Greyscale [Raithen]

[Pharaoh]

Greyscale
The Palatium Umbrarum
Searing Solstice, 122 Steel

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Phocion Val'Evelard Princeps of Gens Phaedryn-Sol'Aværys was more frequently known by the less grandiloquent moniker of 'Vigil Phocion'. It was simple, as he was to be perceived. Such was the custom of the order in which he served... indeed the order to which he was committed by powers that felt lofty enough to be called fate. He more frequently called them 'Family'. Whatever one called them, they had set him on this path of shadow and he had obliged. Moonborn as he was, one might think he favoured umbral darkness over brilliant lustre, and yet his lot made him covet that which was denied him.

It wasn't as though Vigil Phocion was forbidden from sunlight or denied entry to the Luxium. He, more than most, would be afforded great freedom almost anyone in the empire, if he invoked his lofty position as a member of the smallest, highest caste in the Solunarian hierarchic pyramid. But he was so rarely afforded the luxury of making such invocations. And so, as the Overcity reveled overhead in celebration of their traditional harvest festival, he remained in the dim light of his cavernous office- situated in the Under-Palace.

The Palatium Umbrarum, on rare occasions, hosted the grandiose royal court of Solunarium. When no sovereign sat the Obsidian Throne of he Palatium Umbrarum, it was occupied by the stewards of House Phaedryn and headquartered their charges: The Vigilia Argenti. And it had been many years since a Moonborn monarch had ruled the realm. Fate, it seemed, favoured the sun. And why shouldn't it? The sun asserted itself- Warming the backs of those who turned from it to serve as an ever-present reminder that it ruled the sky. The moon was easier thing to overlook... Even in the cloudless desert skies that loomed above their capital. Phocion was easy to overlook. It served him well in his profession, if not his spirit.

He rose from his desk, straightening out the long, black uniform he donned, with its subtle silver trimming and matching medals. Turning, he stepped toward the great window overlooking the sprawling city that had been built up amongst ancient ruins of some unknown civilisation... His city. Gentle, quiet, and specked with points of light below that reminded one of the stars one couldn't see above.

He heard footfalls, before the sound of a knock at the high, double doors that led into his lunar solar.

"Enter." He instructed, in a voice barely loud enough to be heard through the heavy doors.

[Raithen]

Four years spent in the court of the sun had set gold into the wings that graced the back of the bastard of Phaedryn, gilded his skin, widened his shoulders, and settled his mind. It wasn't as if he hadn't seen his family at all, in that time. Only that, when he had seen them, it had been as one holding an official position to others holding official positions. Now, well, now he was coming home.

Raithen had earned honors in his time guarding regal life and property, but he wore none of their physical expressions as he made his way down to his mother's home. Only a lite robe, linen and thin enough to just manage to be opaque, thigh length and tied over matching trousers with no embellishment at all. If the creamy white of them set off his own coloring, it wasn't with any specific intention, and if his smile shone perhaps too brightly for the setting he was entering, this also was without his knowledge.

When he arrived he was informed that his mother was out, seeing to matters of state or family, no doubt. His sister too, he was informed, was not at the house, so he was shown to where his brother was working. An odd thing, being escorted through your childhood home, but he didn't complain, only nodding with a smile to the head servant and following behind. When they arrived, and the servant left him, there was a moment, standing before the door when he felt like a child again, wanting to please his elder siblings, but never being sure how to do so.

Shaking the doubt away, he stepped up and knocked. Perhaps this could be a new start, meeting, if not as equals, as adults.

The voice that answered his knock was familiar, in both tone and volume and Rai's grin could not help but return as he pushed the doors open and saw his brother.

"Phocion!" He said, not loudly, but with enthusiasm, "Brother, how are you?"

Stepping across the room he embraced his older sibling with more affection than he knew to expect in return. The relationship was not strained, at least, Raithen would not have called it so, but the difference in their ages and statuses had created distance between them as children.

"I was hoping to find Mother, but I'm happy to see you." He meant it.

[Pharaoh]

"Sorry you need settle for me." Phocion offered, without turning from his position at the window. His voice seemed just as soft as it had through the door, which meant it was actually softer- As if the Vigil knew exactly how much effort to expend to be heard in at least several situations, and elected not to exceed that. Slowly he turned his head to one side, to glance over his shoulder at Raithen. He shrugged it lanquidly.

"Well enough. How fare you?" He responded as he turned from the window and gestured for his half-brother to claim a seat across the desk. It might have felt more like an appointment than a fraternal drop-in to Raithen, but not to Phocion. It hadn't, after all, been scheduled.

As he took his own seat, high-backed but simple, he reached over to pour a cup of water from the pitcher to his right and slide it across to Raithen. The room was dimly lit, and much of what light shone at present poured in from the window behind Phocion, so his pale face dwelt in shadow though his silver-white eyes almost seemed to reflect lunar luminescence- Twin moons at twilight. They roamed Raithen, noting how his sunkissed features were maturing beyond adolescence and into adulthood.

He cleared his throat,

"And what as been keeping you occupied of late, Frater?"

[Raithen]

The younger brother only nodded when asked how he was, with a sort of half-shrug that implied he was quite well, but not nothing to report about it.

Taking the seat was a reluctant thing, for he was full of energy and not in the mood to keep still. Even the tempering nature of Phocion's office, all dark colors and contrasting darkness and light, had less of an effect on him than it had as a child. Being younger by eight years meant he'd still been running amok when his brother had started working seriously. But, sit he did, and took the water offered gratefully. It was hot, even in the shadowed city, and his wings could not offer him cooling shade there.

"The guard kept me well employed and busy enough." His discharge ceremony would be on the morrow, along with others who were retiring. Invitations had been sent to his mother and both siblings, and while he hoped they might all attend he had never been able to correctly guess what Phocion might do with any regularity.

"I hope you'll come, tomorrow. If you aren't too busy. The royal family will be there, some of them." It was tradition to thank the guard for their service, and some honors would be given out. Rai had earned some already, having been wounded in regal defense more than once, but he might well have earned something more. Whether he did or not did not concern him, except that the honor would transfer to his mother's house. There was a meal planned, to celebrate afterward, Cithaera's invitation implied it would be a family affair.

Rai could hope that it would allow him to assess how things stood between himself and his siblings. No doubt had ever entered his mind as to where he stood with the head of House Phaedryn. Even when he'd been little and bad, he had always gone to her and begged her pardon, accepted what discipline she chose with gratitude, and ran into her arms once it was done. The knowledge that she loved him, and he her, was the cornerstone of his life.

There had been a time when he had saught Phocion's favor, hero-worshipped him as an older brother, but it had come to nothing. They had been too different, and the gap in their ages too great to be overcome by childish enthusiasm.

[Pharaoh]

"Ah yes." Phocion sighed as he replied, "I received your invitation." And their mother had followed up to emphasise her expectations of fraternal support from the elder of the two. "I shall attend." He added mildly, without getting into the wherefores of the matter.

"Are congratulations in order?" Phocion wasn't entirely clear on the reason for Raithen's departure. It clearly wasn't a matter of disgrace, if the Crown was troubling themselves with a ceremony.

"At any rate, I hope mother and I will suffice. I may be encroaching on state secrets in so saying, but our dear sister Valæra is indisposed. The work of our order has sent her abroad to visit our allies in Auris. I hope you aren't terribly disappointed..." He paused for a beat, and glanced briefly over his shoulder to the window.

"I am surprised you aren't partaking in the Solstice festivity." He noted, blithely. "I know it is rather diminished this year with so much of its usual flare being reserved for the centennial celebration of Her Divine Radiance's reign." He went about the usual formalities, even though they both had solid foundations to disfavour the reigning queen. She had, after all, been among those directly responsible for the summary execution of their distaff grandfather. But the forms were the forms and Phocion was an obedient scion of Solunarium.

"Still, you are better built for ostentation than for austerity such as this..." The wing of the Palatium Umbrarum that was occupied by the Sentinels was spartan indeed. Even the residences and ceremonial halls located in the northerly wings were ascetic when compared to the decor of the sunlit sister palace. Of course when it was occupied by a sovereign things were spruced up accordingly, but the differences remained stark.

"Will you be taking up residence here again indefinitely?"

[Raithen]

Rai's grin lit up the little space he was in and his wings looked, for a moment, like they might extend. The Avialea had taken longer than most (what few he knew of, anyway) to learn to control his additional appendages and had, on more than one occasion, knocked someone over when he was excited or agitated. Phocion had been one of those people and had not been amused. They wouldn't open without his conscious command now, at least, not if he was conscious. The unconscious ability to flare open to save him in case he fell from a height was useful, until he dreamt of falling a woke up to an angry barracks-mate.

Hoping his brother had not noticed the flutter he said, "Thank you, I want you there."

The younger man's ability to be open with his emotions was, he knew, a privilege of his position. Phocion could not afford to be so, but Rai sometimes wondered if he wouldn't still keep them silent if he had the option. The confusion set him down a bit and he answered,

"Uhm, you don't have to. It's just most guardsmen from noble families serve four years and then are honorably discharged. That's what I'm doing. Some choose to stay on for life." Phocion might not have known about young nobility being released, or he might have thought Raithen had signed on for life. He could have, but, as much as he'd learned from his time in service, it didn't feel like a good fit for him.

A look of worry crossed his face at the idea of their sister, older still, being ill, but returned to his normal expression when he realized it was not that sort of 'indisposed'. Of all the family Raithen had seen the least of Valæra and would have been a little surprised if she had shown up.

"Oh, I will." His smile was back at the mention of the festival, "But family first, always."

The sentence was spoken with such honest conviction that it might have sounded false from another.

"I thought I might ask mother if she wanted any Fireflowers for the dinner tomorrow. I'll get her some, just in case."

He flushed at what he wasn't sure was a compliment, but chose to take it as one.

"I don't know. I mean," He leaned an elbow on the arm of the chair, unable to lean back in it due to his wings. Almost nothing was created with them in mind in the city, so he'd learned how to be comfortable in his own way. "I will always think of this as 'home', but I've been writing to mother about joining one of the mercenary guilds, working my way up."

As a royal guard he'd had to obey the royal family, often directly, but as a mercenary, particularly if he worked his way up in the ranks to lead them someday, he could be on hand to assist his family in any circumstances in which they might need force of arms.

"Several have offered to take me," Inquiries had only been sent to the most honorable, of course, and, in truth, all of them had seemed pleased to offer him a place, "But I wanted to talk it over with mother before making a choice. Then I'd be out in the wilds for a good bit of the time, for a few years at least. Out from under your feet again, eh?"

[Pharaoh]

Raithen had no such luck that Phocion hadn't noticed the shift in his wings. Phocion's job was noticing things and, even having spent much of his childhood with an Avialæ, it had been a spell and they were still a curiosity to him.

"Do mind the furniture, won't you? Like everything in this bloody kingdom, it's antique." He listened to the explanation of Raithen's discharge and shrugged,

"Congratulations, then. I suppose part of me always expected you to transfer to the Honour Guard, but I forget that we of Phædryn are not eligible, given the pedigree requirements..." He grumbled that last bit. It wasn't something he'd have uttered in mixed company, but they were all Phædryns here.

"Family is always first." Phocion echoed, grimly, saying without saying that the self came second at best. He arched a brow at the mention of mercenary aspiration. His initial instinct was to assume that their mother would find that unsuitable, but quickly- and well before Raithen expounded upon his reasoning- the Vigil saw the merit of it. To think of outward honour was such a gaudy, Golden notion, where he was a child of subtle silver. There was measurable merit in fostering mercenary allies. The walls were closing in ever more tightly around the Sanguinist elite who basked in their sunlit sister palace. And Phocion knew that their mother had fostered allies of which even her children were ignorant.

"That is a wise course, if it does not beg suspicion... Mother will likely have to feign coolness toward you for a time..." Was that a brotherly warning offered out of concern? Phocion's eyes shifted downward toward his desk. "But I'm certain she will tell you that herself." He paused for a beat, and when he lifted his silver-white eyes there was a glassy vulnerability that Raithan rarely ever saw.

"Did you know that I was able to travel abroad?" He asked in a tone that sounded seeking. What it sought was for Raithen to discern, "To Kalzasi in the North?"

[Raithen]

Strangely, Rai took the admonishment like another might have taken affection. He shifted slightly, showing his willingness, now, to take care.

"Thank you." He said again, not preening under the reluctant praise, but happy for it no less. He pulled a face at being reminded that he could not join the Honor Guard. Not for himself, but he did feel the exclusion. The currents of political struggle, ancient and endless did pull at even a mixed-breed bastard at the lofty heights in which his family took their place.

The younger was, indeed ignorant of the majority of the machinations of his House, and knew too that, being so made him useful in other ways. He could behave in ways that his siblings and illustrious mother could not, go places, and make friendships that would not be tenable for them. Without knowing, there was no worry that he might accidentally reveal what should not be. His mind was not slow, and, if he had been trained, he might have made good on the skills most common to their linage, but he had not been, and did not regret it.

He could be grateful that Phocion was in the position he was, respect its difficulty, and leave it at that. It was, if not common knowledge, acknowledged in the higher circles that the Matriarch of House Phaedryn was over-indulgent of her winged bastard. His joining with a mercenary group, even an honorable and well-respected one, would likely be seen as another of her indulgences, and, in a way, it was.

Rai wanted to be free to explore, to learn in the way he did best, by doing. There was more to it, of course, likely far more than Rai himself realized, and he was comfortable with that too. The seeming innocuous nature of the turn in conversation was tainted by the rare expression that barely shone in the pale eyes across from him, so he said, carefully,

"I had heard, a letter from mother. How was it? I've wanted to travel." He did not let jealousy into his tone, only interested curiosity.

[Pharaoh]

"It was..." Phocion paused, a rare, albeit faint smile crossing his fair features, "...remarkable. The whole experience. Flying by night across the great Crystal Sea, camping by day with a stalwart crew." He was rarely this verbose, let alone this engaged. It might have looked bland on another face, or to one who wasn't familiar with this one, but he seemed downright enthusiastic.

"We camped in Auris in the shadow of Kaledon, and made sacrifices to the Founders. One could feel their presence in the very air there. They spoke not to us, but one could sense them in the ash on the ground and the smoke in the air.

"After that, one party made for Zaichaer and I led the others to Kalzasi. It was such a peculiar place, so... Vibrant and... disorderly. There was a charm to it... At least for a short trip like mine was, but I can scarcely imagine how they function in the day-to-day. With their patron missing, it was easy to forget the place was afflicted by the blight of Arcas..." He trailed off, shaking his head- as if apologetic for his enthusiasm and for taking up so much air in their exchange.

"It was... The experience of a lifetime. I'd never have had that, if Valæra weren't otherwise occupied." Phocion knew well that he was the second choice. He didn't know what work Valæra was about in Auris, but it had been taking up quite a bit of time and she still wasn't back. That meant the High Sentinel must deemed it to be of incredible import. Valæra was her natural heir in so many ways, and they'd never been apart this long as far as he could recall.

"There were of course many in Kalzasi..." He gestured broadly toward Raithen, and his visage cooled somewhat, "...of your ilk."

[Raithen]

'Ilk' might have upset someone else, but Rai only laughed. He knew he was the odd bird out, there hadn't been much choice about it when he'd grown up the only person in his household, and usually in any given room, with the feathered feature of his father's heritage protruding from his back.

The trip did sound nice, and he had enough tact not to talk about flying by night over the river, or near the mountain heights. Part of him longed to travel to such places himself, to experience other ways of life, but it didn't feel as though he had experienced his own people's way of life, not yet, not fully. Also, some small part of him didn't want to be so commonplace that he went wholly unnoticed, as he would in Kalzasi. Nor did Zaichaer, where he would be seen as an abomination, particularly appeal to him.

It was rare for Phocion to speak so long and Rai focused on it, on his words and tone, even his body language, trying to garner some insight that had eluded him through his youth. When the well of words dried up the younger man sat forward and said,

"That sounds... amazing. I'm not sure I was made for diplomatic feats, but I wouldn't mind seeing such places, if only briefly. I sometimes feel that the desert is in my blood, and if I'm away too long I'll dry out and die." His smile was self-deprecating even if it was also genuinely amused, "I suppose that doesn't make any sense."

After a moment's pause, he said,

"Mother said there was to be a dinner, after the ceremony tomorrow. I hope you'll be there too." It was just to be family, so, if Phocion was otherwise occupied, it would just be Rai and their mother. As much as he liked private meals with their matriarch, having a lavish dinner for just two felt like a waste.