Legend of Ransera

Kalzasi to Zeraphesh. Zeraphesh to Aur'arnis. Later, Aur'arnis to Cathena City. Cathena City to Tertium. Tertium to Solunarium. The Railrunner was laying track carefully for himself. Reconstructing the slipspace from old memories before he had paid it too much mind in the aetheric patterns around him was slow, exacting business. It was draining, as well. After the first leg, he had a hearty meal and a long sleep. Auris wasn't so familiar as Karnor, so the second leg had taken more out of him. Ever restless, he had put his figurative fingers to the pulse of the city and found something with which to occupy himself while he reacquainted himself with the Aurisian capital.

Portions for Foxes might one day span the globe. It was good to have lofty goals.

The Queen of the Luxium was in Aur'arnis, and indefinitely at that. Aurin wanted to know why. Most of what he knew of contemporary Solunarium came from Arry. His trip to Solunarium had long been promised, but remained a surprise to the waif from Antiris. If Aurin could surprise him and arrive bearing gifts of sweet, juicy intelligence, then his entrance would be grand enough.

Some investigation led him to House D’Averyx, her staunchest supporters in the realm.

Some investigation led him to an impressionable party girl of House D'Averyx, and he seduced her.

Aurin worked quickly when he wanted to, and so he found himself cooling his heels at the D'Averyx estate. She had invited him, and he wasn't certain what she had in mind, but it didn't matter. Having that invitation allowed him to case the joint, and perhaps in a few more moves on the chessboard, he could find himself in Thalya's orbit, or at least among her nearest and dearest here in Aur'arnis, the better to scour for details that might lead him somewhere.

His clothes were fine, and he wore his own face. He was patient; in any case, the longer they left him to his own devices in the antechamber, the longer he could open himself to the aether in that place, seeking patterns that would tell him what was secret.

Aurin loved secrets.

It would be abundantly clear to a rake of Aurin's savvy that Rhyenne d'Averyx was not supposed to bring strange men back to her family estate. She was initially inclined to bring him to an inn, which she described as 'luxuriously anonymous', but a bit of gentle manipulation from a surpassingly handsome, exotic catch like Aurin was all it took to get him into the stately residence- albeit through the servants' entrance.

"I won't keep you waiting too, too long..." She promised with a kiss, "I have to be seen coming through the main doors, and see that the coast is clear, but I shall call for you by and by." She would turn her focus to the exceedingly nervous, young guardsman with a pretty face bisected by two prominent scars framing his right eye, who'd been manning the servants' entrance. Though her words were whispered, her focus was strong and Aurin's Semblance keen enough to glean the content of the exchange: Aurin was to be kept somewhere discreet and the as few of the staff as possible were to be included in this conspiracy. This meant that the guardsman would also have to play footman, because Rhyenne wanted her guest to be well-treated, even if he was to be attended in a supply closet.

After a fashion, these ostensible indignities for which Rhyenne profusely apologised, were beneficial to Aurin. This downstairs area, which housed the kitchens, the staff quarters and other such needful but unsightly places, was the sole province of the servants. For this reason, it was the least warded area on the property. The 'anteroom' to which Aurin was led was no supply closet, in the end, but the private quarters of the scarred guardsman, who identified himself as Vhask d'Mavryn-Eltoris. From the lack of visible tattoos creeping out from under his uniform and the hyphenated name, Aurin would be able to glean that Vhask was young as well as being of lower social status.

"I am sorry the accommodations are not more luxurious... But if you want wine or food, I can spirit something from the pantry..." He offered in adept Common tinged with Silandris.

Aurin had met women like Rhyenne before; the thrill of the taboo was as arousing as the sex itself. Why settle for fucking a handsome human when one could do so in one's family home, right under the noses of those who would scold her or worse? While he hated to see her go, he did enjoy watching her walk away. But once he was under the care of Vhask d'Mavryn-Eltoris, he relaxed and attempted to exude as much of a relaxing aura as he could for the poor kid - the poor, handsome kid. He wondered if Rhyenne had him wrapped around her pretty little finger because he had been one of her peccadilloes. He didn't seem jealous, but then, his anxiety seemed to eclipse all.

The man followed without giving him any trouble, and it didn't take more than a beat or two to realize he was in the guardsman's own quarters. Well.

His face shone with gratitude and apology at the offer.

"Luxurious enough for me," he promised. "Just point me where to sit so I won't bother you. A man's home is his castle, as they say. I didn't mean to invade yours. As for food and wine... well, if you are hungry and thirsty, I'll share with you, but I don't want to put you out any more than I already have. That wasn't my intention when I bought her a drink... ah... I apologize for putting you in a tight spot. That was not my intention, either."

But the walk had offered him barely fettered access to the downstairs of the place, and soon enough he would have access to the upstairs, though he could sense the warding. He might even learn a thing or two about warding from them, the intricate, well-established sort. His were powerful, but crude by comparison.

"Just tell me what I can do to make this as painless for you as possible, eh? The whims of the gentry can toss men like us into a panic."

“Sit wherever you like…” The bed or the floor were really the only options available, unless Aurin preferred to seat himself upon the trunk at the foot of the bed.

With the immediate concern of getting out of sight handled, Vhask’s focus would shift to worry about having abandoned his post.

“I am still on duty, sir…” Vhask grimaced, clearly tempted by the notion of sharing a cup with a stranger intriguing enough to have caught the attention of the notoriously discriminating Lady Rhyenne.

“I should, um… find someone to cover my station. I shall return shortly."

As Vhask stepped away, Aurin would be able to Semble much in the surrounding vicinity. It was late enough that most of the servants’ quarters were occupied, and those off duty had doffed the warding bracelets that protected their Auras and Symphonies from the scrying of guests on the upper floors.

Aurin would sense a scullery maid and an older ladies maid enjoying a furtive tryst, a footman suffering through a nightmare and, most pertinent to his particular focus, he would feel a sudden surge of anxious awe as a valet currently descending the steps slipped his warded bracelet from his wrist, freeing his Aura to Aurin’s scrutiny. It had recently been touched by great and alien power. He had recently been changed… in ways of which he wasn’t even aware himself. He had recently travelled some distance for a span of months, but during that time it seemed as though his cells hadn't continued the normal cycle of erosion and regeneration that were natural. Though it wouldn’t be perceptible to the naked eye, he hadn’t aged a day in the last three months.

“All settled.” Vhask said, forcing a faint smile and raising a bottle of wine. “I can’t partake, but it was no trouble at all. Men like us, you say? I took you for a noble.” He opened a cupboard to produce a pewter cup into which he poured a portion of wine to deliver into Aurin’s hand.

"By all means," he said, allowing for Vhask to cover his ass for doing the lady's bidding. When he was gone, Aurin sat on the ground opposite the door, his back to the wall and legs splayed out before him, boots crossed at the ankle. Given that respite, he did dowse the downstairs—dreams and dark deeds done in dark corners, but nothing of note until the strange man with the strange flavor hanging upon his aura. It tasted similar to the time-curse that had deposited Dhruv unceremoniously in the Midden, a castaway in time. But Dhruv came from the past, when wonders like time warping was said to be—if not common, then—possible. But that was then and this was now and...

Just as he was about to delve deeper, he sensed Vhask's return. He brought his awareness back to the here and now, and found himself licking his lips as if he really could taste that magic. Arms crossed over his chest, he brightened when the man returned.

"I appreciate you," he said, accepting the cup. "'Tis a shame. I oughtn't to be drinking alone, but I don't want to get you into any trouble. Hopefully, the lady will pull me out of your hair ere long and I can leave you the bottle for when your shift ends." He raised the cup. "To your future revels." He took a sip, smiled. "Neither noble in blood nor in purpose, I suppose, but thank you for thinking me a stuck-up prick." He grinned, vulpine. "But if the lady appreciates it, then I suppose I oughtn't to complain. So, ah... how to pass the time? Seen anything interesting of late? I have news out of Karnor if you care, and I'll eventually be headed back to Cathena. Or... sink me, I don't know. What do you do for fun? Dice, cards, ancient Hytori literature?"

"I'm sure Her Ladyship will join you for a cup of better wine ere long. Consider this a prelude... or perhaps an intermission." Vhask realised that it was unlikely to have been the first drink of the evening for the copper-headed stranger.

"Heh. Well, it's nice to be appreciated. Ah, what the hells. One drink won't dull my edge too badly." He closed the door and dug out another mug to pour a smaller portion for himself, before taking a seat on the trunk at the foot of his bed.

"I play the lyre." He answered, patting the trunk under his rump to suggest his instrument was stowed therein. "And aye, we play games every now and again. There's plenty of idle time to pass, since we household guards don't see much action. Not like the ambassador's honour guard..." A crooked smile curled his lip,

"The stories they come back with. Last year they got to watch a dragon usurp an elven empress at a gladiatorial arena. Wild stuff." He took a dainty sip of his wine.

"I'm not long out of training, but after a year or two I'm hoping to get transferred. I'd kill to see something like that. Most action I see is if the grocer sends a different delivery person than usual..." He paused,

"Oh, did you want to play a game? Are you bored? I can probably scare up some cards or summat..." He gestured to the door.

"Good man," he lauded, and then they were drinking together. It was better than drinking alone.

"I think I heard about that!" he exclaimed. "Crawled out of a volcano in the desert to claim the undercity of Solunarium, I think? Well, that's not something you hear every day. Does this house have an honor guard you could join after paying your dues? Or... hm, do you have a path to excitement planned or do you just have to keep your eyes open for opportunities?"

Aurin sipped his wine, then considered.

"Eh, not bored. Don't know how long the lady will take, though, so I suppose cards or a song if the spirit moves you. But tell me, did you share a cup or a game with any of that honor guard? They must have shared some stories if they deigned to mingle with local talent. If not, I hope you get some other kinds of action, at least." His smirk was conspiratorial, teasing but not demanding.

Vhask didn't exude anything particular except wanting this evening to go smoothly so he didn't get into trouble, and his desire for more excitement in his career. Aurin just pressed for more details about what interested him and how it related to Vhask himself; most people liked to talk about themselves, and Aurin could be an excellent listener.

He couldn't suss yet whether the guardsman was the type who would want to taste the noblewoman on him after the fact or not, so better to play it safe for the time being. If he could lead it around somehow to the mysterious valet, he would, but for the time being, he couldn't see a clear path from one interest to the other. That being said, foreign honor guard and the magical residue of great and alien powers met on some kind of walkabout - well, that was a bit of strangeness that could very well be connected whether Vhask was able to help or not.

Perhaps he should have made Arry swap tricks with him, sembling for mesmerism. It would have made bedding the lady easier, though he didn't mind a bit of a challenge in that arena.

"Oh, you've heard of Solunarium? A lot of the Karnori I've met have never heard of the place..." Vhask might have been a bit more detailed in his description if he'd known he was speaking to an informed audience.

"Well, Lady Rhyenne is the ambassador's daughter and this is technically his estate, but he's rarely in the city. It's either Solunarium or one of his more remote properties. As for The Honour Guard? It's usually composed of better bred blokes than I. So much so that the most recent opening in their ranks came as a result of Sir Ayreon turning out to be Prince Arkænyn..." There was a tinge of discernable distaste in the way Vhask spoke of Ayreon. "I hinted to my captain that I was interested in the transfer, but it went to the third daughter of Lord d'Daregon, so here we are."

No sooner did Aurin express the faintest interest in a song than Vhask put his wine aside and rose from sitting on his trunk to open it and produce his lyre. If he hadn't been actively hoping Aurin would ask, he was at least eager to share his art with someone who actually volunteered to listen. He replied as he began tuning the lyre.

"Oh, sure. When they come through they spend their downtime with us. Most of them are good folks..." His thoughts would flicker to Sir Ayreon again, and he would frown. There had been something person between them that left a dark mark on Vhask's Aura. It was clear that Ayreon didn't fall into the 'good folks' category in the mind of the lyre-wielding guardsman.

"And yeah, I hear things." The sound of tuning transitioned into more melodic musings. "I only started here last year. The first time I met any of them they were about to head out for the opening of The Temple of the Radiant Rending..." As their talk centred around Solunarium, his musical noodling took him toward an old melody that had come out of the other kingdom.
"I don't know how much you ken about Solunarium, but they're bitheistic. Their gods are in our pantheon, too, and they have a holy site here in Auris, so the ambassador sued to allow a temple to be constructed on some property he owns out there, which has a direct portal to the Solunarian Luxium... that's the part still ruled by elves.

"They came back here for a few days toward the end of Ash and Ayreon... or His Highness I should say... was boasting about getting frisky with some ducal Avialæ, which doesn't even seem like it would be a thing there, but what do I know? Anyway, after the draconic coup d'etat, the ambassador has been even more scarce here in the city. I don't know if it's damage control or what, because his title changed from ambassador to Solunarium and now it's ambassador to the Luxium."

Aurin nodded where appropriate, soaking up the intelligence as well as what context he could derive from the man's aura. He grimaced in solidarity when the third daughter of Lord d'Daregon wiped her arse with fine silk and his future. And, of course, he beamed when the lyre came out, taking a sip and settling in to be a good audience in more ways than one.

"Too bad I'm persona non grata on the premises or I'd ask to see this temple... oh, not on this premises. Mount Kaladon, maybe? The volcano where the twin gods were imprisoned however long ago...?" The melody was good, and Vhask plucked it out with some skill. Thankfully, he wouldn't have to pretend to enjoy the accompaniment.

Some of this he had heard from Arry himself, though his half-elven prodigal had less and less time for his ghostly visits. Some of what Vhask said helped him put pieces together, namely in the person of the mystery prince who had taken over the Luxian succession from their hierophant.

"Huh. I've traveled a fair amount. Never made it farther than Tertium, though. My ugly ears made me lesser than the meanest elf." He shrugged as if to say no harm, no foul. "So I suppose they are afraid to treat with the draconic Umbrium. Choosing sides? Risky. Well, I hope if there's a civil war or aught, it doesn't spill over into this continent. We've enough problems as it is."

The only Avialae he'd heard of was Arry's half-brother. If an Umbrian duke was canoodling with the Luxian heir, that might be a line of investigation to pursue, though likely not until he arrived.

"Suppose there's Avialae all over. Just assume they're either ruling Kalzasi or slaving away in the Imperium. Good on them for choosing their own paths, though."

When the song finished, he set the cup down so he could clap with an unpatronizing grin. He tried to plumb the man's aura regarding his scars, wondering if questioning their origin would pull up a story he might want to tell.

"Now that I know you play well, I would certainly like another song. Glad holding a sword hilt hasn't made your fingers any less nimble."

"Oh, you are informed, aren't you?" Vhask frowned slightly, as it occurred to him to be concerned that he might be too loose-lipped. He stayed his tongue, though his fingers continued to play, as he reflected upon what he'd said and whether any of it was compromising to his position in the household. He had mentioned a few things specific to the ambassador, but no routines so specific as to be particularly exploitable. It wasn't as though he was telling the strange redhead that he liked to take walks every morning at a specific time and place. He just said he didn't see him in the city often, and the rest? It may not have been newsworthy in Karnor, but it in Auris was fascinating fodder for the local periodicals about their exotic cousins to the South...

"Your ears suit you, I think..." Vhask mused, though it belatedly struck him that that may have been taken for an insult, "Which is to say I don't think they... or you... are ugly." As his song drew to a close a light knock rapped against the door, causing Vhask to place his palm over the still-vibrating strings to mute the conclusory chord.

"I'm not..." His half-formed protestation was interrupted by the creaking of the door, as it opened to reveal a figure whose Aura Aurin would recognise as that of the mysterious manservant, speaking Silandris.

"I heard you playing and I-... Oh." He pursed his full lips, arching a brow at Aurin. "You have a guest." His eyes slid smoothly to the bottle, "And wine."

"I am keeping Her Ladyship's guest occupied whilst she... does whatever it is she needs to do." He switched back to his accented Common, "This is Varex, valet to the Lady Rhyenne's brother, Master Invyr. Varex, this is... Oh, I never did catch your name, did I?" Vhask seemed to be a bit embarrassed. He'd really gone on, hadn't he? Prating and performing without asking much of the guest to whom he was meant to be attending.