Legend of Ransera

Once the negotiations had been completed and details hammered out, Khyan was made aware of more specifics of the impending transition. He'd preferred to remain ignorant while things were still up in the air, because he knew he was prone to getting ahead of himself. He didn't want to leap to conclusions and be disappointed, if his expectations weren't met to the letter. Being kept in the dark made the whole endeavour nebulous enough that he could only hope in the vaguest of terms. But now there was a sum agreed upon, a deed of purchase waiting to be signed and a date, which was now upon them.

For his own reasons, which were not altogether obvious to Khyan, Cetus seemed to prefer to remain relatively hands off in the whole process. He'd let his Major Domus serve as plenipotentiary, while the master himself stood aloof of the transaction's proceedings. Today, however, he did invite Khyan to breakfast with him at his table like a guest, rather than a slave. Kind words were exchanged between the former schoolmates, and Khyan picked at the rich fare offered by his fellow servi. His stomach was in knots from the nerves, so he wasn't really hungry, but didn't wish to offend by refusing so kind a gesture on Cetus' part.

The Major Domus appeared toward the end of the meal and presented Cetus with the deed of sale, which he signed before leaving for the Vigilia Argenti Prætorium. With their dominus gone, the Major Domus unlocked and removed Khyan's golden collar with less ceremony than the former Patrician may have liked. He rubbed at his neck.

"Don't get too comfortable." The Major Domus reminded him, "Your new dominus will doubtless have another collar to mark you as property of House Sælyan, and it isn't like to be of such fine make."

Khyan pursed his lips and grudgingly nodded his understanding. A knock at the front door echoed through the foyer, as the Major Domus removed the last few trappings of livery that identified Khyan as a member of the household they currently occupied. By the time Æros was led inside, Khyan wore nothing but a plain, cream-coloured tunic with a rope belt and soleæ.

Æros was led into a sitting room, where he'd find Khyan stood rather sheepishly beside the Major Domus, who was holding a portfolio in front of his chest.

"Your Lordship." The man bowed his head, "His Lordship of Argenti has already signed the contract. If you've the agreed upon sum in hand, we can have you sign your bit and that shall, as they say, be that." He glanced to the young servus at his side. There wasn't much in the way of warmth from the steward of the house, so the faint smile he offered felt all the kinder. Dark eyes danced to Æros, and then promptly to the floor. A bashful smile was as much of a greeting as he'd offer for the moment.

"We certainly try." The Major Domus stifled a prideful grin at the comment regarding efficiency. That was, to the man's mind, a compliment to himself personally. It wasn't a simple thing to bring order to the household of a brash young noble like Cetus Argenti. Beyond the youth of his dominus, he was also a man of import... a Sentinel with the concerns of the realm swirling through his head. He relied upon a dedicated staff to worry about the daily operations of the domus. And, in truth, he was pleased to lose the dead weight Khyan represented for their staff. He took up resources and offered little in the way of service. Due to his upbringing, he had the manner of a master which made him rather impossible as a servant. Founders knew their weekly wine budget would be greatly reduced for his absence.

"Gratias." The older man accepted the bank note and reviewed it carefully for any signs of forgery or error, before handing over the contract, as he made a few notes in the household accounting ledger. The Major Domus scanned over the signature pages of the two copies, before looking to Khyan with a nod.

"You are hereby relieved from service to Gens Argenti. Bona fortuna in your new position with Gens Sælyan." He nodded, and escorted them both to the front door. "A pleasure doing business, Milord." As they stepped outside, the Major Domus nodded to the slave who admitted Æros, who shut the door behind them as they made their way down the walk.

Khyan bit his bottom lip, as if punishing it for grinning too hard.

"I can't believe it... That chapter is really closed, unless I'm merely dreaming all this!" His hand rose to rub at his bare neck and he shrugged one shoulder.

"Oh, there's no need to go to such great expense for some ornate collar. Especially not when I won't-..." He paused and his smile fell a bit. "Well, I just assumed you'd not keep me in disgrace for longer than was necessary. If such is the case, it would be a silly thing to waste money on, unless you hope to take up a collection of disgraced noble servi." He wagged a finger at Æros, "And if you do, I shall be quite cross." He bade, jovially.

"A family estate, then?" Khyan did arch a brow at that. He hadn't heard terribly much about Æros' family, and what had been uttered hadn't been particularly favourable. "What spurred that notion on, pray tell?"

Khyan's Symphony spoke of excitement, but also an anxious uncertainty. It was as if he was only just now in the aftermath of the exchange, realising the gravity of the commitment into which he'd just entered. It had been his own choice, albeit by proxy, and yet one that felt ponderously weighty. He didn't really know how this new arrangement would play out in the day to day. Thus far it had been a fleeting fantasy, but now it would be a consistent reality. He glanced to Æros and noticed he was practising his Craft, which caused a moment of tension followed by a queer shift in his Symphony- a lightening from frantic brass to legato strings.

"I know..." The lilt of disappointment sent him into a minor key. He knew it wasn't rational to expect a prompt emancipation, but that didn't mean it hadn't been something he'd envisioned. He'd noted himself in the past that freedom in and of itself could actually be detrimental to him if he didn't have a support system. A slave was accorded shelter, food, medicine... a free plebeian was promised no such entitlements. He had exploitable skills, he suppose, though not much of a work ethic. He might still curry the attention of the Sentinels, if he found himself in desperate straits, but once their hooks were in, even if he somehow reclaimed his rightful place in the senatorial class, he'd be their creature. He could content himself to be Æros' for a bit while they figured things out, and perhaps even beyond.

"You make me sound like a mouse!" He chuckled, "Of course I wouldn't skitter away." He smirked, tilting his head, "I might slither, though." He granted with a playful wink and a grin that highlighted his extended fangs, which snapped back into normal canine teeth after a moment as he said:

"I jest. I'm happy with the arrangement and, beyond that, I'm not an ingrate. I was enough of an expense I think to feel valued enough. Further gifts would only make me feel guilty, as I've no resources with which to return the favour." He observed with a meek shrug.

"Oh! You'll sit in the senate?" Khyan blinked in surprise, "The acquisition of a dashing new slave and a seat in the Senate. What a season for you! My preference would be toward celebrating your recent strides however you'd like. You are, after all, the dominus..."

Khyan was no stranger to being the subject of a Mesmer's Craft. No Solunarian was. Perhaps more than any other discipline of magic, it was Mesmer that oiled the imperial machine of state. It was infused into their education from childhood, regularly practised to reinforce the realm's faith at religious gatherings, used to monitor the more secure areas of the cities, and to re-condition those who'd lapsed in the eyes of the Crown. Despite, or more likely because of, it's prevalence, it wasn't something one was like to blithely question when practised by agents of the Crown. There was trust that the Dynasty of Divinity knew best and served the interests of the Founders as their avatars. Interpersonally, it was a bit different but, Khyan was forced to recognise that this was a new sort of relationship wherein his station was so, so far beneath that of his counterpart that Æros would have been well within his rights to practise his Craft upon the Vastian however suited his whims. Even if he had objections, he had no right to really litigate them. Sometimes he envied those with mundane minds who could live blissfully unaware of the tethers that bound them all.

He could see the motion of the æther as it was exploited to console the very concerns that had been brimming. He let out a sigh of relief, and nodded at Æros' explanation, though he didn't offer a verbal reply on the matter of Mesmer. As to the gift, however...

"Perhaps there's no expectation from you, but I still feel it within myself. I'm not accustomed to this situation. I spent the vast majority of my life living by Patrician mores, and it is... difficult to adapt. I rather wish the Argenti had sprung for the more thorough, arcane sort of conditioning that prepares slaves for their lots. But I tend to think the Consul wanted us properly punished, so he shirked the chance to ease our descent."

As the pair advanced toward Æros' domus and the conversation advanced toward senatorial ambitions, he smiled faintly. Perhaps he'd live under the roof of a senator once more, despite the altered circumstances.

"My life? Ohh... Nothing nearly so interesting as yours. I've not met a single deity! I've just been wiling away the hours waiting for today..." He replied, as he was led on the familiar path to the boudoir. He inclined his head at his first task as Æros' servus.

"Of course..." He trailed off, and made his way to the cupboard to peruse the options. He took note of the wines, but his hand found the neck of a brandy bottle. He was keen to indulge in starker stuff than wine to ring in this welcome transition. He poured two glasses, and brought them over to Æros. "Dominus."

Khyan nodded at the offer and the unnatural edge melted from his Symphony, letting it return to a natural approximation of tranquility.

He considered the response to his suggestion that he'd have preferred deeper conditioning and pursed his lips, considering.

"The me that exists in the here and now is glad of that, but the me that could have been remains blissfully unaware... In point of fact, if I am to gain my freedom before long perhaps its all for the best I don't grown too comfortable in livery. It's just... a notion I had at the time, when things felt more abject, more... termless." Khyan was an epicurean hedonist, at heart. For him, pleasure was paramount, and if he couldn't enjoy life on the terms he'd come up with, he'd contentedly yield those terms up in favour of a frame of reference that suited the reality of his lot.

"I try!" Khyan shrugged, taking a sip from his own snifter after Æros tasted his. He placed his glass beside his master's, and crawled onto the bed to nestle against the Færie.

"It is..." He agreed, "But I feel nervous. Not in a bad way, just sort of like a naughty child who's up to mischief. I guess I'd grown accustomed to our prior, more clandestine arrangement." He lifted his head to seek Æros' golden eyes with his own mahogany.

"I'm sure it will fade with time. It's scarcely been an hour." New patterns would doubtless emerge and, with them, new comforts. It was strange to imagine their ever mercurial relationship might be trending toward stability. To think that they might even have routines together. Khyan wondered what they might be, as he lazily traced his fingertips along a starlit forearm.