Legend of Ransera

"No, I apologize," he countered. "Len'Hytori matters wouldn't interest you, of course."

His Dratori mother had ensured he never wanted for anything, except the sort of acceptance he hadn't known how to articulate. When he returned to Sol'Valen as an adult, business had been a skill he needed to hone to survive and he was still rather inept there. Sivan didn't admit that he and his wunderkind partner relied upon a minor to oversee their finances.

He flushed slightly at mention of the princess; his meeting with her had been one giant social faux pas as well. Not only wasn't he fit for public consumption; he certainly wasn't fit for royal consumption. But if His Royal Majesty approved of him, well, that was confusing. Sivan wanted to ask for clarification, but daren't. He would simply have to remain baffled by high social interactions.

"Ah, well... I spent my extreme youth in Silfanore, my youth in Dalquor, and my young adulthood in Silfanore, except without any, ah, familiar support. I feel... off balance here. There is much I love here, but in Kalzasi, if I am not entirely comfortable, I am an oddity among oddities. And here I am floating in a most peculiar way." He paused. "I apologize again. I am not as articulate as I would like to be."

Sivan sipped his tea, wishing he could emulate Prince Rhydian without feeling foolish. The other elf seemed cool and collected at all times, even when surprised by a mithril-edged tantō.

Sivan did, he thought, catch Rhydian's drift.

"You make me sound like a haiku," he noted with a smile. "I like that. Thank you."

An anchorless, storm-tossed ship, nevertheless, Sivan made harbor once more in his first home, his fatherland. It was certainly a new experience as a more accomplished adult. He was sure of himself when it came to alchemy thanks to his draconic master, which kept him from capsizing when the masters were more critical of those parts of the artificing he hadn't learned before their master's soul had sailed for the Grimlord's berth.

He had solid friends he could count on: Laurevere, a noble; Torin and Destyn, foreigners he could take care of, forgetting his own anxieties.

And even though he made mistakes and was nervous, he seemed to have attracted royal notice and not embarrassed himself or his masters. He would have to remind himself of these things as the next time those anxieties sought to besiege his mind.

"Do you find...?" He paused, unsure whether he ought to ask, but deciding to ask all the same. "Do you find that dancing with your blades teaches you how to do battle with yourself?" He frowned. "No, that's not it. We oughtn't to be at war with ourselves, but perhaps the discipline of the martial arts... Did they lend themselves to your confidence?"

There were a great many things other than defending himself he had learned from Laurevere in the guise of swordplay, but the Val'Hytori warrior didn't always opine on the philosophy of it. He seemed conflicted about a great many things, and Sivan often chose not to press him. But Rhydian surpassed Laurevere at blades and also, perhaps, with the attendant wisdom that came with such mastery.

The prince owed him nothing, but it didn't hurt to ask.

Sivan nodded, internalizing the martial prince's wisdom.

"Form ever follows function," he quoted. Then, "My Master used to say that. It is a maxim in artificery. One crafts the form to the function one expects of the golem. Then, when training it, teaching it, its external reality informs its internal reality. If the artificer has crafted a form proper to its function, the golem will more quickly and more fully become what it was intended to be."

Of course, this got more complicated as the golem got more complex, and he could only imagine it was more so with an actual elf.

"A roundabout way of translating what you said into the language of magical design." He smiled faintly, setting his cup down as the prince seemed content to serve him as well. As practice, he tried to play it off as entirely normal that a prince of the blood should be pouring his tea.

Perhaps he could be more unflappable with practice, like Rhydian, like Laurevere, like even the Len'Hytori among the masters at Tavárinoikos.

"Perhaps someday you might show me a trick or two with a tantō? Laurevere insisted I learn katana for wider spaces and wakizashi for closer quarters, and both for versatility and adaptability. But I imagine a knife fight must be a different sort of dance."

His language was careful, making no demands. They had established that there was no debt accrued, but Hytori of every stripe were taught that hospitality and gift-giving could form virtuous circles. It was a hand offered and Rhydian could gracefully accept or decline without fanfare.

"There are worse things to be equated with," he noted with a quiet smile. Certainly, golems made more sense to him, and he knew all the reasons why it might be considered an insult, but that wouldn't make it particularly sticky for him on the receiving end.

Sivan didn't notice himself doing so, but he leaned forward slightly as Rhydian waxed prolix—at least for him—about subject near and dear to his heart. His mien thoughtful, he nodded as ideas came to him unbidden.

"To each task, a suitable tool. For each tool, a different mastery." The gentle smile bloomed again, briefly. "I look forward to it."

As for Aerion, "Twice, I think. Briefly to make deliveries from the workshop to clients. Apprentices aren't given time to enjoy the sights, though. Perhaps I will see it again with more time free to explore." He didn't correct the prince as to his mercantile interests. He was only too happy to let Timon manage the workshop's finances, and Timon wasn't even a man grown yet, no matter how much a curmudgeon he already was.

"My partner, the runeforger, has more practice crafting weapons. I supply alchemical reagents for some of the runeforging processes. After we sparred for His Majesty's pleasure, he wants to make me a set of weapons arcane. I suppose that will double my practice requirements: practice with mundane blades so I do not become dependent upon enchantments, and practice with enchanted blades so whatever qualities they possess, it will be second nature to utilize them. No mithril for mine, though, I think."

Perhaps a tantō, though. He could grow accustomed to having that slung through his belt everyday. It would feel less odd than walking the streets fully and visibly armed.

"I wonder if he would like contracts from Aerion," he wondered quietly aloud. The idea of creating war golems wasn't ideal, though. Even if they were only used in defense of civilians, he would be creating life for the purpose of death and that didn't seem correct.

Sivan wasn't certain he had communicated what he meant correctly given the prince's response, but then he didn't know him well enough to gauge that, not without sembling, which would have been rude coming from a social lesser.

"In my heart of hearts, I want to be a generalist," he admitted. "I realized I could earn more coin by making strategic choices, but my work has earned me quite a bit in Kalzasi. I could continue to follow my whims and never want for coin. And if the Masters of Tavárinoikos deem me skilled enough to complete my apprenticeship and I continue to do good work, I would have all the honor a Len'Hytori could desire without loving honor too much. Desiring more too much."

He frowned into his tea for a moment. Whether his ambitions were not ambitious enough, he didn't know. He knew he was already more than competent, but he also knew his place in the world.

"I would carry his weapons with me, I think, both to advertise his skill and because one always wants one's best tools to hand. But for practice... I suppose the instructors that have shaped me instilled a sense of... purity? About learning, training, doing. There are some endeavors with a decidedly correct manner, and others where there are more than one correct manners, but some manners are more correct than others." He paused. "I have internalized these ways of thinking, I think, too much to change now."

Sivan nodded, supplying, "Torin Kilvin, Kozoku of Stardew Valley. Vassal to Akshara Leukos, Hatakomon of Starfall. Vassal to Briathor IV, Daizoku of Great House Briathos." He didn't actually know if Rhydian knew of or cared about Kalzasern nobility structure. Sivan had only learned it to better understand where his friend fit into his land. "I would like that, too, to see Aerion through its prince's eyes. Perhaps when I can wear his masterworks upon my hip and perhaps impress warriors of Aerion with their crafting if not my skill." He smiled gently, nodding.

If he had the opportunity to train there, whether with Rhydian again or another blademaster, he certainly would.

If nothing else, he would likely learn a trick or two he could use on Laurevere. He did delight in poking the bear, so to speak, when it came to his serious noble friend.