Legend of Ransera

Finn wasn't certain that Karmordi's usual certitude was properly adaptive in the case of hunting Primals, but he wondered at the efficacy of putting him off balance. If one wanted to dissuade someone from a course of action, then by all means, make them wonder whether it was the right decision. If one wanted to encourage someone into a dangerous course of action, it were better to bolster their confidence and give them all the tools to succeed.

At first he wondered what the point of praying to dead gods was, but then her stratagem became clear.

He offered Karmordi a supporting smile before the ork made his way to the shrine. In Ecith, he hadn't offered religious guidance to anyone lest he offend the Orkhan Triumvirate. Ailos was separate, of course, but it didn't seem right to do so now.

Feeling the slipspace around him, he waited until he could feel his friend go beyond earshot before turning to Imogen.

"Well managed," he said dryly, but while gently mocking, there was respect there. "What exactly do you desire, Dread and Venerable Witch? I understand delegation, and it seems unlikely you are cruel enough to encourage a man to a suicidal end..." Blue eyes peered curiously at her; there seemed to be no judgement in them.

He also glanced at his attendants. They could be sent away if she wished, but he wouldn't keep them in the dark and they weren't likely to report back to Karmordi in any case. They didn't really understand why he liked the berserker.

"Wounded?" An eyebrow raised, half-smiling. "I said it was unlikely you would have such nefarious aims."

Finn didn't sit, but his posture relaxed some as Kitty forced her to adjust her own. She probably would have liked him better had she met him back before he first ventured to Solunarium with Arvine Venasyr, before the orphan became Phædryn Sol'Zalkyrion Arvælyn Princeps Draconum and Finn himself became Amadeus Viator Finn Dux Empyreus—mouthfuls of words more than names, really.

Back then, he had been an aspiring bard, a seeker of stories, and a young lover. In the desert, he had become a player as Arry had been, playing a Sentinel, then playing a prince's beloved, and now playing ambassador to the desert kingdom's great enemy. Music remained, but it was sidelined by necessity.

After all her declamation, though, he responded with a curious, "You have a poultice to cure baldness?"

But he dismissed that with a short laugh.

"I doubt the Commonwealth would track you for getting me killed, the xenophobia of Solunarium would make traveling there dangerous enough even if you didn't." The last was more somber; Kalzasern Orkhan were well-respected as any other race, barring of course the ruling class of Avialae. But they had been integrated into Kalzasern society from the beginning, had predated 'Kalzasi' in that place, rather than being a neighbor to Solunarium, with its history of racial supremacy shifting from Vastian to the elves of Re'ha.

"Very well, then. I will keep an eye on Karmordi and try to give him good counsel. What is it you hope to dig up on this island? The Shinsei might have something to say about that..."

Dead solar goddesses were one thing, but the divine focus of the Dawnmartyrs was quite another—he was alive and well and living in Kalzasi.

"Sounds like my grandmother," he murmured.

But when she spoke of the Dawnmartyrs, he listened. When he had been merely Finn the minstrel in Kalzasi, Talon Novalys had claimed him as a friend. Finn assumed it was just politeness, though the Shinsei had spoken openly to him about many things one might consider the purview of friends.

In any case, their paths had diverged. One became a godling; the other became a favorite of another godling and climbed the pyramid of power without even intending to do so. He had been Dæmon in Solunarium, and quite meek, all things considered.

"I would be curious to hear more about him as a one-god army," he said. "Sounds like the making of a song."

And certainly the Divine Twins would want to keep track of his power. His was on a par with one or the other of them, insofar as he understood such things, but he also claimed a blood lineage from Eikæn Himself. Finn didn't know if that were true, or why the Creator of Order would ever have deigned to take mortal form. To his mind, Eikæn and Naori were several orders of magnitude more powerful than Aværys and Varvara, and that age and power and complexity made him unsure that they were even people in a sense he could understand.

But...

"Do you need help with that?"

After quickly reading the inscription, he shrugged. It didn't sound inspired, but then, he wasn't quite fluent in the Ecithian tongue yet. He was a quick study and largely immersed in it while in Drathera, but still and all, those things took time.

"I don't believe I could charm the Crownwyrm myself, but I might be able to help you keep her asleep until your cleansing is complete."

He still wanted to learn draconic, but his in-laws said it was too difficult. There were others with human mouths who could, he knew. But he wasn't certain if they thought him incapable or unworthy. Or neither or both. They were mysterious, the platinum dragonflight of Solunarium.

Finn considered that. It was entirely possible that Arcas was visiting Solunarium as Dæmon, but Finn was stationed in Drathera so he wouldn't know unless Phocion or Arvælyn happened to share with him while he was home. He did sneak home—mostly for conjugal visits, but also to make direct reports and visit his family—but the deified prince of Kalzasi wasn't really his purview anymore.

He let a touch of distaste twist his lips. Hardly Zaichæri in his relationship with divinity, but the idea of that much divine power leveled upon the material world was part of the reason the Custodes Deorum even existed. The best gods, in his estimation, were the gods who helped those who helped themselves. Aid was one thing; wiping arse only infantilized their followers.

Imogen had met him in front of Raxen's temple after one of his spars with Karmordi, so she knew he had seen Raxen in action. He didn't train with the Arbiters every day, but it happened.

Not a month previous, he had gone on patrol with Raxen and three dragons. It was supposed to be routine and yet...

"I don't know that my skill with the blade will ever be such that challenging Raxen would earn me anything but pain," he said wryly. He didn't need help to illumine his shortcomings. He was quite aware.

As for the danger in healing surly, sleeping dragons, "I don't know the full extent of your power, but you would be more likely to survive with a mesmer to buy you time and a traveler to see you out as soon as your work was complete. You would have that combination in me."

He spread his hands.

"You know where to find me if you decide to take me up on the offer."