Arx Rubrum Petram
68th of Ash, Year 123 of Steel
The events of the Mascerata Regia were what they were. The dust might have settled somewhat, but the repercussions would continue to rebound through the Atraxian empire. The stronghold of the Custodes Deorum might seem calm, an oasis in the desert, but there was an underlying tension. It was their job to prevent assassination attempts, but the schism between the city and the undercity, between elven and draconic crowns, had everything out of order.
It was times like this that Finn most wanted to run away, to be the Farstrider that they called him - at first in jest, and now as a sort of honorific that included his mastery of traversing. Finn Viato in Vastian. But it was also in times like this that he wanted to buckle down, to help, to make matters better. After all, his fiancé was bound to this land. His family had recently moved into his Luxian villa at the invitation of no less than His Exalted Majesty himself, the platinum crownwyrm, Zalkyriax.
His nameless family could live better here, more secure from the dangers of the world than in their lakeside hamlet. His parents could retire, his sibling's family flourish with all the privileges of nieces and nephews of a magnatus, and his brother could, hopefully, find some direction of his own.
It had occurred to him that he might better protect his family, his friends, and his loved ones with the Rune of Negation. Phocion Princeps had offered it to him, but he remembered the abortive boon from his old friend. Liking neither to be indebted nor owed a debt, he had sent word through diplomatic channels that he requested an audience with the Kalzasern god-prince when next he spent a while in the Solunarian capital. Avaerys would brook no other divine marks upon His chosen, save perhaps that of His twin, but Finn could bear a magical, if not divine, mark from Talon Novalys. Perhaps even his runic initiations would be steeped in divine magic for all Finn knew. He certainly found Avaerys' grace bleeding into his song and his Mesmer.
Finn laughed quietly to himself, imagining a shield of holy dawnfire holding against voidborn threats or Orkhan invasion or whatever unknowable threats were lurking on the horizon. But he quieted himself as Talon was expected at any moment.
The courtyard was cooled by the breezes through the fountain and the dappling shade of the palms. It was a serene place if one could forget the turmoil brewing back in the city.
68th of Ash, Year 123 of Steel
The events of the Mascerata Regia were what they were. The dust might have settled somewhat, but the repercussions would continue to rebound through the Atraxian empire. The stronghold of the Custodes Deorum might seem calm, an oasis in the desert, but there was an underlying tension. It was their job to prevent assassination attempts, but the schism between the city and the undercity, between elven and draconic crowns, had everything out of order.
It was times like this that Finn most wanted to run away, to be the Farstrider that they called him - at first in jest, and now as a sort of honorific that included his mastery of traversing. Finn Viato in Vastian. But it was also in times like this that he wanted to buckle down, to help, to make matters better. After all, his fiancé was bound to this land. His family had recently moved into his Luxian villa at the invitation of no less than His Exalted Majesty himself, the platinum crownwyrm, Zalkyriax.
His nameless family could live better here, more secure from the dangers of the world than in their lakeside hamlet. His parents could retire, his sibling's family flourish with all the privileges of nieces and nephews of a magnatus, and his brother could, hopefully, find some direction of his own.
It had occurred to him that he might better protect his family, his friends, and his loved ones with the Rune of Negation. Phocion Princeps had offered it to him, but he remembered the abortive boon from his old friend. Liking neither to be indebted nor owed a debt, he had sent word through diplomatic channels that he requested an audience with the Kalzasern god-prince when next he spent a while in the Solunarian capital. Avaerys would brook no other divine marks upon His chosen, save perhaps that of His twin, but Finn could bear a magical, if not divine, mark from Talon Novalys. Perhaps even his runic initiations would be steeped in divine magic for all Finn knew. He certainly found Avaerys' grace bleeding into his song and his Mesmer.
Finn laughed quietly to himself, imagining a shield of holy dawnfire holding against voidborn threats or Orkhan invasion or whatever unknowable threats were lurking on the horizon. But he quieted himself as Talon was expected at any moment.
The courtyard was cooled by the breezes through the fountain and the dappling shade of the palms. It was a serene place if one could forget the turmoil brewing back in the city.
