Person of Interest

[Hekatos]

Person of Interest

18th of Glade, 124th Year of the Age of Steel

Far from a promenade of pleasures, Rhydian Val'Kor had been sent forth by his sovereign with certain broad goals as well as other, more specific ones. Certainly, he already had spies in the Kalzasern court and the city, but why he wanted a high profile personage on this was not something he had shared.

House Val'Istra fell under the eye of the Prince of Tronóridan, though its holdings were inland from the capital. Its merchant interests reached beyond the bounds of the empire, so it was not strange to have one of its scions overseeing matters in a city such as this. Careful inquiries led to a modest townhouse in the Plaza of Jeweled Arches, suitable for a nobleman of taste. More eye-catching was the neighbor, whose home was of a similar style, but stood stories higher and had hints of magic akin to that of the geomancers who "grew" buildings in Sol'Valen. Its jewel-green roofs--apparently where the strange name of the deme came from--were a striking green, complementing the sapphire blue of the Istraoikos-in-exile.

Perhaps Laurevere had chosen to live in the shadow of the tower so as to attract less notice himself.

As Rhydian approached, perhaps to leave a calling card or the like, his progress was arrested by the sight of two of his own people. One was likely Laurevere Val'Istra, a nobleman at least. The other was dressed as a prosperous artisan, his clothes simple, but well made. They seemed relatively chummy, but some noble houses were more familiar with those they patronized. Their paths split and the artisan continued toward the front door of the tower.

To a passive scan, he could tell that Laurevere was of mixed blood--Siltori. He ought to have been in Auris, then, a bridge himself between Siltori and Hytori interests himself. His neighbor was of mixed blood as well--Dratori. Before Rhydian could tip his hand with a more active scan, he noted that the Dratori was a masterful Seer himself. Best not to endart his arcane eye too far lest the mongrel become aware of him.

The Dratori's elegant hands began to dance before him, unlocking complex wards he had built around his home. It was indeed magical in nature, even beyond the wards, and spirits flocked to it. Laurevere merely walked to his blue-painted door, confident it would be opened for him.

[Rhydian ValKor]

At the sight of whom he assumed to be his assigned target, Rhydian instinctively sidestepped into the obscuring shade of a nearby alleyway. He was not the worst elf to be assigned to clandestine missions, as his natural inclination was to avoid unscheduled social interaction-- particularly with unknown parties. If he was to meet with one of his King's more furtive operatives without marking him, his reflex toward avoiding attention derived of his personal preference, also served the mission. Ailuin was so clever to see that in him, Rhydian mused with a slight, inward smile.

From beneath that comforting blanket of shadow augmented by the Alteration he nurtured through his Craft of Semblance, Strýchnos tou Val’Kor observed the two half-blooded elves. He marked more with his mundane eye than his arcane Craft, given the threat of detection that quickly presented itself. His classical training in Silfanore had given him a light touch when it came to initial scans, as not to rouse the attentions of their subjects. Still, some more potent Semblers were able to mark his attention, depending on their quirks and areas of focus, but in this instance that didn't seem to be the case. At least not insofar as he could tell.

Rhydian would wait for the Demi-Dratori to wend through the wards and step into his verdant tower, before heading toward the humbler home. Checking his surroundings as he crossed the distance, he paused and lowered his head to take a steeling breath, before rapping a knuckle against the blue painted door. Val'Istra was unlikely to have proceeded far beyond the threshold, having just stepped inside himself, but better to disturb him before he got too settled and occupied himself with other matters.

[Hekatos]

Neither the Demi-Dratori's tower nor the Demi-Siltori's town house were excessively warded, and Rydian could easily sense the magic inherent in the tower. It was familiar, similar to many homes in Silfanore. Behind both buildings and, apparently, some of their neighbors', was a slow, gentle thrum of magic, a sort of sanctuary similar to what he knew of, perhaps, an Aedrinean temple. But a closer look might alert the magus to his scrutiny.

It was no servant who answered the gem-toned door, but rather Val'Istra himself. Pale eyes darted hither and thither over Rhydian's form, and after a long moment, he stepped back into a bow proper to the Val'Kor court, though his house was largely settled in Tronóridan.

"Honored Prince," he said in courtly Mythrasi. "I hadn't heard you were in Karnor. I am afraid my hospitality here will not match what I might offer in Silfanore, but be welcome." He rose, stepping out of the way to let him past. The elf moved with a familiar grace--that of a warrior. He was no sembler, but rather a warder and kineticist. And indeed, while the foyer of his town house was perfectly acceptable for a Val'Hytori working abroad, it didn't seem as though he was able to get good help.

At least, nobody to answer the door for him.

The interior was balmier than the Kalzasern spring, more comfortable for those used to more southerly climes.

"May I take your cloak, offer refreshment?" This would not be uncommon for a close friend visiting the home, which was largely a private space. The elves did enjoy their privacy.

[Rhydian ValKor]

Rhydian’s lips tightened against his teeth as the man instantly recognised him. It wasn’t as though he was unaccustomed to renown, but that was in Silfanore. There it seemed the more he sought to shirk attention, the more he incurred. Here abroad he’d been relishing the relative anonymity. Still, it was no great shock that he was addressed appropriately to his station. In response to this he inclined his head and wordlessly accepted the tacit invitation to enter, merely by doing so.

“My stay is not a lengthy one and was not widely broadcast.” Rhydian offered by way of explanation, shaking his head to decline the offer of refreshment even as he doffed his crimson cloak and slung it over an arm. It certainly wasn’t needed for warmth nor concealment here.

“I apologise for appearing unannounced and, with all due courtesy, I shall endeavour not to upset your routines too egregiously by lingering overlong.” He offered, sounding like one who was very much averse to having his routines upset.

He followed wherever he was led, without paying much regard to the surroundings— Neither in appreciation nor in criticism. He seemed singularly focused on the matter at hand, seeming to consider that a well-warranted courtesy.

“You are no doubt aware of my position at court and my proximity to His Majesty, the Phoenix King. You may have correctly inferred that I was as sent at his command and I will not insult you by assuming you haven’t surmised the purpose for my abrupt appearance.” The still-faced, stoic delivery was impossibly aloof in that ineffable elven way though, in Rhydian, it seemed to be set a bit deeper than in most. Perhaps it was the Val’Kor military background that compounded the characteristic.

[Hekatos]

While not a prince himself, Laurevere had been trained to the court and noted even the tiniest of expressions, though he did not react to the prince's irritation. When he heard the shuffle of slippered feet behind him, he snapped his fingers and a young elven woman hurried over to bow and take the prince's cloak so he needn't carry it upon his royal person.

"Your Highness," she whispered. Expatriate elves seemed even more overawed by the nobility of their ancestors than those who remained in Sol'Valen. Then she disappeared once she heard he wanted no refreshments.

His platinum host led him deeper into the tasteful domicile, and out onto a patio, flagstones edged with lush grasses, the yard in the flush of new growth. It was warmer here than at Val'Istra's front door. Little fire elementals scurried hither and thither, climbing little updrafts of warm air and sliding down sunbeams gleefully, at least for those who could sense such things. Laurevere himself could not, but he let his gaze look out with paternalistic pride even though all he had done was allow his neighbor free reign.

Through the moon gate built between his larger yard and Sivan's enchanted garden, one could hear the droning of bees, see glimmers of dawnfire. There were chaises-longues for lounging, and a table with chairs where he often took his morning ablutions or broke his fast. He offered seating to the prince, and mirrored his choice. Then he offered the other elf his undivided attention. They would not be bothered by any of his few staff. From the moment he moved in, but especially during the Eclipse, he had hired Len'Hytori, ensuring they were paid and had access to fresh food. Sivan's magic had ensured crops grew, though now, crops were replaced with other things, leaving only a few aromatic herbs and other niche needs in memory of that need.

"I do try to keep abreast of news from Silfanore," he agreed. Obviously, he had identified the king's favorite on sight even though he had spent a couple of years over-watching yon Sivan. "I am at your disposal."

[Rhydian ValKor]

A grunt of acknowledgment served to both answer the servant’s salutation and approximate an expression of gratitude for taking the cloak off of his hands or, more literally, his arm. With that out of the way, Rhydian marched after Laurevere out of doors.

Even passively, he could not help but note the shifting of aether represented by the spirits present. These were more focused entities than one might happen upon in the proverbial wild. Managed after a fashion he was accustomed to seeing in some affluent homes or well-maintained public and private spaces. It was one manner of maintenance, though not one for which he held any particular affinity. Partial as he was to privacy, the constant presence of other beings, even as detached and impartial as spirits often were, did not appeal to him.

“Your garden is a lovely shard cut from Sol’Valen’s salient crystal.” He observed with all due sincerity as he took the offered seat and glanced to the neighbouring landscape. More spirits still and a clear crossover between the properties.

“You must be close with your neighbour. Is there a significant elven community in this quarter of Kalzasi?” He asked the question idly. It didn’t seem to be part of his greater mission so much as a point of personal curiosity.

“Ah.” Down to business. “And I am at His Majesty’s. So, why don’t you tell me what you would have Him know. You have spent a broad breadth of time afield of our motherland. Surely there is aught worthy of His Majesty’s regard that has not made its way into your regular reports… not out of any duplicity or negligence on your part, of course, but for reasons altogether pragmatic.” He gestured, indicating that the floor was Laurevere’s.

[Hekatos]

"Thank you."

Laurevere didn't elaborate on the gardening as the gardener was the true object of his stewardship in Kalzasi. The last thing he wanted the Phoenix King to know was that Sivan Len'Myren existed.

"Surprisingly not," he replied. This was his first time abroad, though it had been over two years now. He didn't quite fit in, but then what were two years to elvenkind? And anyway, he didn't perfectly fit in at home either. The family cause had given him something concrete to devote himself to, to prove his equal value. "The Kalzasern populace is rather heterogeneous. It has been an adjustment.

"I arrived here on 55th Frost, two years gone, with an eye to oversee my family's international investments. Hence, I found housing within the Plaza of Jeweled Arches closer to commerce rather than in the more appropriate Cloudhaven District or even a floating villa." He glanced toward the mountain, but the buildings and trees and hedges hereabouts were tall enough that one could be anywhere. There were no visible references beyond the walls, the gardens, and the escarpment against which the properties with conjoined gardens abutted. He rather liked that he could close his eyes and imagine he was in Silfanore.

"As a favor, I also carried news of the death of my neighbor's father. In fact, it was in visiting his home next door to do so that I found this place. Serendipitous. His former master, the alchemist Jacun, is a blue dragon. That might be of interest to His Royal Majesty." He considered. "A roguish Fae required my protection on a jaunt to Ecith, although I don't have any useful intelligence from that trip. We were far from any Orkhan population. The same roguish Fae required some assistance finding a certain green dragon as well, for help cultivating some special seed he brought back from Ecith." He paused. "The recurrence of Arcas set up an altar and a magical crystal next door where the seed was planted. The Fae and my neighbor are unlikely friends."

He paused. While, as Sivan's friend, he knew he had carte blanche to walk barefoot through the moon door into his garden sanctuary at will, he would stand up to a prince attempting to do the same without invitation. The Hytori respected the sanctity of the home, even that of a half-breed Len'Hytori.

"If you think that is something you might wish to report back, I can certainly ask him to let you see it up close."

[Rhydian ValKor]

“You have spent more time here than I, but I will confess that in my, admittedly brief, visit to this land, I’ve been surprised to see the dispersal of the mèlange…” He didn’t say explicitly, for he didn’t need to, that he was referring to the elven population in particular. Humans, Orks and other younger races were wont to blithely intermingle, whilst elves as Rhydian knew them, tended to seek solace amongst their own. He’d mused that the Hytori were an avuncular people— happy to see their niece and nephew races in small doses, but disinclined to endure them for more than a few hours.

Rhydian crossed his legs and sat back as Laurevere replied, in earnest, to his open-ended question.

“A favour to whom?” Rhydian inquired, mildly, at the asset’s talk of harbinging death of a parent being the unlikely onset of his relationship with the neighbour. “Were you acquainted with the family?”

“Oh my days!” Rhydian chuckled, “Dragons, Demigods, Fae and trips to Ecith! Your life of late seems terribly exciting. But yea, I should like to observe the object and, more than this, to be made acquainted with some of this colourful dramatis personae that seems to be populating your theatrical life abroad. Are the Fae or the Blue Dragon about? I’ve never met a member of either population…” Rhydian raised his gaze from Laurevere to regard the garden that rather loomed over this smaller satellite plot of land. He tilted his head and sought out signs of any of the fascinating figures recently depicted in Laurevere’s account.

“But please, do not let me interrupt if you have more to report. My observations and introductions can wait.”

[Hekatos]

"To the deceased," he clarified. "And, I suppose, to the son as well. His father had done some work for our family and since he had no other kin, it seemed right to share the news, especially given I would be where he resides. Master Jacun's shop is in this district. I could give you directions or take you there personally, pursuant to your pleasure. As for Master Destynrael..." A long-suffering look crossed his features. "...he most often pops up when least desired, but as he is friends with my neighbor, I could inquire of him should you wish an audience with the dragonfly."

Laurevere considered.

"The Kalzasern government has been overstating their handling of the Eclipse. It is, it would seem, over, but the ramifications continue. My yard was magically protected and so my enterprising neighbor was able to, through deft use of the elements, his alchemy, and negation, grow crops despite the lack of natural light and warmth." If he also leveraged the more robust Hytori response for more favorable terms of trade, well, that was just good business. "Whether it was due to the Eclipse or other reasons, hostilities between Kalzasi and Zaichaer have ceased. Tensions hum under the surface, of course, but the House of the Vice-Minister of Finance offered... hm... humanitarian aid to the Brass City. Now they are trade partners despite Kalzasi's frosty diplomatic stance. The new Shokaze handles himself well all things considered. The shift in power from Great House Novalys to Great House Senue was easy enough, probably due to the nascent divinity of Novalys' new Daikozu. There are whispers of new demigods. Winter... although that might simply be in response to the winter that lasted over a year. And Stars. But the divine are not my bailiwick, alas."

[Rhydian ValKor]

"Mm. Perhaps not the dragonfly, then..." Rhydian replied, wrinkling his nose. He had no great love of buzzing things nor unscheduled encounters. All the more reason for his earnest apologies at dropping in unannounced for this very visit. "The dragon I should like to meet and would be happy to do so on my own, though if you would, at the least, see that I am expected, I would be much obliged." He pursed his lips and clasped his hands in his lap as he listened to the more top-down overview as Laurevere interpreted it.

"Mm. I can imagine an 'altar and magical crystal' hewn by the Demigod of Light must not have hurt your neighbour's comforts against the Void either..." He trailed off, allowing Laurevere to continue. He wondered whether it was to Kalzasi's moral merit or naive detriment that they did not seize upon the hobbling of their archenemy to wholly crush Zaichaer and rebuild it in an image that better suited their cause and culture. The Val'Kor in him could not help but see the myriad strategic advantages to the latter, but the quiet courtier understood there could be some boons associated with the softer touch, as well. Knowing what he did of Kalzasi's politics, he was unsurprised and wondered whether opportunities had merely been overlooked or debated overlong as opposed to it having been a mindful choice in any particular direction.

"Indeed, much is changing..." Rhydian replied, sounding aggrieved at the notion. "I am given to understand that the apostate sand serpents have established an embassy in Kalzasi, as well?" He grimaced unabashedly. Their cult was beginning to burgeon significantly in the North of Auris and, should it take root in Kalzasi, their foothold in Ailizaine would be troubling indeed.