Legend of Ransera

Contrary to Æden's assumption, Khyan was more than satisfied with the answer he provided and he responded with profuse laughter. That was as good a reason as any, in the Patrician's book, and he'd done plenty of random things under the same pretext. Still, the Platinum One seemed inclined to elaborate. Hearing what he had to say, Khyan wished he hadn't.

"Hm." At the less than veiled insult, he pursed his lips into a grimace and averted his eyes from Æden to favour the wine now in his hand. He would defy the content of the jab by not responding to it. Instead he would draw the cup to his lips for a few gulps to make up for the drinking time lost between the Luxium and here.

"That's the goal." Khyan forced a smile, as Æden came to the point of what brought him out this evening in the first place. He wasn't blind to his situation, in the least. He was just doing his best to make the most of the attention he still had, given the very real possibility that the rug would be pulled out from under him any day now. Drinking heavily, socialising constantly- These were his means of escapism. The best therapeutic technique he had at his disposal.

"Indeed." Khyan lifted his glass and inspected the contents. He swirled it a bit, and took note of the legs that lined the bowl after the wine had passed over it. "I'm told it has to do with storing it. They're able to age casks in some of the cooler caverns, or manipulate the climate in those that are naturally more warm. Some particularly scrutinising onophiles say they can tell the difference, though, and that wine aged in naturally cooler chambers is superior." It seemed like a bunch of pretentious bunk to him, and he was a pretentious boy, but he didn't want to insult his benefactor in the event that he subscribed to this ridiculous philosophy himself.

Æden saw how the words made Khyan uncomfortable. Perhaps they were unnecessary, but he didn't feel particularly guilty. He couldn't tell if he recovered from the jab, but he certainly changed the subject. Personally, Æden was not as much of a wine snob as his father, but he liked to stay to some of the traditions his father kept when it came to wine. The naturally cooled chambers full of red wine in the Umbrium, the white wine of the Luxium, which region by the river the grapes came from — they were all rather important to his father. And he insisted it would help his image to be more discerning.

"Some prefer their wine completely mundane, devoid of magical interference in any part of the growth and fermenting process. Grapes grown in naturally fertile river soil, pests kept away through traditional methods. Picked and crushed and fermented in casks in the cooler caves, away from the heat of the volcano. I'm not so picky. But I do still think it tastes better under the surface, whether stored in naturally or magically cooled chambers."

There was a live musician on a stage across the room from them, and though The Silken Hammer was not the only runeforge that would create instruments, he knew there was a good chance that they enchanted the lute and the device the singer was holding that allowed her to be heard throughout the club at the volume she was. And the lute played was one of their higher-end works to boot, one that changed color and so-slightly glowed in a fascinating gradient of colors with every note played.

"What do you do for a living, Khyan?" He asked, though without the intention to draw it towards his own side-work as a runeforger, or even his primary profession with the Praeventores in the Golden Legion. He was curious if he had worked. Æden had forgone a formal education past the extended tutoring he received and his runeforging apprenticeship in his teens to join the Golden Legion and only work with enchantments when he was free, and he was not disappointed with that choice. Khyan was also a man born of privilege, and he wanted to know how he spent it. And even after his insulting jab towards the Vastian, he was curious about him. Considering Æden's prominent witchmarks denoting his negation rune on his left hand, and his typically revealing outfit, he conspicuously only possessed one rune of magic.

Khyan listened to Æden as he appended the explanation the Patrician himself had offered. He was familiar enough with the details, even if he’d demurred a bit in deference to the Platinum One in his own description.

“Perhaps…” Khyan swirled the contents of his cup, regarding the lapping liquid rather than his companion, “But sometimes one is simply in the mood for red, regardless of the environs. I’ve always found trends to be more guidelines than hard and fast laws. There is power in charting one’s own course.” He sipped the wine and sighed contentedly.

Arching a brow at Æden’s query, he had to snigger.

“For a living?” He shrugged and used his free hand to gesture to the one holding his cup. “I live.” It occurred to Khyan, in that moment, that despite the difference in their stations as far as caste, the human might have been the more privileged of the two of them in certain regards. If Æden had not been born to the senatorial class of his people, he likely wasn’t one of the idle rich. His Platinum features might have helped to social promote him in whatever positions he held for work, but they wouldn’t buy him a seat in the senate. That was hard earned over generations by the most storied of families.

“Obviously we didn’t anticipate our current predicament, but I was to succeed my father’s seat in the Senatus Minor. I wasn’t keen to rush into dull duty before my time and, being mostly human, my youthful days are numbered. Leisure has been my living, since I graduated from the Academia Arcabum. Luxian campus, of course…” He tilted his head, conceding,

“I did consider serving the Sentinels, but I took a gap year that never wound up concluding… I found I had plenty to do for myself, before being bound to serve the realm”