Person of Interest

[Hekatos]

"I do not know whether Master Jacun is aware that I am aware that he is a dragon. I would assume, given he is a dragon, that he is craftier than I. But I can ensure he anticipates your visit."

As for the crystal and its altar, "A boon in dark times, aye, but also a mystery in his home whose mysteries even his sembling eye hasn't quite managed to unravel yet."

And for the Re'hyæan poison, he wrinkled his nose. "It seems they were playing the odds. Reaching out to Kalzasi and to Zaichaer. I suppose they settled on Kalzasi as the winning side, though it was little more than a cold war before multiple tragedies befell Zaichaer." He shrugged off their suffering. It was not so much that he had no compassion, but rather he disliked the culture that aligned more with the Solunarians than did Kalzasi's.

As for the Atraxians and their atrocities, he could only regret the rise of the Clockwork Empire, which distracted the Hytori long enough for the infidels to turn the tables on their human masters and fully entrench themselves. Why the Court of Princes didn't move to destroy them, he didn't know. Perhaps that was why Prince Rhydian was so interested in a dragon. While Laurevere didn't know Jacun well, he doubted he would take any side against Solunarium. But that was above his pay grade, anyway. A Val'Kor prince might just have been sent to recruit dragons to the Hytori cause.

A Val'Kor prince would be a dueling challenge as well, but he did not invite the prince to spar. The longer he stayed, the greater the chance he would investigate Sivan. The Sol'Miaren line was diminished—Sivan's wastrel father had only begotten a child upon a Dratori diplomat—but it was the closest they had to a new Arsoren. If only Sivan would wed a proper Hytori...

[Rhydian ValKor]

"I thank you for that." Should this Master Jacun be likeminded unto Rhydian himself, a bit of fair warning would go a long way. If not, well... It couldn't hurt, could it?

"How odd that they should approach Zaichaer. They seem to represent precisely the sort of arcane dystopia the Zaichaeri project upon Kalzasi, which is dystopian for entirely different reasons." The which he'd observed firsthand during his brief time here thus far, and assumed Laurevere would ken with no further elaboration on the matter. As Laurevere elaborated, he wondered whether the desert elves dismissed their diplomatic endeavour to Zaichaer due more to their weakness than anything else.

"They may yet have designs there. What surprises me is more that they would make a public overture as opposed to insinuating themselves quietly..." That seemed to have been the method used in Auris over a long, slow period of time. The cult had only grown to concerning levels within the past few years, which unsurprisingly coincided with sightings of the hitherto bound gods. But he waved the matter off, as it was not central to his reason for being here and was more a matter of personal curiosity than anything else... at least for the moment.

"Is there anything else you would have me or His Majesty know? It is not my wish to occupy too much of your day, but I was instructed to connect with you..." He trailed off, hoping that Laurevere would be quick to fill the silence he left for lack of anything worthwhile to say or inquire after. The hands in his lap fidgeted slightly in the brief lapse, and he sat up straighter as his eyes danced away from Laurevere to explore the surroundings again, as if he hadn't thoroughly scoured the landscape several times already.

[Hekatos]

Laurevere mused silently, albeit briefly. The prince seemed discomfited by the silence, which Laurevere supposed could be used should he make any pointed questions that the secretive elf truly didn't wish to answer.

"This is conjecture only," he warned, "but I believe Zaichaer and Solunarium have more in common than one might think. There is a lazy, laissez-faire quality about magical regulation in Kalzasi. In Zaichaer, the Order controls it as strictly as an apostate could wish. They seem to have incorporated the covens they once hunted, bringing them under their dubious control. And power has been consolidated largely into the hands of two families: Dornkirk and Angevin.

"The former rose from obscurity as artificers of airships, so much so that an engineer is now their First Minister. His wife, née Angevin, has a ministerial position. Her half-brother, a half-Dratori bastard, has risen to be both an admiral of their fleet and High Sentinel of their Order. The Angevins were a royal line before Zaichaer became a military dictatorship, in fact. A student of history might say they are coming full circle. Perhaps one of their children will be the next king or queen of Zaichaer, and they will ever have an eye on empire. They are already taking a firmer hand at controlling their nominal territory, marking borders."

An eloquent spread of his hand assumed a Val'Kor prince could put two and two together far quicker than he had, and perhaps extrapolate beyond.

"Their rise to power smacks of Varværyn ambition and subjugation to me. It would not surprise me if their perpetual failures of mistborn demigods haven't got their hooks in Zaichaer somehow."

[Rhydian ValKor]

"I take your point." Rhydian conceded, stoically, his eyes dancing down to alight upon a worm-like spirit that squirmed through the grass before them, even as his mind contemplated the parallels deftly drawn between the two oppressive regimes. The one which lauded and the one which loathed the mage... the latter was at a marked and exploitable disadvantage, which likely rendered it susceptible to the influence of the former.

"It is possible, but for how long might this have been going on? Zaichaer has long held its rigid beliefs. Might those have been founded by some remnant of the ill-fated colonisers? Or do you mean to imply that there has been some recent cultural shift which betokens a more contemporary operation?" News had long since reached Ailuin's privy council that the twin gods of manipulation and micromanagement were participating, once more, in the affairs of the world. He'd initially wondered whether they had some hand in the nightmare that was the Eclipse but, if so, it seemed to be more collateral than intentional damage. And the fall of Zaichaer had preceded that ill-starred event... perhaps it had even catalysed it.

"I note your concerns with due gravity and shall bring them to the attention of His Majesty in the unlikely event that such matters have escaped His notice." He paused, lifting his gaze to meet Laurevere's very briefly, before darting toward the neighbour's looming garden.

"Is your late colleague's heir worth meeting whilst I am here? He certainly seems to collect interesting company..." Dratori, Dragons, Dragonfly-Fae, Demi-Deities, "...and you are, of course, included in that company. Have you a free evening to dine this week before it is on to the next stop on my tour? Perchance your friend might join us."

[Hekatos]

"Again," he offered by way of caveat, "my observations are limited and I only make what I consider to be logical extrapolations. I am certain His Majesty and his," he nodded respectfully to Rhydian, "agents would make more cogent conjectures."

Laurevere paused. He might keep secrets from the crown, but he still considered himself a patriot and considered the good of the Hytori people to be of paramount importance.

"But chaos is a ladder, 'tis said. Whether Dornkirk and Angevin create a northern knockoff of Luxium and Umbrium, I cannot say. It bears further inquiry, though."

And then his conjectures proved insufficient to deflect. Fuck.

"I can arrange a dinner, of course. Shall we say here three days hence?"

*~*~*

It was three days hence when a Len'Hytori butler let the prince into the home, saw to his outerwear, and led him through the house and out into the yard. A traditional Hytori home would have cradled a peristyle with some sort of garden or the like; here, at least, the yard had been turned into something similar, a sanctuary from the city where nature and the nurture of knowing hands brought a proper equilibrium for rest and respite.

A fine table had been laid for an informal symposium with an honored guest, and Rhydian found Laurevere speaking quietly with his neighbor. They turned to greet him, Laurevere's bow correct, his neighbor's lower as was proper.

"Welcome again to my home, Your Highness. May I present my young friend, Master Sivan Len'Myren. Alchemist, artificier, and collector of strange friends and acquaintances. Sivan, His Highness, Prince Rhydian of Koiláda ton Spathión."

Sivan did not rise, waiting for the prince's permission. He had wandered far, but he had spent many a formative year in Silfanore.

[Rhydian ValKor]

"Understood and acknowledged." Rhydian replied to the demurring with a tilt of his head, and rose as his unscheduled intrusion seemed to be drawing to a close. He would be less antsy at their next encounter, it being planned in advance.

"Three days, then. I will see myself out. I have usurped enough of your time for today." With that, he turned on his heel and made for the house, reversing the path they'd taken to get to the gardens and returning to the streets of Kalzasi.

*~*~*

Rhydian returned at precisely the appointed time, dressed as formally as he might have for a diplomatic banquet with the Shokaze. It was, to his mind, a display of respect, though Rhydian was not the most fashion-conscious of Hytori. He'd have worn the same thing every day, if court culture wasn't it's own sort of battlefield. Although the outfits varied, formality was a sort of armour he frequently donned in lieu of leather and steel. If he took note of having overdressed for the occasion upon seeing the layout, he displayed no signs of such. He inclined his head to the host, and the guest as he was introduced:

"Elen síla lúmenn' omentielvo." He said, as his eyes rose to appraise the one introduced as Sivan. Finding him still bowing, the hint of a smile crooked his lips.

"You may be at ease, Sivan Len'Myren." He was tempted to exploit his Semblance, but he remembered sensing the Rune on this one when he'd observed the pair from the shadows a few days prior. In another context, he'd not have hesitated, but in the here and now he withheld his Craft.

"Our host has painted such a fascinating portrait of your life, Sivan. From whither do you hail?"

[Sivan]

Sivan's own craft was restrained out of habit and respect; his senses only darted into a person's aura at their request, in imminent danger, or for contextual clues that weren't locked tight behind mental or magical walls. Even after all this time, he didn't know why Laurevere was truly here, though the friendship that had grown up between them remained an honest cover, at least.

"Hara máriessë, calima cundu," he replied before straightening.

Sivan Len'Myren didn't look Dratori. He had the golden sheen of the First Children about him, and looked untroubled and unravaged by age or disease. But perhaps the way the spirits took to him was proof enough that he had inherited spiritwalking from his mud-blooded mother. His dress was appropriate for a moderately prosperous Len'Hytori merchant; no ostentation real ostentation marked him, though the cut of his clothes and the quality of the fabric were fine indeed. He could have been a similar magician back in Aerion, and this an oikos clinging to some rock face in the Lípos range.

Whatever the provenance, the yard was comforting, not because some mesmerizing troubadour influenced the mood, but rather because the spirits of the place existed in harmony and enveloped those corporeal creatures who chose to abide there for any amount of time. The ground embraced the prince's footfalls. The balmy air caressed his skin.

"I was born in Silfanore, Your Highness, and have spent significant time there, though I have been out of Sol'Valen more than I have been in it," he said, continuing in more common, contemporary Mythrasi now that the formalities were complete. "Would you like to see the seedling and the stone now, Your Highness?" He indicated the moon gate between Laurevere's yard and his garden. Sivan assumed it was those tangible artefacts that had interested the prince, and not he himself. In that case, he wanted to ensure that Laurevere was able to provide the prince with what he desired, lest Sivan make his friend look bad.

[Rhydian ValKor]

"Ah." Rhydian was, for some reason, surprised at both Sivan's reply and the affirming dialect in which it was delivered. Though he hadn't put conscious thought into the matter, he supposed some part of him presumed Laurevere's well-established neighbour was a local elf.

"What, may I ask, drew you to building a life in Kalzasi?" He didn't sound explicitly judgemental, even if the tenor of the words may have implied as much. His countenance was just so still, unnervingly so to many of his contemporaries, and it made him challenging to read without scanning his Aura and, even then, he had his defences.

"The seedling and the-...? Ah, yes of course. I'd forgotten about those and when you said it aloud, it sounded rather like the name of a public house. Lead on." The verbiage sounded jovial, but the delivery was flat enough to leave the intended humour of it ambiguous. Rhydian gestured and stood by until the mixed blood guided him to the phenomena in question.

"Would you object to my sembling them?" He inquired, as they drew closer to the illuminated artefact. It was queer to look at. Without needing to exploit his Craft, he could draw the obvious parallel to Dawnfire. That was unsurprising, and surely a formidable boon to stave off the effects of the eclipse... at least in the corner of Sivan's garden it occupied. His eyes darted, next, to the seedling over which it stood sentry.

"And how, precisely, did you come to find yourself with these phenomena on your property? I am given to understand there was a Fae'ethalan involved? And Arcas, withal?" It beggared belief, and even uttering it felt absurd.

[Sivan]

"I followed my master out of Inokova," he began.

"Tavári'nar Val'Gwairil."

"...yes." Sivan flushed slightly at Laurevere's addendum. He hadn't wanted to seem as though he were bragging to a prince. Tavári'nar Val'Gwairil had already been ancient when a younger Sivan met him, and he still wasn't certain what had made the eccentric old enchanter pluck him out of where he had been and make him his apprentice. His name was known throughout Sol'Valen as a paragon of elven magical creativity. That he had left Sol'Valen to wander the north of Ailizane for his final years had been strange but in keeping with his strangeness. If Sivan had a sliver of his genius, then he held great potential.

"I followed Master Tavári'nar for his final travels on this earth. In his last days, he gave me a letter to take to Master Jacun here in Kalzasi, and so after seeing to his final rites, I came here and began to study alchemy rather than artificing. When I completed my apprenticeship, I had considered leaving, but then there were opportunities here."

With a nod, he led them through the circular gate and into his own garden, which was smaller, and certainly more lush. Both sides of the stone wall were still obviously recovering from being hothouses whose main purpose was the production of food for the masses. Sivan's garden was recovering more quickly, seeming almost overgrown in places. Bees buzzed contentedly in their hive in the branches of a great tree. A squealmouse chittered from the branches, then flung itself to land upon Sivan's shoulder, peering curiously at the Val'Kor prince.

"Your Highness may of course semble anything in my garden," Sivan said while they stood beside the altar. Nodding as well to what pieces of information the prince already had, he elaborated. "My friend Destynrael brought a strange seed back from an expedition in Ecith. As he is a wanderer, he asked if he could plant it here. He has frequently been a guest in my home. The erstwhile Shinsei, now Daizoku of Great House Novalys, was revealed as a reincarnation of Arcas. I met him once on the streets of the city, sembling as I walked and woefully unprepared for an undimmed divine aura. We spoke briefly while I recovered. In any case—Destyn wasn't entirely clear on the details—I believe he perhaps invited the then Shinsei to observe the seed. When I returned, this altar and its dawnfire crystal were here. It seemed imprudent to question a Draegir so I have attempted to be a good steward."

[Rhydian ValKor]

Rhydian's eyebrows rose slightly at Laurevere's clarification.

"I see." The details of Tavári'nar Val'Gwairil's final days were not known to him, so it stood to reason he would not have been aware of the sorcerer's last apprentice. This also lent some clarity to the relationship between Sivan and the dragon Laurevere had identified as 'Master Jacun'. He hadn't supposed Sivan had just fallen out of a coconut tree and found himself in service to an ancient being, and Val'Gwairil certainly made for a plausible conduit into that relationship.

"Semble anything, you say?" Rhydian faintly smirked, his eyes travelling up and down the offering elf with an arched eyebrow. "I will infer from that carte blanche that you were not a courtier during your time in Silfanore?" What might have sounded like condescension, actually sounded a bit more like envy when Rhydian delivered it. In truth, he wished he could be more careless with his words and fearless of those political animals that might exploit the verbiage of a friendly offer. Rhydian the Reticent came by that moniker honestly, and his tongue was oft held in no small part due to the pernicious practice of politics in the royal court. Still, he reserved his Sembling gaze for the artefact the illumed the soil before him.

"Destynrael is the Fae'ethalan?" The prince inquired as he delved into the nature of the godly bequeathment. "Do you theorise that the Draegir Daizoku installed this artefact out of interest in the seed or the planter?" A 'strange seed' indeed, if it should elicit such lofty attentions, but the current iteration of Arcas was rumoured to have a soft spot for a comely lad and, from what Rhydian had read, the Fae could be quite striking and wont to charm susceptible marks into doing their bidding. Rhydian would, of course, be on his guard should the swain appear during his visit.