found there, then he smiled sheepishly at Arry.

"I might learn Ambition," he admitted, "once all this finally starts to feel real. I don't want to be dominated... subjugated... but what I want might not... be reality."

[Arvælyn]

"No one likes the idea of people meddling with their thoughts. That's why the real trick of it lies in the subtlety. Wehn well executed, the subjects are not aware it is taking place when it does. My perspective, Ciarán, is that people want the sensation of freedom more than the fact of it. The fact leads people to ruin and poverty. Stripped, again, of choice but under much darker circumstances than the lowliest slave in Solunarium is like to learn." Arry's fiery eyes lingered on the human's, searching for comprehension and, perchance, affirmation. Despite the tenor of his implications, he did not subtly draw the needle toward his preferred direction with his Craft, but allowed Ciarán his coveted freedom of choice, unmitigated.

"Mm... but what if we could make following the rules more fun? More natural to even the most rebellious spirit?" He paused to ponder the point Ciarán posed about foreign instigators to insurgency.

"Well, there is the common enemy you spoke about, ripe for the exploitation. Though we've toppled our share of governments, we try not to do it in such a way as to find ourselves in the history books alongside your Hytori queen." He smiled to himself as he took up his salad fork and poked through the course's offering.

"To wit: You are a clever boy with industrious parents. You are handsome, charming, adaptable and smart. Many people of no importance who live somewhere unimportant with all their thoughts and choices to themselves are none of those things, and the choices they freely make with their liberated minds lead them to ruin and despair. We are not all of us created equal in the eyes of the Founders. The playing field will never be level. There is always a pyramid. Our goal is but to ease the comfort of every person's place upon it. Tell me... have you befriended your slaves?" He inquired in a whimsical tone as he took a bite of salad and glanced back up to Ciarán.

[Finn]

Ciarán's eyes were clouded with thought; he gave his brother-in-law's words due consideration, but perhaps it would take the omnipresent subtleties of Solunarian Control to soften the edges of him as it seemed to have done to Finn over the years. A part of him clearly wanted to agree, if only to prevent unpleasantness between them. Perhaps his simple life previous to immigration had not afforded him experiences whereby his freedom could be seen in a negative light.

While he might have been smart, he was unused to having to argue points he found to be self-evident. A thousand arguments came to mind, but in the face of Arry's suave self-assurance, they felt like quicksand under his feet.

A little line appeared between his brows as he concentrated more on Arry's words than the food he was eating. He did latch onto one thing, though; perhaps it was low-hanging fruit. A conspiratorial smile that Arry might recognize appeared around the tines of a silver fork before Ciarán chewed, swallowed, and spoke.

"So, how does wearing a magic mask to go reveling among the peasants rate when it comes to following the rules?"

He laughed. He was aware of the holes in the argument; he wasn't really arguing a point anymore. But Arry continued and his smile dimmed a little into something more polite. Arry spoke more carefully now than he did when they first met, and Ciarán felt as though he would have to try to recall the words he used and didn't use with the sort of eidetic ear his brother had in order to eventually give them the consideration they deserved.

"Ah... well, I think technically they are Finn's slaves at the Prædium? Or are they your royal father's? I'm not totally clear on that... Finn said the Dragon King was letting him use it so he could have a presence in the Luxium to help win people over to your banners... I don't know if it was part of the... ah... bequeathment? Of a ducal title. Finn's talked about wanting to cannibalize the holdings of someone named Æros? And wanting to own the gens Nykara...?"

His face darkened a bit remembering that. It didn't seem like Finn to have a grudge against someone's entire family, nor to have enough power to ruin them if he did. But then he remembered he hadn't actually answered the question.

"Well, anyway, I'm polite to them because they are people and my parents raised me to be polite to people, and they are nice but... I think that's the magical mesmerism talking. I don't actually know who they are as people so I can't say that we're friends. I'm not really trying to make them my friends, though... I just don't know who my... ah... peers are anymore."

[Arvælyn]

"If I didn't know any better, I would think you were trying to discourage me from joining you in your revels. Fortunately, I render the rules, so I am not beholden to them." Arry replied with a smirk. It was not as simple as that and there were those above him who could press the issue, but historically they remained aloof of such minutiæ and he hardly thought this would be the instance to catalyse a change to that trend. He knew the reckoning of his paternal dynasty and that, if he could not survive an anonymous night of revels in the Umbrium, he was not suited to his station upon the pyramid.

"Semantics. Unless Finn has expressly indicated to the contrary, the slaves of his household belong to its members of which you are one. Or do you consciously eschew the much maligned mantle of slaveholder?" This seemed to amuse the dragonborn, "I would understand this aversion, but I hope you will come to adopt my rationale for why you oughtn't concern yourself with such things. For a Solunarian slave is happier than a Kalzasern freeman, and if you were to liberate them, they would learn miseries from which their allotted station protects them. As long as you do not mistreat them, they are likely happier than you are." He noted, not without humour.

"You're further along than I thought, then." Arvælyn seemd pleasantly surprised. "When we first got here, Finn was ever trying to befriend the servi and learn their stories." He paused a moment to take a bit, to savour and swallow it, before a new line of thought slipped from his lips.

"Would you like something wholly your own? I cannot conjure another senate seat for House Viator without rankling the Old Guard, but we could set you up with a household of your own, to be sure. Maybe something private up river? Your own staff, your own lodging. Or a villa in one of the cities, if you prefer? I imagine it might be vexing to know that everything yours is truly your brother's. Fortunately, I like you and would gift you this, if you fancy."

[Finn]

Ciarán paused in his meal to idle with his glass in hand lest the bounty surfeit his appetite.

"No, you should definitely come out," he said with a conspiratorial smile. "If not tonight, then soon. Help your poor bumpkin brother find a happy medium, moderation in all things, including moderation." That, of course, was punctuated by a sip of wine.

"They seem content, if not happy. Finn's better with words and feelings than I am... It just never occurred to me that I... would ever be contemplating the ethics of owning a person. I mean, in my actual life. And there's a sense of... what one Viator owns, we all own, sure. But the scope of what we own is also... not something I ever expected to be contemplating."

A quiet, possibly proud smile ghosted his features at the brief anecdote about Finn trying to assimilate.

"He would... He's probably a better man than me. He cares about the songs of the underclass, too. We weren't so very far from them... in status, I suppose. We were very far from them geographically. Oh, I... please don't. I appreciate the thought, but we have already been given so much. I feel like I need to take what I have been given and build something. Sitting in on the senate meetings... I can't say as I enjoy them, but it feels as though the time I spend there, the time I spend studying, I'm not just taking and taking and taking...

"I don't want to be a blacksmith. I don't know if I want to be a senator, but standing in for Finn might help me find my own direction. Or... perhaps whatever Rune your Assessors say would fit me, perhaps that would help me find some direction. I'm not unhappy, Arry. Really, I'm not. I'm floundering a little, but I'm not unhappy. You all just make it look so easy... so natural. I'm guessing you were acting like it was some grand new stage until it felt right?" He grinned a little, remembering when he and his parents had managed to get themselves to Kalzasi to see Arry's big break at the Golden Peacock.

Now he was a golden elf and a platinum dragon mashed together.

"Oh, unless you can make me a dragon. I would take that any day!"

[Arvælyn]

"You assume I'm familiar with restraint myself." Arvælyn smirked, shaking his head. "A night out would be an oasis in the desert expanse of my social life. Do not be surprised if I surfeit myself at the earliest convenience." Another course was completed, removed and replaced with its successor as they chatted.

"Think of it semantically. We are merely using more direct terms for what happens in every society. The elite exert power over the common folk. A wealthy noble of Kalzasi may not own a deed on their servants, but their servants are no less reliant upon them. They are no less positioned to ruin the lives of servants who cross them. We just do away with the facade here and call it what it is. If you are not abusive and you treat your servants well, then they are, as you say, content." Not wishing to belabour the point, he focused on the fish course for a moment.

"As you wish, but do not hesitate to let me know if you change your mind in the future." He glanced up to listen as Ciarán seemed to work through some issues in real time. "Something like that, but part of me believed in my former facade of glamour, so I was already practised in the art. It was more a matter of adjusting the details to fit my actual station. No longer playing at Hytori lord, I had to pivot toward Solunarian prince. And, for my posture, I thank the wings. They do not let me slouch." He offered with a snigger.

"Ha! I cannot make you a dragon, but legend has it that prolonged exposure to the Platinum Dragonflight makes a body more true to itself. If you've the heart of a dragon, then perhaps you will become one in time. Just don't skip any suppers with my side of the family, even if they are notoriously terrifying."

[Finn]

"Well, if I outdrink you, I think I can still carry you home." He considered Arry. "I would have to figure out how best to tuck your wings in so they don't drag on the ground, though..." He snickered, knowing the Silver Sentinels would no doubt pluck their prince out of a drunken stupor and tuck him into bed if such were to happen. Mists, they might even show up in plain clothes, catch the intoxicated dragonborn unawares, and persuade him into some more private venue so as not to make a scene.

Or they would just blank people's memories who had witnessed a scene.

They were clever, the Silver Sentinels.

"Well, I don't know if I have enough years in me to change into a dragon." He laughed. "Anyway, difficult not to feel like prey around them. Even though they have all been perfectly polite." They were mostly a standoffish lot, but that only made sense, he supposed. How were they supposed to pretend to be equal enough to mere mortals and have what a mere mortal would consider a casual conversation?

Even Arry was erudite and more well-spoken than Ciarán was likely to be no matter how many books he read.

Then again, he would enjoy even the discomfort of such shared meals. He tried not to stare, but they were fucking dragons. Somehow Finn had made it so his in-laws were dragons and princesses. Perhaps if he became a proficient rider of wyverns, they might consider him if they ever made an order like the dragon-riders of Antiris. Now that would be something.

He just hoped if he ever did become one, his dragon didn't take on too pleasing a mortal guise. They were all so damned beautiful.

[Arvælyn]

"I shall endeavour not to force you to figure out the fix for that issue, as your carrying me home would doubtless scandalise any onlookers. A palace never wants for gossip, so I do my best to avoid serving up such juicy morsels as my husband's younger brother carrying me over the threshold like some Northern bride." Arry offered with a chuckle.

"I can't say I know how long such things take, if they are more sooth than myth to begin with." He smirked, "And don't worry, you are safely off the menu for the foreseeable future, provided your brother does not vex me overmuch with his sundry flirtations. The men in your family are egregious flirts, you know. You'd all have made a mint at the Velvet Cabaret." Not a time or place he frequently mentioned anymore, which seemed to suggest he was at greater ease with his present company than he was with most. Ciarán had never once heard Arvælyn reference such things in front of his blood relations. But then, of course, they hadn't actually known him for as long as the newly minted Viatori, who had met him in his humbler era.

"Have you made any friends here, I wonder? I'm pleasantly surprised that you didn't befriend your servi, but I know your family struggles to find its place on the pyramid so that is doubtless a challenge when it comes to connecting with others in a place where caste is king. Is Kenofer treating you well as he shepherds your senatorial saliency?" Erudite and well-spoken, indeed, Arry seemed to take a break from feasting to sit back and sip at his wine whilst his eyes scanned the visage of the human across the table.

[Finn]

Ciarán laughed again at the thought of carrying a drunken dragonborn prince home like a sack of grain over his shoulder, but he sobered a bit at what followed. There was a compliment in there, to be sure, but while he wasn't a Mesmer, he knew well enough some things that made be red flags.

"Oh, you needn't worry over Finn. He's flirtatious, sure, but he's so smitten with you... even more now that you're officially wed and everything. And the way he flirts..." He paused, trying to figure out how best to articulate something he hadn't thought about in full words before. "It's safe. Not just for you being his husband, but... it's almost like I would imagine courtly flirting between some paladin from a song... like, it's sincere. He's doing it because that's just his nature, but the intent isn't to fuck. It's to make someone feel good, appreciated. I think people can tell he's sincere, and that's why they respond well? Maybe they can't always tell that his intentions are purer than most...

"I'm the one who's keen." He laughed again, edging toward self-deprecation. "I mean, I assumed he would be hip deep in pretty naked people in the city, but unless he was hiding things, which doesn't seem like him, he wasn't all that... active. Anyway, there was nobody serious until you. I'm the one who accidentally fucked everyone in the village until I realized that none of them were marriage material. For me, anyway.

"And, uh, not really, no. I don't know how to make friends if I'm honest. I grew up with such a small group of people, I've known them all my life and I don't even recall how we ended up cleaving to certain others. Kenofer's nice to me, but I don't know that he would wish to consort with me if he hadn't been nudged. Anyway, I try not to take up his leisure time as well as his work time. But he has been helpful. I am learning. Slowly, I suppose. Or there's just so much to learn."