Legend of Ransera

"At your earliest convenience..." Arkænyn replied promptly with a wave over his shoulder to Janus as he led the other(s) from his presence.

"Now, then." He clapped his hands together and wrung them as he crossed the threshold into the sitting room. He an anxious servus stepped forward, as the prince turned his back on him and extended his arms. The slave smoothly slid his mantle from slender shoulders and draped it over his arm, as Arkænyn claimed the high-backed seat of honour. He let one of his long, slender legs dangle over the armrest and rolled his head to look at another servant.

"Boots." He rasped, causing the girl to dart over and kneel to begin unlacing the footwear the Sælyan's had deigned to kiss at the demand of their soon-to-be liege lord. To another of the servi his baritone demanded, "Wine. Scorpion wine." The spirit, alcohol infused with small amounts of scorpion venom, was an old Vastian tradition that had been popular in the desert for centuries before finding its way into the capital. It was smooth as wine, but stronger than most spirits and with a different sort of intoxicating effect. If one overindulged it could even become psychedelic in nature.

"Sit." His breath baritone commanded of CicÆros, as the serving girl slid his first boot from his pale foot, and shifted herself to get to work on the other. He extended his arm without looking and a goblet soon found its way into his grasp. He brought it to his lips and tipped it back as his eyes perused Cicæro's fair form from top to bottom.

"You don't have to keep your eyes downcast, now. I know it's tempting to take me in, and I won't begrudge you the privilege. But at least one of you has clapped eyes on the Founders themselves, yes?" He extended his hands presenting himself. "How does the latest model stack up to the originals?" As the serva removed his second boot, he waved her away without troubling himself to look at her. With her head lowered, she collected his boots and backed away to stand against a wall as another approached CicÆros with a less ornate cup of scorpion wine than the one dangling between the prince's fingers.

Arkænyn's leg that was draped over the armrest bounced lazily, as he watched his guest. Now that he was unshod one could see that the pale flesh atop his foot was crisscrossed with witchmarks that extended down through the leg of his trousers. His toenails, like his fingernails, were painted a reflective platinum base over which patterns in black had been laid.

"I envy you." Arkænyn confessed, through an irritated sigh. "Though it is eminently obvious I have been touched by Them, I have never seen Them myself... Only in dreams, but who is to say whether those were visions or the force of my will presenting itself in my subconscious." He grunted, shaking his head.

"No matter. My time will come, and it will be glorious. Perhaps embracing you will be the first step on that journey." He took a sip of wine, then extended the arm holding it toward Cicæros.

"I expect both of you wish to be useful to the Crown. Tell me: How may I use you?" His lips curled into an impish smile that would dismiss any doubt that he was incognizant of the connotations laced into his word choices. There was something darkly playful about the notorious libertine prince. Although he'd been criticised for his early failings as a Solunarian leader, perhaps he was learning his stride by finding ways to make the boring work amusing. That may well have been to Æros' benefit, as it was abundantly clear from the way he unabashedly stared and the placed to which his gaze roamed, that the Prince Regent found Cicæro physically attractive. Of course the ear nibble had likely clued them both into that moments earlier.

Arkænyn sniggered.

"I would be disappointed if They were predictable." He replied, with amusement, but there was a softening to his expression as the other expressed faith in him. He seemed almost disarmed by the sentiment.

"Then perhaps both of us... all of us are victims of underestimation." He looked absently over his shoulder, "My arrival should have been a singularly epic moment in our history: The first Platinum child of a sitting sovereign coming home to roost. Instead, my moment, like my mother's second throne, was usurped by the Zalkyrians." He snarled, running the slender fingers of his free hand through his platinum hair,

"Though I am a rarity, my counterpart is rarer still... and though our stories have commonalities, in the eyes of the realm his bloody horns and wings trump my fair hair and, how did you put it? 'Exquisite' violet eyes..." He trailed off, downing his wine and extending the goblet in a wordless command for a refill, which was promptly delivered.

"Now, that is an interesting notion..." Arkænyn replied, at the proposition of Æros donning different flesh to suit his desires, "Though I do quite like this flesh. I think I like its owner, as well... When you join my privy council I will need you to have a consistent form. It would be too... jarring to have you wearing different bodies day by day. You will give me options and I will select the face and form I favour. I like to be surrounded by pretty things, don't you?" He paused,

"But, more to the point: On what matters do you think yourself authoritative enough to advise me? I will be candid with you. My interest in you, Æros, derives from your direct connection to the Founders. I look for signs and portents in the world around me and you may be my inroad. My sources have informed me that my counterpart, his lover and his brother all bear Emblems. I refuse to believe that this is some sort of endorsement of the Phædryn claim over that of the Unbroken Line. Næ... this is a lesson. We are being taught that we have forgotten the tenets of our Faith. We have become stagnant, whilst the Phædryns were crafty... hungry." He leaned forward,

"I am hungry, too. I will not hide away in this desert palace for the centuries of my life content to sip scorpion wine with pretty boys, when there is a world of faithless, misguided heathens who must be brought to heel. If half of my birthright must be griped from my grasp by the dragons, then I shall have to expand my domain in other directions. How will you help me achieve this?"

Arkænyn laughed grimly at that first query.

"You'd be better received by the other members of the Consilium if you selected from my kin, but alas... That would be unbecoming. No. You may choose from outside your family, but do favour us with a full-blooded Re'hyæan form. We would not wish for our subjects to believe we have compromised our scruples out of desperation in response to the Zalkyrian annexation of the Umbrium. I am still new enough that my moves are under particular scrutiny. Perception is everything." Arkænyn shrugged at the second question.

"Just be clever. If you need me to command it, select someone from amongst my subjects who will not cause collateral damage to vex me for my troubles. You may send me portraits from which to narrow the options... or use your Craft of Masquerade to display their images." Arkænyn's lip curled up in a slight snarl at Æros' subsequent wording.

"Weak? My primary deficiency is a lack of opportunity and a rival Crown that has been paving their path for decades, whilst I was a ward in Auris... They were about this work even before I was born." He bit his lip, as Æros elaborated on his knowledge of the Emblems. As the ghost continued on, his smile returned, spreading broadly.

"I ask how you can help me, and you tell me how I can help you." He guffawed at this realisation. "He of the Sceptre would laud your ambition, even if She of the Scourge would balk at the unsubtle manner with which you present it. I have no authority over the Sentinels. To reclaim your... crystal is it? I would either have to beg, barter or burgle. I do not beg. I will not burgle. However, if you find me something they want that I have and am willing to part with? I shall consider it."

He pursed his lips, his dangling leg ceasing to bob back and forth.

"Working together?" He sucked some air through his teeth and sighed. "Prithee do not mistake the abounding largesse I display in condescending to imbibe with you for some manner of equipoise between us." His lips smiled, though no sign of joy was present in his purple eyes, "I. Am. Peerless. You will work for my advancement and be happy to do so because it is the natural order of things. If it pleases me to reward you, I will do so." His eyes darkened, and he hissed: "But don't you dare expect it." After a beat, his smile returned and his tone lightened and he chuckled.

"Of course not! What did I just tell you before we quit your uncle's presence? One must be certain to leave time in the day for recreation. And I would like to wax recreative with Cicæro. He is so enticingly timid in my presence. He is not so brazen as you, Æros. A lovely trait in an advisor, to be sure, but as the day grows late I find myself losing the mood for counsel. Actually, why don't you flit off somewhere and leave Cicæro and me to get acquainted?"

Arkænyn nodded, in response to Æros' assurances.

"So you do." He replied blithely as he lifted the goblet to his lips for a taste of scorpion wine. He tipped his head back as his tongue began to tingle whilst he rolled the liquid around in his mouth.

"If the Sentinels are in possession of this crystallised Rune, then they'll have studied it no doubt, with the intention of learning to recreate the process." He frowned at this notion. "If they haven't yet found a method, they'll never give it up- If they have, then it isn't worth what it was." He grunted in displeasure. This was too heady a topic to contemplate in his current mood.

"Good boy." The prince was assuaged by the apology and clarification, it seemed, though he grimaced at the complications presented to his request. He paused at length, and pondered. Slowly his lips curled into another of those smiles that didn't quite make it to his violet eyes.

"Is that so?" He released his grip on the goblet, which remained aloft levitating at his side as he undraped his leg from the armrest, drew his knees together in front of him and leaned forward to stare at CicÆros.

"What a compromising flaw that is for you both... so, if you were to depart from him he would be left drained and helpless? Melting from the chair onto the floor and lying there like a rag doll?" The grin found its way to his gaze.

"You know, Mummy never did send me any dolls to play with when she shipped me off to Auris. Do you think I'm too old to adopt the habit?" His smile broadened until it cracked into laughter.

"I see why you were drawn to the senate, Æros. The politicking, the bargaining, the backtracking and backroom dealing. Alas, it is not a matter of what can be appealing, it is a matter of what I am in the mood for right now. And being denied is rarely something I enjoy." With a little giggle he straightened his back, sat upright and crossed his legs, placing both hands on his lap.

"Will you be able to use that shrewd political acumen to appease me with something else, or will you give me what I asked for?" He wrinkled his nose as his expression took on a look of mock consolation, "Because I've got to say your pretext for being disinclined to obey me sounds like a you problem that doesn't really have a downside on my end."