Compliance

[Pharaoh]

"We serve here at his pleasure. If he does not communicate with you today it is because he has elected not to." Phocion clarified, after his typical direct fashion perhaps still tinged with some extra sharpness born of yesterday's vexation. He looked on, impassively scowling, as Finn acknowledged the inconveniences he'd engendered by bringing the entity into Solunarium. His expression did not soften, though his thoughts lost some of their sharp edges. He arched an eyebrow starkly as Finn took a knee and instinctively checked the room for abnormalities, since this behaviour struck him out-of-character for a split second.

"Please rise at once. There is no need for these maudlin displays. I am inconvenienced. You have inconvenienced me, but I am perfectly capable of doing my job and managing this threat without sharing my burdens with the Gods themselves. I was alarmed that you would pose such a suggestion and, as your superior and your brother-in-law and all of that, I will suggest that you be very judicious in your direct invocations of Them. Now, we are done with all that." He waved his hand dismissively and cleared his throat, relieved to be returning to the matter at hand.

"As I said, fatherhood becomes you and your shared history in the Warrens... whatever bond you thither forged, paired with your apparent natural ease with children could be useful." He pursed his lips, which at least stopped him scowling as he thought.

"I am not at liberty to tell you the nature of this subject, but I will tell you that, now that she is aware of Solunarium, we would prefer for her to serve the realm than become a tool or weapon against it. I will accord certain liberties, since she is yet a docile child with more of potential than power... A modest home will be provided in the village below this citadel. It will be under constant, albeit clandestine, surveillance. You may chose to dwell there yourself or to populate it with nurturers who will instill comfort, ease and, ideally, reverence for our culture. She will attend school in the village and undergo a proper Solunarian education, again under careful surveillance and with necessary alterations made by our order to account for her peculiarities.

"She may have friends, freely roam the village, lead a relatively normal life, if that is what you choose for her, but she will not under any circumstances visit the capital or any major population centres in Solunarium without express written permission from myself or the Vigilia Magna.

"I will check in personally at least weekly. The ultimate goal in this is to make her a loyal Solunarian asset and for her to willingly pledge fealty to the Umbrian Crown as soon as she reaches a level of maturity at which such a promise is binding in the eyes of the Founders. Achieve this and you will be rewarded. Fail in this, and we will need to explore... alternative options for dealing with this threat. Are we understood?"

[Finn]

Finn rose stiffly, but tried to release what he had been holding onto.

"Verro, domine," he said quietly. Then, after listening to and cogitating upon Phocion's plans, he nodded.

"I would ask to be one of the asset's handlers. We have fallen into a natural bond and the Custodes Deorum ought to make use of that." It had been offered, and now accepted. He relaxed slightly, nodding.

"I do believe that as normal a life as we can give her will yield the greatest probability that she will grow into a model citizen of Solunarium." He supposed that if she was deemed safe enough for interaction with a small village of ordinary citizens, he wouldn't have a quarantine protocol after every visit, but that would likely be something he discussed with the Assessors, as well. If she seemed safe, perhaps he could even bring some of his family by, the better to teach her about family, which was as important for Solunarians as for village bumpkins like them.

He didn't care about rewards, really. What could one get for a God's beloved and the consort of a prince? But if they ever came to the bridge of alternative options, then he might have to push back against extreme measures. But for now...

"Understood."

He paused.

"Am I cleared to meet Arvælyn at the gate?"

It would, he thought, diffuse any ire he might carry with him. He wouldn't mind shielding Phocion from that.

[Pharaoh]

"That was my intention, yes." Phocion affirmed. "The Vigilia Argenti is very good at feigning normalcy. At any rate, she will additionally need some sort of regular presence. Unless you intend to devote yourself wholly to this mission, I will allow you to select an alternative to act as her full-time caretaker. Their background and skills outside of child-rearing are irrelevant, so long as they are sympathetic to the Solunarian ideal."

At the request to meet the Crown Prince, Phocion inclined his head.

"I wish you would greet him, yes, but he usually arrives in the rooftop courtyard." The door opened and a servant pushed a floating cart of trays covered by obscuring silver lids. "He'll be another hour, like as not, so you may break your fast here or take something with you and return to the entit-... the girl." The Sentinel rose from his chair and went to inspect the offerings as the servant lifted the lids to reveal the morning's fare.

After an hour had passed, word reached Phocion that a portal had opened above the citadel. That typically meant the Crown Prince was travelling directly from the Thalamum Draconum. He would Rendezvous with Finn on the rooftop. As much as he'd have liked to have let Finn greet him on his own, there was decorum to be observed, so he traveled with the appropriate complement and stood by with his head bowed as the draconic elf descended from on high to alight upon the tile.

As his half-brother stepped forward, Phocion and his retinue dropped to one knee, heads lowered as the prince made a b-line for Finn and embraced him.

[Finn]

Finn elected to stay to break his own fast as the option had been offered, but he didn't burden Phocion with idle prattle. Almost half an hour was spent there, then that much with Sirena, and still managed to be present several minutes before Arvælyn made his grand entrance. His knee was nearing the ground when Arvælyn caught him up in his arms. He straightened, murmured, "Decorum, Your Exalted Highness," and smiled into his neck. He was never sure quite how much he could relax into affection with his husband while in public, not that he rightly cared who saw, but he never wanted to make Arvælyn look lesser for their association.

And anyway, they could have the Assessors blur this out of Phocion's memory if need be.

"Sorry to worry you," he said, still quietly, not letting go until his husband did. Finn would never let go if given the option.

"The Order had alarums set, and while their wards couldn't stop me, I had to, perforce, return via the Warrens and it took some time to find a safe place to open a portal. Your brother kept me here overnight to ensure I hadn't brought back anything with me that I oughtn't have, lest it spread to you. I am, though, I think, healthy. Just weary."

He would let Phocion deliver a report on Sirena unless Arvælyn pressed him for answers or if the more senior Sentinel deferred to him, but Phocion would be more objective. Finn knew that. Emotion didn't exactly cloud his judgment; he still knew what was smart and what was a risk. And there was his sense of honor. Even he wasn't sure where that had come from.

"Wait..." He squinted at his beloved. "Did you get prettier in a week?"

[Arvælyn]

"I determine what is decorous." Arvælyn countered Finn's chastisement with a smirk that could be heard even if Finn wasn't positioned to see it. With that, he pulled back to look his husband in the eyes, parting his lips to pose enquiries which Finn began to answer before they were uttered.

"Well, I'm certainly relieved to see you hale and whole, this time." That hadn't been the case upon his abrupt return from Hilana's little excursion, but that was water under the bridge, or over the dam, as was said. At the mention of Phocion, Arvælyn glanced to his brother and realised everyone but Finn was still kneeling because he hadn't given them leave not to.

"Oh, all rise." He called to them, but returned his attention to Finn as he flattered.

"Oh stop it. Come. Let's head inside and you can tell me about your trip." He gestured toward the steps leading down and began to make his way forth in that direction. Phocion, now standing, turned to follow behind the prince and his consort.

"I know you went up to Zaichaer because you sensed some echo of Lyra, but we haven't spoken in a week and I have no bloody idea what's been going on with you. I've been beside myself with worry." The prince did not seem to have been briefed on whatever Phocion and his complement determined about the nature of Finn's new ward, or even the fact that he'd returned with such a ward at all. Whether this was an intentional omission, an oversight or due to the other concerns on the regent's plate was, as yet, unclear, but Phocion did not seem to be piping up to address it as being an issue. He was content to follow in the shadow of the pair.

[Finn]

Finn, being mere consort of the crown prince, did not set decorum unless he was moving through a crowd of those considered lesser in station. He still wasn't entirely sure who and who was not his equal or better in the scheme of things, so he erred on the side of conservative. And that was why he didn't sweep said crown prince up in the air and then furiously make out with him whenever he happened upon him. He was so self-controlled. Nobody appreciated that about him.

Veil down and on the arm of the prince, he didn't pretend to be a faceless Sentinel, but he didn't swan about like this was a party either. He kept pace with his prince, who took them to Phocion's office, which was usual rather than presumptuous.

"There was no real way to communicate my progress once I was in," he said apologetically. But he didn't speak for Phocion, even in an attempt to temper draconic ire. Oft meddling, even the good-intentioned kind, only made matters worse. Finn would always do what he could to maintain Arvælyn's filial relations, but always, he hoped, in a healthy way. He could only imagine it would be difficult for an only child later orphaned to feel comfortable with close relations discovered as an adult.

In Phocion's office, he released his hold on Arvælyn, though he wouldn't shake him off by any means. But in Phocion's office, he was decidedly a Sentinel. There were dark circles under his eyes that would require another good sleep or two, but the Sentinel healers had seen to all the minor wounds he had incurred in his flight through the Warrens, and his blacks were pristine, so Arvælyn would be none the wiser to the dangers he had traversed.

"It was not my intention to worry you," he said quietly, then ceded the floor to the princes of the blood. He was rather certain that Phocion outranked him even outside the auspices of their order.

But he could not help being put into situations that might rightly worry his husband unless his husband plucked him from the ranks of the Silver Sentinels.

[Arvælyn]

Phocion followed behind the pair wending their way to his office and, upon entering, he strode to a spot by the window. It was a disparate vista from that which he enjoyed in the Umbrium, but the windows were tinted in such a way as to give it more of a moonlit glow than the true, radiant sunlit desert that spread out in sooth behind the glass. He stood silently with his back to the royal couple as they caught up, half expecting to be sent away from his own office, but waiting to execute his duties if such was asked of him.

"I couldn't even feel your Symphony... It was terrifying." Between his grandmastery and the formal training he'd received in Solunarium, the range of Arvælyn's Mesmer had grown to a staggering breadth. He was particularly attuned to Finn's all-too-familiar Symphony. Perhaps that was why expressions of envy came more rarely these days, or perhaps it was Platinum influence rubbing off on the youngest member of the Flight.

"I'm sure it wasn't your intent, but with so little to go on the mind tends to fill in the blanks in the most unpleasant ways. But what is the meaning of this quarantine situation? Is this about that bloody Ecithian dragon plague again?"

At that, Phocion turned his head to glance back over his shoulder, feeling fiery eyes directed his way.

"I think it were best that Finn explain the situation himself..." Phocion offered with more gentleness in his voice than Finn was accustomed to hearing. Trepidation. He certainly wasn't keen on being the one to tell the Crown Prince of the Umbrium that he'd unwittingly become stepfather to a potential threat to the realm.

"He can fill you in on the details as he perceives them and I'll be in the Palatium later on to address Your Highness' Consilium with the findings of our Assessment."

"Very well, Sentinel." Arvælyn replied, his eyes unnarrowing as they turned back to Finn. "What the devil did you do this time, Finn?"

[Finn]

"Come now," he said, a gentle attempt to ease away this and future worries, "you really think the Warrens or some Zaichaeri wards are going to stop Finn the Fabulous?"

But he sighed, taking Arvælyn's hands in his. "I suppose you were there when Lyra fixed my hand. That's when she laid her mark upon me... Well, it came in useful. She helped me fend off that shadowspawn and get us back to the Vigilia in time to be made whole again. When she left, she left another mark on my throat. You've seen it... barely there, but there... I believe it is through those that she calls. Perhaps someday I will understand how to ward her voice if the need should arise. Phocion gave me the tool; I just need to become adept in its use.

"In any case, she called and I went to investigate. We think she is... an Outsider. Not exactly a God, neither Drægir nor Moritasi, but of a scale. So it was meet I should go, though perhaps I ought to have taken back up. But I'm from Karnor. I can travel more easily in Zaichaer. In any case, I found where she had been hiding, but she was no longer there. I suppose she can leave traces of herself that act... independently... as herself. She was leading me through a crater in the ground toward the Warrens, where there was an arcane—hmm—incubator perhaps. It opened like an egg when I commanded it in her name—a lucky bit of guesswork on my part. Within, there was what seems to be a moonborn girl of perhaps six. Her daughter, we think, whether born of flesh she wore or crafted to house her spirit at some point in the future... I don't know. I could guess, but it would all be supposition.

"So, with the Order coming to investigate, we had to go to ground. Travel through the Warrens, where the slipspace was all... unrecognizable to me. I brought her here because I thought the Custodes Deorum could help, and because I thought she had potential to help or harm Solunarium. I figured that if we helped her, hid and succored her, it was more likely she would want to help than harm. I have put Phocion in an uncomfortable position, but she has been deemed safe enough to live in the village outside the Citadel. I will be one of the people looking out for her because, well, she sort of imprinted on me in the week of our travels. I don't even know if she remembers seeing another face before mine. Her memory seems clouded, though I didn't dig too deeply with my craft; the Assessors are more subtle than I am at that sort of thing.

"The quarantine protocol was to ensure that my exposure to her and to her mothers works wouldn't come back to haunt you, as you are too important to the realm to risk. But they think now... it is safe, or I would have vaulted myself somewhere for more observation before I put you in peril."

He paused, trying to think if he missed anything. Surely Arvælyn would have questions. He hoped he would have answers, but as much as he had used his head, he had followed his heart—a particularly Finnish sort of fault.

[Arvælyn]

Phocion turned around fully as Finn went into a more elaborate account than he'd delivered during his debrief. Arvælyn frowned faintly, which was an expression he wore when he was thinking as well as when he was displeased.

The Princeps Coronam had heard of Outsiders, though he wasn't familiar with the Common terminology. That was not the way such entities were described in Vastian nor the Solunarian dialect of Vallenor. The Common was more generous in its ambiguity than the Solunarian term, which translated roughly to: "Potent Liability". Listening on, his brow would furrow at some of the perplexing scenes Finn described. On the two occasions when Finn left the Dual Realms and Arvælyn was frightened for his wellbeing, Lyra was involved. He might have accepted, once, that in the first instance she had come to play saviour, but not without leaving a mark. The Princeps Draconum did not like that one bit, as the snarl on his lip and black plumes from his nostrils might have suggested.

Phocion's scowl deepened as well, albeit a few beats later when Finn framed some of their interactions differently than the Moonborn, himself, perceived them. He turned sharply toward the window and stalked a few steps toward it.

"I see." The draconic elf said softly, after a long pause pursued Finn's summation. Another silent beat followed those two, ambiguous words of acknowledgement, as he continued to process and ponder what had been related to him.

"So this... child or shard of Lyra, or whatever it is... 'imprinted' on you like some manner of waterfowl hatchling? And she is, what? Awaiting you in the village?"

"Still under observation here at the citadel, Exalted Highness. I will outline my proposal for her integration into the culture before the council later today. Based on our findings and the ambiguity of Sentinel Finn's relationship to the Outsider's marks, I do not believe it wise to reveal the full extent of our findings on the entity to him at this time. I will also add that the quarantine was intended to protect not just your exalted self, Highness, but more vulnerable subjects of your father's Crown, withal."

"Mm. Finn. When you say you'll be 'looking out for her'... Does that mean looking after her or checking in from time to time? I..." He huffed through his nose, dispersing a bit of the smoke that lingered in the air between them, "Is this part of your duty to the Custodes or will you be spending your free time out here now playing nursemaid to a..." He glanced to Phocion briefly, "...whatever she is?"

[Finn]

Finn's gaze returned to Phocion as he elaborated, then back to Arvælyn. He didn't like to think of his husbands emotions as something to be managed, but his draconic nature lent them a dangerous power and Finn still felt the cutting edge of guilt when something he did or said drove his prince to sacrifice slaves to assuage his anger.

He didn't really wish to inspire ire in him at all.

"I have previous responsibilities," he clarified. "To husband, to family, to Vigilia, and to crown. However, she is my responsibility as well. Her mother, a friend, asked it of me. And so perhaps Aniyah will be her primary caregiver, but I will certainly spend some of my time allotted to the Citadel in the village below with her. If ever she proves tractable enough, I might seek permission to move her into the Prædium Sorokys and perhaps integrate her with my parents and siblings. But that is a bridge to cross when we come to it.

"Some priest will teach her to honor our gods; I will teach her to sing to them." He smiled. Perhaps Lyra's daughter would become one of his Leh'anafel; that would be a certain sort of poetic circularity.

In any case, he trusted a happy childhood to make her more inclined to look kindly upon Solunarium, its people, and its gods should she come into outsized Outsider power; using Mesmer to enforce it, even as subtly as some of the Assessors might, seemed like setting an explosive and lighting lucifers for fun. It was only a matter of time before an errant spark set things alight. And, regardless, that seemed like an immoral thing to do to a child.

While he was comfortable now in Solunarian drag, he was still the product of Kalzasi's culture.