Legend of Ransera

A part of him wanted to chastise Arvælyn, a humorous part, but also a part that wanted to glow with Aværys' own radiance. He kept that part in check, thinking it would be better to allow the brothers Phædryn to bond. Finn had already gone through his pack, but went through it again in case anyone had added or removed anything; he oversaw the others, as well. He refrained from checking every buckle and strap of armor, though he was in a heightened state now that all these people depended upon his leadership

"It will be good to have two for aerial reconnaissance," he was saying, "but Raithen, do be careful. In magical null zones, it is quite possible you may be grounded Avialæ wings are magical in nature. That's why most shapeshifter mages can't just put on similar wings and fly." This was, quite possibly, already known, but he was doing his due diligence. "Arvælyn's, I think, should be untroubled by null fields."

When everyone seemed ready, Finn concentrated, remembering where he had last been in the Zonam, and wove the slipstream to his will; a portal opened without fanfare, and he led the way across the threshold.

"Move out."

When his last little duckling had waddled through, he tied off the weave and let it dissipate. With a curt nod, he led them through the outpost that had grown up around the familiar cavern. There was little reason to waste time there in the so-called civilized presence. This was where they would fall back if they got separated, injured, or similar.

"Decius?"

The Sembler nodded, opened his senses to the environment, and then to Finn and the others. Through his Rune, they were able to sense the shape of the caverns ahead. Each of his unit had a map in their pack; the maps were based on those he had begun when spelunking with Cetus. Cartography had become a necessary skill when Zef initiated him into Traversion. He nodded.

There was a thrill of eureka from Decius when he found the nearest slipspace beacon. He glanced at Finn, who nodded.

"Excellent. The first one is within reach, at least."

This time, he concentrated all the harder for how the aether flowed differently down here. Once he had the connection secured, he double- and triple-checked everything to ensure he hadn't left anything to chance, and then opened another portal. This one crackled occasionally around the edges, and he held up a hand to forestall crossing until, between his own sense of the slipspace coupled with Decius' input, he was able to ensure it was safe.

"All right." Once again, he took point. If he had fucked up somehow, he would be the one to suffer, not the others.

Once through, he carefully unraveled the weave of aether that maintained the portal, not wanting the disorder to cause any strange reactions. Then he looked to Decius, who was already scouting ahead. He shook his head even as Finn was able to examine the shared Sembling.

"Now, we walk."

"Down here," he said to Raithen with a smirk, "I'm the Crownwyrm." The other sentinels froze, but it didn't last. They could hardly fault an empyreal lord for blasphemous humor. Aværys Invictus would smite him or not; best stay out of it. "Please do err on the side of anything I say being an order while on mission. You can go aloft and get a bird's eye view while we investigate the campsite..." Arvælyn already was, and Decius had that look in his eyes when he was dropping into a half-trance to tune out the obvious and focus on the subtle. "And we will have you scout regularly, but as we don't know what we are getting into and there is the possibility of your magic and your wings failing you, I don't want you often so high that you could be damaged if you fell."

There was a hint of his genuine care and concern held into place by command, if not Command.

He nodded to Raithen, allowing him the upper reaches of the cavern should he choose, and went to attend to Arvælyn, who was vomiting dragonfire to light a torch.

"Showoff," he muttered fondly for the prince, who could have as easily excited the torch to flame with mere elemental magic. But his thespian's roles were now circumscribed by necessity, so he didn't mind him getting to play adventurer, spelunker, and dragonborn pyromancer if being a prince was growing occasionally wearisome.

He glanced back at Decius, who stood rooted by the beacon, and the others, spiraling out from there with precise steps as they had all been taught to investigate anything from a crime scene to a ballroom.

Then, back to his husband, "Any insights, my love?" His own gaze was slowly taking in the scene. "I am trying to empathize with these highborn youths... I suppose they saw this as a game, much like the games they seek to play in court. Showing off for their proctors. Making a name for themselves above and beyond their family names..." There was no judgement in his voice; he was trying to step outside his own upbringing to think like them, to better anticipate what they might have done, and how the evidence might help him reverse engineer the situations they faced.

Like a good captain, he tried to make best use of the human resources at his command. Once they made the mental shift to the fact that their prey had likely deliberately obfuscated their path. Decius reported the odd magical ruse. The more mundane trackers caught several details that the youths had likely not considered, so focused on magic were they. Space permitting, he let his winged boys fly.

Like good soldiers, they obeyed, even when they passed through a rocky corridor where he demanded utter silence, certain without knowing how that too much noise would trap them under falling rock. If they thought he was wrong, at least they complied, and better safe than sorry.

At the beacon, he looked up in time to turn his face away as Arvælyn's wingbeats kicked up dust. But he considered the question for a moment before deciding and raising his voice so they could all hear him:

"We camp here. I'll take first watch, and I will open us a portal when we have all rested. If it opens into danger, we will, at least, be be fresh."

Finn didn't shirk when it came to setting up a spartan camp, and they at least ate together. Princes ate the same as paupers here.

Before anyone fell asleep, though, he took advantage of the beacon to trace a path through the slipspace back to a Sentinel safe room where they could send the various fossils and other bits and bobs they had collected for perusal by experts. If they were all cleared and not deemed too valuable for archaeological research, he hoped to give one to Syrena, and one to Hilana. He thought they would appreciate them.

He wasn't planning to fuck with reaving on this trip. There was too much opportunity for drastic failure that could put him out of commission, and he was not going to fail his small company. But he was well enough armed as he walked a circuit, right around where he felt the range of the traversion beacon begin to fade.

There were echoes of symphony, perhaps those of the students, but voidrillium or something else had made them too chaotic to read, really. He didn't let himself. That way lay madness, perhaps.

Finn had certainly appreciated the airborne intelligence throughout the day of travel. And once the camp was set up—palatable aromas rising from Decius' camp stove—Finn was content they should be able to relax a bit, eat, and then sleep while he kept watch. He knew Arvælyn did prefer his creature comforts, but Finn did enjoy occasionally roughing it, remembering how to thrive with less.

The sometimes bard began to play. His camp song gently urged his men to take their ease, the better to have restorative sleep, and, of course, when the brothers were speaking, he introduced a bit of a bridge to bridge the emotional gap between them. As always, his Mesmer was gentle, a suggestion, rather than a Command.

His lips pursed slightly as Arvælyn answered. "Demerit for Subvigil Arvælyn," he tsked quietly, but smiled. "I doubt we will be able to rely upon a Mesmer net, but we can set it up before we move out on the morrow and see." If anything, the abjinurium and voidrillium and whatever other deleterious dragonshards hereabouts would disrupt the magic rather than harm them. While he knew there were Assessors to rectify any mental or emotional damage they might incur, he would rather just avoid causing it in the first place.

Finn's smile was soft as he listened to the joke at Phocion's expense. Sometimes he would hum a quick harmony with his music, but it was largely pleasant background noise. His own rapport with Raithen had felt easy, even too easy when he initiated him with a Rune and they had ended up in the Ætherium for a while. Phocion had been a harder nut to crack. He wasn't even certain he had cracked him so much as he had slowly proven himself useful and trustworthy and so that slow trickle of shared confidence had grown to a perceptible relationship.

Marriage was different here from what he knew, and so, it seemed were all familial relationships, and even family.

Finn would eat with his men, and eventually send them to their bedrolls while he kept watch. One concession to love would be pillowing his prince's head in his lap if Arvælyn wished it, then spooning him—or being spooned—until "day." He didn't anticipate trouble from the lack of signs, but he was always prepared given circumstances could change.