Legend of Ransera

Whereas his face was normally kind and amiable, it grew impassive as Phædreon spoke on. Only his eyes remained interested. Perhaps he had taken his time, waiting for the elf's Hunger to give the human Power. Or perhaps these things just worked out that way now that he was an avatar of Hunger and Power. At the tug to his trousers, he set his instrument aside. Instead of kneeling, he stood, towering above the elf like a statue of the God they shared.

He reached through space and brought Varvara's instrument to his hands, the one suspected of carrying Syren's blessing was now entirely that of the Chainmaiden. He strummed a secret chord, and when he opened his mouth, there was more than one voice singing. The light at his brow crystalized into Aværys' own mortal crown.

They have already returned. My crown is His; my instrument Hers. You overshot the moment, but here you are. Your divine grandparents chose my husband and me to propagate Their glory.

Power flowed through him, his own and the divine power that eclipsed it. He hungered for what Phædreon had: a means to hunt the bitch queen through Time. This was his ambition: to judge the mighty who would take from him what was his. He let the power flow through him, much as it had when Khyan swore to him, when Lystreia and Syrena swore to him.

Perhaps the timelord would swear to him, too. If not, he could at least bask in the power of his Gods, know it in a new way.

Be not afraid, Phædreon Time-Twister. If They did not wish you to know Their return, you would not.

It was as simple as that.

After a moment of silence, Finn became more contained. Undimmed, even the white, blue, and black of his eyes limned in divine gold. But he was a man, not a god, and the gravity of him didn't warp the world around him, not like he did when fully channeling grace.

His voice hinted at the choral still, but to a lesser degree. He watched the spirits meander away from him, their interest waning too. He returned his gaze to the elf, wondering at his weariness, but compassionate more than anything.

"My brother-in-law, Phocion Princeps, mentioned the felicitous convergence of your sojourn here with my oath to pursue the fallen queen. I would have been patient and awaited your emergence from this vellum labyrinth, but it occurred to me that your eyes might grow tired before your curiosity was assuaged. What bard wouldn't want to trade stories with one such as you? Eventually, I would seek your aid, but if you cannot or will not help me track down your renegade relative, then I will bear you no ill will, begrudge you no song or kindness. I will merely have to find another way to slake my vengeance.

"Deus Imperator gave me leave to seek it, but I do not believe he would approve of me commandeering his bloodline to accomplish it. The Pyramid is paramount.

"You needn't answer me now, either. I can only imagine the sacrifices you have made to get here. Aye, I want your help and guidance for my vengeance, but I also want to know you." A hint of a smile quirked his lips. "Perhaps I will be the one who sings your song to the Divine Twins one day."

After another moment of silence, Finn nodded. A pyramid was a simple enough geometric shape and his instructors at the Academy as well as those of the Vigilia Argenti had demanded he master some degree of mathematics for various reasons; all the same, he didn't know when he would understand this Pyramid.

In Sentinel blacks, he was below Phocion and Cithæra. At the Umbrian throne, he was below Arvælyn and Zalkyriax. In the Templum Solis Radians, he deferred to Vrædyn as it was his domain, but outside, they were equal, perhaps, in the eyes of Aværys.

"Absorb the century, Time Lord," he said. "I will armor and accouter myself for vengeance and stewardship of the divine bloodline. Whatever her Aurisian chronomancers taught her... It cannot be enough to evade me."

Finn slung his lesser instrument over his back and began to pluck the silver strings of Varvara's instrument, imagining them as chains resonating with Her will.

"May the Divine Twins bless you, Phædreon Æternitatis."

He turned and played himself out, wondering if Khyan followed him like the elf's familiars, only invisible to Finn's eyes. If Cithæra awaited him without, he would report on the proceedings and what he required. Else, he would report to Phocion and begin to question the experts within the silver order for whatever records and artefacts they might keep against tampering with Time itself.

Finn nodded to the servus.

"Take this," he commanded, turning so the servus could unstrap the instrument at his back and take it to his music room. Finn had a music room in a subterranean palace, as well as another in his Luxian abode. Strange times.

He made his way to the Conquest Gallery with Varvara's instrument in hand and Aværys' crown upon his brow. This was another personage whose place on the Pyramid relative to his own was unknown, in flux. In any case, he wasn't taking the time to change, so the princeps would have to accept him as he came.

His bow was that of an equal. They were cousins-in-law, and Arkænyn's Gods favored him. The most logical reason for him to seek Finn out in particular was his errant mother, but she had tried to end his life as well. Perhaps he meant for them to be allies—or the enemy of my enemy is my friend, as the saying went.

"Your Starlit Highness," he said. "Welcome to the Palatium Umbrarum."

Finn's crown shone, albeit dimly now, and while he didn't strum the silver strings, they resonated with the thrum of his heartbeat, though even he couldn't hear it. He could only feel it empowering him, if only in his own mind. A spirit of vengeance, a Re'hyæan bard, and perhaps soon a royal chronomancer were his thralls. Here in his husband's palace, he was not at all cowed by the mercurial princeps where once every nerve in his body would have oscillated with alarm at his mere presence.

"To what do I owe the honor of your visit?"

Finn wondered if this were a gift from Aværys dropped right into his lap or a strange twist of fate. Either way, the royal elf and royal pain in the ass was adapting to a human being set on high by gods, dragons, and elves, and if he was begrudging of Finn's new Grace, he still acknowledged it.

The Pyramid is Paramount, but the stones that made it were not entirely set in place else Arkænyn would still be on a level with Arvælyn.

It seemed like the perfect offer, but if Finn had learned anything of politics, it was that showing one empty hand in good faith didn't mean the other hand behind the back didn't hold another weapon poised to strike. Arkænyn could conceivably desire revenge, but he could also seek his mother to join her once more—plots within plots within plots.

If Finn had learned anything of politics, it was that he knew nothing. In the grand scheme of things, he might never swim through these seas of sand with the same ease as those who were born to them. But if he would rather be a fellow shark than a sinecure, he would have to act decisively when a fulcrum moment presented itself. There would always be risk, but there could always be reward.

Idly seeming, he strummed Varvara's silver strings; he felt something akin to the heavy chains on the ship that brought him across the Crystal Sea moving through the through the hawseholes to drop anchor, something felt through wood and metal, flesh and bone, heard in the air and reverberating below the water.

The silver instrument seemed to reflect more light than the room contained, and his crown shone brighter still.

If I am path and partner to your heart's Desire, if you would be untrammeled by Time to seek your Fate, then kneel, Princeps Platini, and swear yourself true to me before Divine Aværys and Holy Varvara. An Oath for your Vengeance before the Oathbinder and the Spiritus Vindictæ, and you will turn your high-handed enemy into your friend.

Finn had faith that Aværys would answer his call; where He went, His Sister would follow. While he didn't know if the Great God would deign to observe an oath among mortals, he invoked Khyan with impunity. While the work of ruining Æros and his family continued apace, there was more vengeance to be had and he supposed what remained of his friend could feed upon that.

The care and feeding of his thralls could only further empower him.

And Aværys.