Lost in the Wake [Raithen]

[Khyan Nykara]

"Lost in the Wake"
45 Searing, 122

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It felt like an abject nightmare beyond anything he'd prior imagined. Vinicius Nykara Khyan had never been one to dwell on problems- least of all those outside his control. There were so many wonderful diversions for a posh, pretty boy in a realm that revered good aesthetics as a sign of divine favour. Why should he brook depression when fine wine and beautiful people were ripe for the relishing?

But today was different. These were not the normal problems of a privileged teen. The Sword of Aværys was hanging over his head and that of his entire family. Earlier that day Solunarium's desert justice declared the patron branch of Gens Nykara traitors to the Crown and practitioners of vile sedition against Her Divine Radiance the Queen. In a land where the punishment for a crime could extend to the entire family of the convicted and even stretch across multiple generations, this matter was no mere trifle.

Indeed, tomorrow promised something frightful. Like as not he would be collected from his home and dragged naked through the streets in chains up the Via Sorokyna to be hurled, alongside his mother and father, into the churning maw of the sacred volcano in whose shadow they all lived.

But tonight he was under no guard... Tonight he had big, big choices to make. Whether to face the justice of the Crown or attempt to flee, like a thief in the night. His mind was whirling with the many grim possibilities and fantasising about the possibility that this horrible mistake might be corrected. His father was no traitor, but a patriot! This misunderstanding could yet be cleared up, or... Or perhaps the Crown would, for the first time in his lifetime, make the merciful choice rather than the severe.

Such remote suppositions were hard to hold onto with a sober mind and so, while Khyan yet had his freedom... while he yet had his life, he would turn that mind far afield of sobriety. If he was to burn on the morrow, he would burn like kerosene. And so he donned the drabbed cloak he could borrow from the serving staff and ducked out into the night- quitting his posh neighbourhood in favour of one where he wouldn't be so damnably recognisable. He could hardly distract himself from his sorrows when he was swarmed with the feigned sympathy of lesser neighbours who would soon be his betters. No, tonight was for anonymity.

He made his way to the Port Vasta District... the melting pot of the capital and conveniently situated along the river, if he should muster the liquid courage to take his chances on the river, whether to flee or to sacrifice his life to the Founders before the Crown opportuned to.

[Raithen]

The festival surrounding the solstice had wound down, his discharge had gone well, earning him an additional honorary title to tack onto his name should he ever need to impress anyone, and, with weeks yet before he was to join the mercenary band his mother had chosen for him, Raithen was at loose ends.

While he normally haunted the prestigious parts of both the sun and shadow cities, he was no stranger to the common places, in fact, he quite liked them. It was his hope that he could grow to know them better, to know all parts of the city and surrounding area, in his new employment. His clothing was simple and clean, but there was no hiding the wings that sprouted from his shoulders. His reputation was reasonable, in all the circles of society that were aware of him, neither too high, nor to low, but did include the information that he was well versed in the fighting arts. Thus he held no fear in his heart as he made his way down to the port area, thinking that the breeze off the water would be just the thing to accompany a belly full of, if not cheap, certainly not expensive, ale.

It had been a couple of years since he'd spent much time wandering on his own, and he was just trying to remember which way he should go to get to the tavern he remembered liking, turning this way and that, when he felt his wing clip someone. Signing at himself he turned, a hand held out in polite supplication,

"Say, I'm sorry. Damned wings. I half forget I have them myself most of the time."

The man in question was young, younger even than Raithen, still not having let go of how pretty he must have been as a boy. Taking a second look, more for his own gratification than to see if he'd done the man a harm, the features of the dark face suddenly lined up with a memory and the Avialea paused.

"Wait, um..." He fought for it, memory was not his strong suit, that realm belonged to Phocion, "Do I know you?"

It was the expression of displeasure, tinged with a little fear, that brought clear the name for Rai.

"Khy? No, is it you? Khyan. It's Raithen."

Throwing back his cloak to let himself be properly seen, he held out his hand to grasp the other man's arm in greeting, for, he supposed, they both were men now.

"You must let me buy you a drink. There is a tavern somewhere here about." He turned quickly from one street to another again, "I used to go there when we were in school, when I could slip away." He laughed, sounding just as he would have the last time his schoolboy companion had seen him. "I'll have to learn my way again, but, if we find it, you must let me see you a cup."

He waited to hear if Khyan was on some particular errand, or if perhaps their friendship had not survived their manhood.

[Khyan Nykara]

"Futuo!" Khyan exclaimed as his feet caught up with the new trajectory his body had taken at being bumped sidelong. He turned abruptly. Slight though he was, Khyan was a formidable fighter and if there was a day he was ready to pick a fight it was today. He hadn't lost all his privilege yet, and one of his boons engaged as he regarded his accidental assailant. Seeing through the eyes of a Sembler, he recognised the man before he doffed his hood. The rage bled away into a blend of fear and vexation at having been caught out before he'd even taken a sip of soothing medicine to ease the twists and turns of a troubled mind.

The eyes that met Raithen's were harrowed. One needn't read Auras to see that. One could read his face as easily as the news, and both told the same story: Dark days for Gens Nykara.

"Salve, Raithen..." He uttered, grudgingly. He knew Raithen well enough to know that he wasn't one of the people who would enjoy his descent, nor invite him out just for the sake of gossip. As far as he'd known, the Avialae hadn't even been around for a while, so perhaps he wasn't up-to-date on the state of things in the Senatus Minor. It was a relief that, if he was to run into a familiar face, he was already one of Khyan's betters. His fall from grace would yield up no benefit for a descendent of the Founders... Even one with clumsy wings.

"I..." He hesitated, before accepting, "will take you up on that, old friend." He let his arcane talents dim into disuse, now that he didn't feel threatened. "Are you offering out of pity? I'm not sure if you've heard the latest news from your crowned cousins..." He trailed off and pulled his hood down to better shadow the upper half of his countenance.

[Raithen]

The look Khyan returned to him was broken and hollow enough that Rai took half a step back, saying,

"Good gods, man, are you well?" It was to his disadvantage, at that moment, that he kept so very little track of the goings of the political climate.

"Pity? Only if a good ale has some restorative power over you. I haven't seen you since I left school, I wanted to catch up, but, if you are unwell, at least let me walk you home."

When his once-friend declined this second offer Rai led him in the direction that he was fairly sure the tavern lay in. It took him a moment for his mind to put together what he was being told.

"No, I've been in the guard and..." Then he put together several pieces of information he'd heard, in his duty weeks ago, and since he'd been home.

"Oh." He didn't turn and look back at Khy again, thinking that his expression that was certainly now pity, would be appreciated. Thankfully, he'd been right about the direction and, in only a few minutes they were stepping into the semi-darkness of the drinking establishment. He waved to the nearest serving women for two ales, then changed it to four. The place wasn't full but he didn't want to be left with nothing to drink, considering the likely mood of his company.

When they were seated at a table with no one nearer than two away he finally looked at Khy again.

"You don't have to talk, if you'd rather not. I can talk. You know I've enough in my for two, or we can just drink, that was my original plan for the evening."

[Khyan Nykara]

It was strange, Khyan thought, how sometimes genuine sympathy could have the opposite of their intended effect. Someone's earnest concern made the nightmare feel legitimate... Made him feel that, perhaps, he was undeserving of discipline or death. He didn't think his father deserved this conviction, and certainly his mother didn't, but part of him felt that for him it might be warranted. He'd been unruly and disobedient, skating by because he was just so bloody lucky...

"Well," He forced a chuckle, even as his eyes brimmed with tears. "I'm certainly counting on the restorative power of ale... or at least its powers of diversion, if not restoration." He fell into step with Raithen. The Avialae might have been as slim as he, but he was slightly taller and those wings seemed to broaden him. They were not a common race in Solunarium, but he'd seen enough to know that his old chum was rather a runt amongst colossi. Still, he felt formidable at Khyan's side.

He took a seat across from Raithen, and drew back the hood of his borrowed cloak.

"As long as we don't need to talk about me, I'm fine. You can, um.... Fill me in on what's been going on with you, yeah? I'm sure a fellow who travels in circles as lofty as yours must have some good stories to relate..." He glanced up, grateful, at the approaching barmaid.

"Gratias!" He exclaimed. Had Khyan Nykara ever thanked a waitress before? He gulped down half of the first ale as soon as he could draw it to his lips, then let the tankard slam onto the uneven wood of the table with a thud. He wiped at his lips with the back of his olive-skinned wrist and regarded Raithen, expectantly. Perhaps it was a blessing to have run into a member of the royal family. Perhaps Raithen represented a lifeline sent down by Aværys himself to undo this injustice. But first, he would be an all-too-welcome distraction.

[Raithen]

That the younger man was deeply upset was fairly obvious, but Rai had not kept up with current events outside his own family, so his knowledge extended only to the fact that Khyan's family was in some legal trouble.

Perhaps there were also other personal things that were upsetting his once-friend, or perhaps the legal trouble was a good deal worse than Raithen had at first imagined. It was obvious that the matter was not one that his drinking companion wished to speak of, however, so he left it alone.

When the drinks arrived he took a pull on his first that drained away half. It was almost as good as he'd remembered. The grain harvests hadn't been as healthy this year, which probably accounted for it. He considered asking if they had any left from the last time he'd been there before deciding that it didn't matter all that much. Taking the request to heart he said,

"Well, I finished my four years in the Guard, had the retirement ceremony just a few weeks ago. I wasn't sure what to do with myself after, my skills don't exactly translate well to a political career. So, I decided to join a mercenary group, get some more experience under my wings, so to speak."

He smiled at his own little joke, but only a little, inviting Khyan to join him or leave it be.

"It's a few weeks still before I'm to join up with my new brothers in arms to fulfill a contract to ensure the safety of some outlying villages from the dangers of the wilds. So, basically, I'm spending my time drinking and reacquainting myself with the haunts of my ill-spent youth."

Here he raised his mug in salute and added,
"And my well-spent friendships, I hope."

[Khyan Nykara]

Khyan's next taste of ale was more a sip than a swig. In his short time on Ransera, Khyan had imbibed a great deal of ale. So much so that he rarely took the time to enjoy it in the epicurean sense. But today was different, for this might be his last opportunity. Had he thought the trial might have turned this way, he might have planned better for it. It seemed to call for a party... A sendoff for one likely bound for Sorokyn's depths. He ran his tongue over his lips and tried to commit the taste of the soothing ale to his memory. Perhaps he might think on the flavour and the feeling of slipping into inebriation when he was slipping off toward eternity...

It was a reverie that was broken by Raithen's response. He painted on a smile, and nodded along with the recounting. His mind was elsewhere, but he was listening- there was just a bit of delay between Rai's delivery and Khy's reception. Thus it was a few seconds into Rai's description of his new contract that he processed the news that this knight among men was electing to serve a mercenary order in lieu of the Crown he'd served all his adult life. It was unexpected, not because it felt out of character for Rai, which it didn't, but because it was rare for those of higher castes to choose the inglorious path when the easy was was laid out before them like a velvet carpet.

He returned the smile, weary though his was, and raised his cup.

"That is interesting work..." He acknowledged, "And important, I should say. I've heard that the Mist Storm that descended on us on the 34th afflicted some of the desert life out afield of the cities." There were sightings of gargantuan cyclopes and three-headed wyverns, he'd heard. Some of the villages had gone quiet after the fall of the mists.

The cities defended themselves aptly enough. He'd seen, with his own eyes, the dragons emerged from Sorokyn's depths to protect their realm and many a negation mage had taken to their wyverns to aid in the effort. By the time Khyan and his kin were evacuated, the mists were already on the wane from what he could see. But some of those little villages and caravanserais were lucky to have a camel, let alone a wyrm capably of fending off dread mists. He shuddered to think what might have befallen some of those remote places in an already deadly desert.

[Raithen]

Rai nodded, finishing his first drink quickly he reached for the second, pulling it close as he listened to the listless way Khyan spoke.

"I've heard that. I suppose it would be bad of me to be excited about the possibility of encountering something unexpected, considering the damage such things do."

His excitement was, nonetheless obvious. The truth was, he had been honored to serve the royal family, to bring what honor he could to his House, but what he truly wanted was to be out in the wilds, exploring, safeguarding the cities and people, flying the skies, free. There would be plenty of work for him to do, likely he wouldn't spent long in the mercenary barracks with the new contracts that the dreadmists would have spawned along with gods knew what else.

Normally he would have asked what his companion's plans were for the future, but, under the circumstances, it seemed a poor conversational choice. He was suddenly quite glad he had finished his time with the guard when he had. Taking traitors for execution had not been something that he had been called upon to do often, but he had done it. Dragging Khy and his family, naked from their home for punishment would have been more than he'd have been able to stomach. Trying to put the idea out of his head he said,

"Is there anything you'd like to do tonight?" He was content to stay and drink till they were both under the table, but he would also happily indulge any of his old friend's wishes. Half joking he said,

"I could fly you over the city, I can carry another person now." In his youth he had struggled to lift much more than himself but, it seemed he, or his innate magic, had finally matured to the point when he was able.

[Khyan Nykara]

"Oh, I don't think it would be a bad thing at all..." Khyan replied, shaking his head. "I'll grant you I've never been the most adventurous sort when it came to death-defying feats like vying against mutant monsters, but praise be to the Founders that we have people who are thus inclined." He cracked a weary, but genuine smile. "If not for you lot cutting them down outside the cities, my lot would have to face them a sight more often." He noticed that Raithen was actually getting ahead of him in the drinking department. That came as a bit of a surprise, given all the reasons Khyan had to drink just now, but here was the sort of challenge to which he rose. Downing the remnants in a series of gulps, he pushed aside the empty cup in favour of the last full one.

"Tonight?" Already he took a copious swig from the fresh mug and wiped at his lips with the back of one slender hand. "I want to party like it's oblivion eve." A dark grin crossed his dark countenance and he drank more. "I wish I'd been better prepared," He confessed, "I might have mustered the banners for a proper send-off, but..." His smile fell away, "I think part of me didn't pursue that because I know I'm already a pariah... His Serene Highness may not have rendered his final judgement upon me, but the Court of Public Opinion is quick to dole out a sentence even before the defendant is convicted..." Most of his friends came from prominent, human families, albeit less prominent than his own, but that was all the more reason for them to distance themselves from the alleged seditionists. Some would seek the fill the social vacuum Khyan would leave in his wake, and some would just fear being implicated as co-conspirators against the almighty Crown. As if anyone would truly be foolish enough to vie with the heirs to the Founders themselves, severe and vengeful as they'd been.

Khyan lifted his eyes to meet Rai's and he blinked, momentarily dumbfounded.

"Are you..." He scoffed, "...serious? Surely you jest, I..." He pursed his lips and fought off an uncomfortable chuckle, "I don't know, Raithen... Have you learnt to hold your liquor? You're liable to drop me on an obelisk!" A grim notion crossed his mind but, rather than delivering dread, it left him laughing heartily.

"Although, I suppose that might not be the worst outcome, given my current circumstances, huh?" He guffawed at his own literal gallows humour.

[Raithen]

The Avialae was pleased as punch to receive Khy's approval, particularly when cast in the light of making Rai a better guardian of the country and its people.

He toasted with his new mug at the idea of partying till neither of them could recall how much they had drunk, which had been mostly his own plan for the evening anyway. The more diminutive man put a twist to the tone of the affair that had not been in Rai's original plan, but that was understandable, considering that his family was on trial for treason. Raithen did not believe that the family would be convicted of anything, but this belief was based more on his own wishes than any actual knowledge of the proceedings or, with the exception of Khyan, any of the accused.

The knowledge that Khy was not a social outcast was news to Rai, but then, they did not travel in the same social circles anymore. Raithen's circles were both too high and too low for his childhood friend. Leaning over to clap the darker man on the shoulder he said,

"You don't know that it'll end that way yet. Many have risen and fallen only to rise again." He could think of several tales he'd been told as a child and then had confirmed by his history tutors that involved families falling from grace only to regain their places or climb even higher. The winged man realized that he should really ask his mother about the whole situation, considering Khyan had been a known associate of his at one time. It wasn't from fear, for he would be protected by his own family, not to mention the verifiable fact that he hadn't had any contact for the last four years, but more in case people were making subtle jabs at him that he wasn't catching.

"I could be serious." He said, grinning into his mug as he took another long pull, "And yes, thank you. I have."

Whether it was his heritage coming in to play that had slowly turned his ability to drink others under the table into a well known fact in some sectors, or he was just blessed, he did not know. Either way, he could hold his drink now, quite a lot of it. He laughed at the gallows humor instead of slipping down into it, answering,

"I promise I won't drop you, but you don't have to say 'yes', they seem to have enough to keep us both deep in our cups till morning here, if you'd rather just stay."