Legend of Ransera

"Your parents..." Arry grinned, chuckling slightly but not unkindly, "...star-crossed lovers." He wasn't sure if the term translated to Vastian, but he said it literally and hoped for the best. It seemed fitting, somehow, if Æros' life was to be deemed a tragedy. It made it sound grander and more beautiful to call it 'star-crossed'. As an actor, the Golden Elf had always favoured the heart-wrenching beauty of an avoidable tragedy, over the fickle, fleeting amusements presented by a comedy. Laughs came cheaply, but tears? Those took real work.

Arry took a moment to process the latter part of Æros' statement. 'Fetishisation' was a bit beyond his current level of Vastian education, but reflecting upon it in the current context he found it similar enough to a Common root that he was ultimately able to suss out his full meaning and, when he did, he let out a knowing sigh and nodded profusely.

"I too have been... regarded in this way. Boys like me are not common where I come from." Gods knew he'd been fetishised during his time working the stage and, naturally, the back rooms of the Velvet Cabaret in Kalzasi. They'd enjoyed highlighting his exoticism with skimpy costumes in Sol'Valen styles, and rile crowds up with the notion that he was some princeling from a far off land. The life of a chorus boy seemed more distant than Sol'Valen from Kalzasi, now... and in these new environs he was more exotic in some ways, and les in others.

Arry chuckled and shook his head, at the talk of language talents and ineptitudes.

"I apologise for my Vastian! I know that my accent is strong, but it sometimes is a disservice. Pronouncing well leads people to believe that I am more fluent. So, when I mix up words or stare blank at their heads, they think I am broken-brained." He shrugged and laughed at his own expense, hoping that he was making sense. Or that, if he wasn't making sense, it was at least funny. In this instance, linguistic mistakes might impart his meaning just as well as flawless diction, since he was really just saying his Vastian was quite flawed.

"My father, in the Sentinel Order, commands respect." He explained. Gens Sorokys was not terribly well known, but the Sentinels were a cagey bunch. It was one of the only organisations in Solunarium where caste was largely disregarded, and their espionage work rendered them quite secretive indeed. He didn't expect his neighbour in the podium to recognise his faux-father by name, and he certainly wasn't going to broach his actual mother.

"You should be pleased with your body." Arry confirmed with a firm nod, "Not many people I know have skin that is so, um... artful?" He gestured broadly, but he assumed it would be obvious what he meant. In case it wasn't, he added: "Stars in motion." He took in a deep breath at the question posed, but he did not shirk it. He was swapping a few things around, but substitution made for easy, retainable lies- if you could even call them lies.

"She died. I had to discover on my own... with help from a friend. I came to Tertium, and..." He shrugged, "My father was pleased to see me. I knew not what to expect, but I am pleasantly surprised. Life is, for me, better here." He paused for a beat.

"And your father. You have met him, or no?"

"Oh, no..." Arry shook his head, "I spent the, um... recent years in the land of-..." He couldn't for the life of him remember whether he'd ever learned the Vastian word for Avialæ. After stuttering for a moment, he just decided to describe them: "...titanic bird boys?" He watched Æros’ expression to make sure he caught the gist. He'd only seen one since coming to Solunarium, and Raithen was far shorter than those he'd seen in Kalzasi, but he knew they were famous for their paucity of females, so specifying their maleness seemed apt.

"Kazasi." He elaborated, in case the 'bird boys' didn't make that apparent. He recalled learning on his first day in Tertium that Vastians didn't pronounce the L in Kalzasi, which had fascinated him for an hour or so. He wondered whether the man misspoke, but after asking around it became apparent that it was a universal theme. For reasons he couldn't explain, he found it terribly amusing.

"You are kind to say so." The elf acknowledged with a grateful nod. His eyes turned to the crowd beyond. Across from where they sat, he could see the stadium was really filling up- A sea of faces lit bright by the false moons. His eyes darted to the royal box, but still- No sign of occupants.

"I will start quite small, um no... Low in the pecking order." He explained. "I have much to learn before I may be considered a Sentinel." It felt like a monumental task, in truth, trying to learn a language, martial arts, improving his old runes and acclimating to a new one. It was especially challenging for one who'd never had proper, formal schooling. He'd been educated at home by an alcoholic parent who'd left large gaps in his schooling, and then he'd gone out and learned a lot on his own based on whatever interested him for a spell.

To the acknowledge of his compliment and that offered him, he only smiled and nodded. He was growing a bit distracted by some activity in the arena before them, as labourers started to prepare the sands for the battles to come. The question about his mother (in truth his father) drew his eyes back to the man at his side.

"Yes... I lived alone for a while. I lacked... compass? Mm, no- Direction. That was when I moved to Kazasi. I chanced to learn about Solunarium and a friend found... Fuck, what is the word?" He rapped his fingers on his knee for a few moments and sucked his teeth once, "Clues! He found clues that led me here. My family met me at Tertium."

Martial, percussive music began to sound in the levels above them, perking the pointed ears of the elf and he sat upright, anticipating some activity was soon to begin. Still there were workers on the sands, so he didn't imagine things were set to begin any instant.

"Do you hope to meet him one day? You can, perhaps, as I did find clues." That word was known to him now, having fished for it moments earlier.

"Do you know who will fight this evening?" Arry had no frame of reference, but he was intrigued as to whether any of the combatants they were to see had any level of fame. If he enjoyed this style of sport, he would need to add it to the list of things he had to learn about.

"Oh." Arry blinked. Of course Avialæ was a cognate. It even sounded Vastian. It had the little 'æ' they seemed to love so much and everything. He might have been embarrassed, but he just had to laugh along with his companion, realising how absurd his phraseology had been.

"Really?" Arry was surprised to hear there was any interest in his former home this far afield of it. He wondered whether Phocion's diplomatic trip had anything to do with it, but he hadn't time to ponder that for long before a question was posed.

"Kazasi was..." He'd have been searching for the words even if they'd been speaking Common, "...good to me. Better at least than other places I have been." He'd been able to reinvent himself there, even if it had taken a long time, a lot of work and more compromises than his dignity was keen to suffer.

"In some ways it mirrors Solunarium. Magic is accepted, but not as abundant, and there is a ruling minority. Avialæ, though, instead of Elves. In contrast, there are many, many races living under the rule of the..." He cracked a grin and revived the prior nomenclature with which he'd dubbed them, "...titanic bird boys."

"Mm." Arvælyn nodded, eyes still scanning the arena as he spoke, "I have a great deal of help in my, um... enterpri- No, endeavours. So, if I don't succeed, it will be entirely my own fault. I hate to be embarrassed, so I shall see to it that does not, to me, happen." The talk of Tertium drew his gaze back to Æros, as nothing of note seemed to be transpiring on the sands.

"I can understand that. Even having just been reared in, uh... cold land, heat is hard. Not like for you, naturally..." He conceded. "But we rode a barge up Vasta from there to here. Beautiful trip." He imagined there were portals as well, but he knew those and commercial Traversers could be prohibitively expensive abroad. It was likely so here as well. Perhaps even for a noble, like Æros.

"I understand. I was fortunate. In my case, the past me found. Er, no- The past found me. Sorry. Grammar hard." A fanfare sounded and an announcer stepped onto a balcony just below the royal box, and proclaimed that the fight was about to begin. Arry wrinkled his nose in disappointment that he still wouldn't get to see a member of The Unbroken Line.

"Ah, well I think we're about to find out!" The Golden Elf smiled excitedly as he watched and listened to the announcer run down the program for the evening. It seemed they were to start with a melee between gladiators new to this tier of arena. The last five to survive would move up the chain and battle against more seasoned gladiators who were masters of various disciplines. Mages, martial artists and everything between.

"This should be fun! These matches are, I take it, always to the death?" He didn't seem particularly troubled at the notion. The quesiton was posed matter-of-factly enough.

Arvælyn nodded.

“Indeed. Mind you, I don’t pretend to understand all the ins and outs of politics in my former city. I was equivalent of peregrinus there.” Far, far from any position of power in their government, unless the sway of his lover’s symphony dedicated to its prince could be considered such.

“It was not per se hereditary monarchy, but I believe the prior several Shokaze- this is what they call their monarch- were all of same Gens. Novalys.” He offered, in case the Fae was interested. “But I understand it to be a sort of electorate somewhat akin to your… or rather our Conclave here.” He would have to get used to thinking of himself as a member of this society rather than an outsider.

“Sorcery there is still quite regulated by the Solunarian standard, and mages are, I believe, fewer. Hard to tell- less likely to show off?” He wrinkled his nose. He really wanted to say ‘broadcast’ but was unclear on the Vastian term. ‘Show off’ carried connotations he didn’t intend. He unmasked a bit of his Symphony to help clarify the intent behind his broken Vastian, though digging beyond the surface of their discourse would be rebuffed by the Master mage.

“In the North they are less like to brook the risk of initiation.” He clarified. It made sense. The social rewards were greater here to complement the Craft, and after years of what was essentially eugenic selection, the surviving population had a higher rate of success than most.

“I’ll admit…” Arvælyn began, “I expected Umbrium be cooler. I forget, though… Volcano close.” He chuckled, turning his attention forward as the thunder of the rising gates and the war cries of over a score of gladiatorial hopefuls signaled the beginning of the melee.

He smiled and clapped his hands with boyish excitement. His very first foray into spectating one of Solunarium’s foremost pastimes. How fun!

“Oh interesting…” Arvælyn’s gaze was scanning the chaos of the battle- the flash of arcane fire, the glint of serrated steel. The crowd erupted in cheers at the first kill. Not far from their alcove in the podium, the arc of a khopesh parted a man’s head from the rest of him, sending a spray of blood into the air. Arry winced as the rain of red flew toward his face, but it disintegrated against an unseen ward before reaching him. He blinked and grinned, applauding the deft kill with the rush of adrenaline that coincided with his surprise.

“Well!” He had to yell to be heard now, “Whatever the whims of the combatants, the preference of the audience seems clear enough!” And, from the lowest castes watching from the rafters, to the nobles in their lavish boxes: Solunarium demanded sacrifice.

"I have learned very much since here coming. I regret that I came so late to Solunarium..." Arvælyn cast a brief smile toward Æros. The smile remained and broadened as he sharply returned his gaze to the arena, where a Kineticist was executing a deft manoeuvre to off-set three simultaneous attackers with a large burst of æther that set them off balance. With a balletic pirhouette, the mage opened all three of their bellies with a single sweep of his scimitar.

"Fæx!" He exclaimed, wide-eyed, joining the applause elicited by the attack. The Kineticist basked in the applause, offering a flourishing bow to one side of the arena, as a Traverser appeared behind him and split his head down the middle with a hatchet, before winking to the audience and blinking to the other side of the sands. Arry was just as shocked as the late Kineticist had been. His smile faded a bit, as a traumatic recollection pierced the moment.

It was the quickness of the chaos that struck him. The violence in and of itself didn't appall him. As it had been explained to him, these people were convicted criminals or volunteers. Solunarium seemed nothing if not exacting, so he had more faith in its justice system than he might have in others. To him, whatever happened seemed like some sort of fatalistic comeuppance- Or so he was able to rationalise it to suit his amusement. It was all rather remote, as he'd never taken a life... At least not directly or by his own hand.

But the rapid assaults, the sneak attacks, the unpredictability started to bring to mind Talon's reception in Kalzasi. It was difficult to remember much of that night when he tried to, but in moments like these little shards of those memories would fall on him like sleet- Cold and sharp. He winced at the thought of Finn's face, fresh off his own trauma, as he reacted to the surgical strike of Kalzasi's assailants. The abduction of the prince, the death of the king... He had to shake off the effects of the memory to return to the present, hoping that his outward reaction hadn't been stark enough to strike Æros as odd. His smile returned, and he applauded- A bit less emphatically, now.

"Yes..." Thankfully, the words of the fae were grounding and he'd posed a question the focus of which could help bury those unruly, interloping memories. "I always understand fae are, um... stup... stip... Steeped! Steeped in magic, yes? I think it should help initiate." He nodded, sagely.

"How do you prefer to spend your time in Umbrium? My amatus performs there. He is musicus."