Casus Belli

[Csephion Draxus]

Necia, the City-State of Phressia




In the villa of the Satrap, there was no sleep this evening. Csephion Draxus, elected by lot to oversee the dominion of Phressia, was troubled by the void. It was now one week since any news from the south. Without courier to assuage the fears of the people, the Satrap beseeched another source for news from beyond the horizon.

As the Satrap kneeled at a wooden table and covered himself with a shawl over the head, two attractive young Glaucan men soothed a ram, whose head and neck were adorned with floral garlands. They sang songs of honey and nectar to the animal, whose eyes reflected flickering torch light back to the Satrap.

"My Lord, I stand ready to deliver the profession of your desire to Denetion Medevantis, Ruler of the Limitless Dominion of the Sea. By the offering before you and by the profession of blood, what shall be delivered unto the deep?"

Beneath the waters of Phressia was the adjacent city-state of Ilyx, the ancient Glaucan citadel and one of the most austere sanctuaries built to honor the highest Sea god. As it was throughout the Republic, the cities of Men were the nexus of the two great peoples, for while Glaucans could thrive in the realm of air, Men would surely drown beneath the waves. Therefore, those Men who wished to pay homage to Denetion Medevantis, the Great Sea God must do so through proxy. There were no shortage of Glaucan priests, ready to ferry the desires and vexations of Men into the deep below, and to return with Denetion's austere response.

Csephion Draxus looked to the young man and then back to the ram.

"By profession of blood and the offering before me, I Draxus of the Csephii and Satrap of Phressia ask unto Denetion Medevantis to fly far and fast through his realm, and speed to me the location of Denix of the Parsidei, Captain and Imperator of the Republic."

Each young priest produced a curved knife, trimmed in gold. Still singing sweetly, one young priest slipped a knife across the Satrap's palm, while another across the Ram's throat. The blood from each was allowed to flow into the same vessel, which was shaped like a gilded fish, with a polished jasper stopper that fit flush over its pursed lips. The blood stopped dripping from Draxus' palm within seconds. The ram, however, was bled for a while longer, it's lifeless body falling limp onto the table.

Draxus was now attended to by a slave, who dressed his wound with a strip of silk, removing the shawl from his head as he rose to his feet. He nodded to the priests, who retreated from his villa with haste, carrying the bloody receptacle with them back down to the underwater city below.

Neverminding that, he retired from the atrium into a more secluded space while he waited for a divine answer. Already, his scribe slave, Pascias, was at work with correspondence.

"A pox on it, Pascias, I have no stomach for small affairs. Send them away for the evening."

Undaunted, Pascias held up a single parchment that had no identifiable marker.

"Begging your pardon Satrap, but a word comes from Asga on the matter of Fyrian. Supposedly a sighting in the flesh."

Annoyed, he snatched the scroll.

"Really Pascias, you'd do well to divest yourself from such fantasy. Fyrian is a story told to sailors and dullards. I do not doubt the fantasy's power, but as for what lies behind the name, it is less corporeal than the air you breathe."

Nevertheless, he unrolled the scroll. It wasn't the account of Fyrian that caught his attention. It was the parcel that the supposed Prince of Pirates carried. He quickly rolled the scroll up again, color momentarily leaving his face.

"The Lantern."

[Mr. Glasswater]

Hooves pounded the soft earth mercilessly, an accompanyment to the creak of saddle leathers, dangling trinket charms, and the hissed urgings of frantic riders. In the early morning dawn, steam from the horses' nostrils puffed out in short bursts. They had traveled hard for many leagues without rest. They were strong animals though, and could easily keep their paces for any amount of time.

The group thundered along a pathway, trees lining both sides as they passed by at a dizzying pace. Four of them; three Glaucan and one Freeman. They coaxed every amount of speed from their mounts as possible. That they were racing against time was well understood among them, and their actions spoke well of that. They could not fail their Captain. He had given them their orders, and they would follow it.

One rider pulled ahead of the rest, his horse surging forward into the morning haze that collected in the woods surrounding them. Broadshouldered, hair like flame, and haunting silver eyes, he was a sight that demanded respect. He, more than the others, held more accountability. He would not fail.

He urged his ride faster, and the horse tore down the path.




Thirty minutes later...


The riders did not slow as they came upon a small, unassuming village. The lead Glaucan knew where he needed to go, and steered his horse with slight tugs to the reins. It was a fortunate thing that most of the village had not yet left their homes. They would have found themselves trampled.

The Glaucan pulled up sharply then, his horse skidding to a sliding stop in front of a small tavern. The animal pawed at the ground, muscles trembling in the wake of such hard riding.

"Ariadne!"

It was a bellowing voice, that none could help to not hear. The Glaucan would not go unheard. He cast a menacing silvery gaze at the closed door as if by will alone he could open it.

Behind him, the other three had also reined in their mounts, and each horse shifted nervously where they stood, hooves excitedly stamping the earth.

"Ariadne!"

[Ariadne Fyrian]

"Ariadne!"

here was a groan from one of the back tables as a Glaucan woman slowly roused herself at the sound of her name being called. The voice she knew well enough, but he had no business here. She wasn't due back to the Fold for another three days.

Mr. Glasswater had come early for her, and Ariadne Fyrian was finding herself more and more displeased with that. She was still hugging a bottle of some unkown liquor, half-full from the night before, and tucking it in close to her body, she groggily rose to her feet. A few stumbles, and she was standing upright without the aide of the chairback.

There were others around her, a few disturbed in their slumber by the voice outside, but most ignored it and went back to their drunken sleeping.

Reeling in her mildly drunken stupor, Ariadne clumsily navigated her way through tables, chairs, and other bodies toward the door of the tavern.

One hand went out to unlatch the handle, and she pushed it open, sea green eyes squinting in the morning sun.

She stared up at the red-headed Glaucan. Her own fiery locks framed a fine-boned face, exotic cheekbones, and gentle lips.

"Mr. Glasswater."

Her normally smooth tone was rough and hoarse.

"You're not due for another three days. Go back to the Fold and leave me alone."

"I cannot do that, Ariadne."

The female Glaucan blinked, not entirely sure whether to be angry or surprised.

"You must come with us. It is your father"

She watched Glasswater scowl, feeling as a fist closed tightly over her heart.

"He is at the edge of the Black Waters."[/i]

[Csephion Draxus]

"When can we leave?"

Draxus's question was direct and cut to the bone. Pascias wondered if perhaps his master was suffering a flux of the mind.

"Begging your pardon wise Draxus, but 'we'?"

The Satrap knew his personal slave's mind, and it was almost equally as keen. He was an eastern scholar before calamity forced his low lot in life. Still, the Satrap knew how to recognize and to reward talent. Though a slave, Pascias lived exceedingly well.

"Yes. We."

As two other slaves made sure lamps were lit in the study, Draxus and Pascias pored over scrolls that the Satrap plucked from random document holders.

"We, and a not insignificant honorarium."

He let slip a bemused, clever smile.

"It is the West. There may be barbarians after all."

Pascias, though understanding the guile, was nervous.

"The Satrapy would see this as a military matter, would they not? Would it be better to send a General, or raise another Imperator to travel to Asga? They won't agree to a politician, despite your impeccable credentials."

With a snap of his fingers, Draxus had a slave at his beckon call to produce a cup of wine. He took of it, and drank, ready to quieten the throb in his hand.

"I think you underestimate my manufactured tact, my friend. Barbarian wars in the west are recently out of fashion in Demos. I think that a political victory would be much more charming for our friends to the east. Pick a king, any king."

He waved his hand dismissively.

"Sauce for the goose is vulgar flattery and coin. It makes even gamey fowl toothsome. We travel west, suckle the whore's teat a while, and when that deed is at an end, turn about to bring Fyrian into account."

He knew by the purse-lipped smile and finger tapping that he had sold Pascias on the stratagem.

"So then I say again, when do we leave?"

Pascias paced, and paused.

"You are within your legal rights to procure one Talon from the Phressian garrison, I believe. No one could hold you to account for that on any serious grounds."

The Satrap smiled. Now, all there was to do was to hear from the priests of Denetion Medevantis over this whole affair regarding his missing Imperator.

[Ariadne Fyrian]

It was a blessing of the gods that Ariadne had been so quick to sober herself. Glasswater's news did well to banish any sort of effects from the previous night as well, and the constant fist around her chest did not loosen its' grip.

Atop her mottled grey gelding, Ariadne was almost neck to neck with her father's chief navigator.

"What happened?!"

She had to shout over the thundering of their horses' hoofbeats.

"It was the storm. He was caught by a wave and thrown into the mast. We were able to stave off his departure for now, but he will not last for much longer."

"And the ship?"

"She still floats. Will need repairs though."

The Glaucan woman said nothing more, instead urging her mount to greater speeds. She overtook Glasswater without trouble, and lengthened her lead considerably. If her father was not long for the Black Waters, then that meant it would fall to her to lead the Fold.

Was she ready for such a thing? True, she'd joyously stood beside her father as he guided the pirate band through more than their share of skirmishes and adventure-seeking, but was she prepared to step into his role?

Would she ever be?

This latest venture that'd given them the Golden Lantern had been a particularly bold move, and had brought down the anger of Necia. She'd not been present during the taking, but had indeed heard of the incident through her father's couriers. She'd been there during the planning, and those delicate negotiations in which Glasswater had acted in the interests of Fyrian. It was one of those things that was a constant, and helped to keep the leader of the Fold always shrouded in unknowns.

Her father was Captain. As hadbeen her grandfather. And her great-grandfather.

And now it was settling itself on to her shoulders.

Ariadne hissed at her mount, spurring it onward through the forest.

[Csephion Draxus]

Draxus reclined on a couch as Pascias drolled off the various foreign scapegoats he could possibly entreat upon. It didn't particularly interest him, as Pascias was just as capable of making a nuanced choice as he was.

"The Tirgats are nascent, and not altogether untoward us Domus. Perhaps an audience with the Tirgat monarch could even prove to be a genuinely constructive endeavor?"

Draxus nodded absently, studying a sea chart as he sipped his wine. Pascias continued unabated.

"Shall I draft an itinerary then?"

The Satrap looked modestly annoyed.

"Yes, a thousand times yes Pascias this is a trivium. Go and do. Point me at the correct people to flatter and the correct sweetness of honey liquor to apply to the dullard. You know the type."

He raised his glass and rolled his eyes as he droned in an officious and monotone lilt.

"O gracious king for whom I have plied the treacherous realm of Denetion to entreat upon, allow me the privilege of thy court. O king of kings, warrior of warriors, basin scrubber of basin scrubbers, whose beard is as long as his phallus may glad tidings and ample treasures forever fall upon thy feet."

Pascias was as amused by the absurdity as the Satrap, and took the hint.

"Very well then. One highly predictable itinerary for the Tirgati king's audience. I am assuming gold?"

Draxus waved a disinterested hand. Pascias continued to fill in the blanks.

"Five talents, very well. Spices to match and a train of horses?"

The Satrap sat up from his reclined position to watch a pair of torchlights beginning the ascent up the steep climb to his villa. He stood, and left Pascias to attend to the minutiae.

[Ariadne Fyrian]

The wood opened up to a long stretch of beachland, and Ariadne breathed the salty sea air deep into her lungs. It was a glorious scent, and one that she had grown up on. Gulls scattered to the nine winds as her horse tore along the beach, hooves digging into the sand to propell itself faster. Behind her rode Glasswater and his small cadre. The had bee left a fair enough distance behind her, as she given rein to her mount, who'd opened up with his powerful muscles and brought her ever closer to fate.

Horse and rider sped along the coastline, veering onto a small strip of beach that extended out to the sea. At its' tip was a small landing boat, and beyond that, farther out to sea, was her father's ship.

The Chiron.

As she neared land's end, Ariadne braced herself as her horse plowed into the water. The powerful animal slogged ahead with a vengeance, but the Glaucan woman needed his aide no longer, and dove from her saddle and into the cool water.

Using the landing boat would take far too long.

She'd be able to reach the Chiron quicker if she simply swam herself.

[Csephion Draxus]

Pascias was sated with the duldrum of a slave's duty, and the Satrap attended to more pressing issues.

The two priests returned to his atrium, their sea silk tunics still lightly damp and leaving faint trails of moistened marble tile behind them. The foremost priest bowed deeply.

"Draxus of the Csephii, Satrap of Phressia, we return as heralds of Denetion Medavantis, Lord of the Dominion of the Sea. He has accepted your offering of vitae and found it pleasing. He brings you a message."

The second priest presented a peach-colored conch shell, and pulled a ribbon of silk, on which text had been written.

"Search far and wide to the vast corners for naught, Satrap. The Imperator was delivered from the sea unto Asga in the west, sole to escape Denetion's displeasure. Deliver alms to the poor, affix light unto your spars, and beware ill omens from black birds feasting on carrion. This is the will of Denetion Medevantis, Lord of the Dominion of the Sea."

Draxus's jawline tightened as he carefully spooled the silk around his finger before slipping it off. He walked away without a word, gesturing for a treasury slave to dispense payment to the priests' for services rendered.

Enough bloody attrition from the sea. It was apparent he would have to right this folly himself.

"Send a runner to the garrison."

The Satrap snapped at a citizen attendant to his office.

"Muster one Talon of personal guard. I intend to leave for Asga at dawn."

[Ariadne Fyrian]

The water was cool against her skin.

Ariadne allowed the familiar motions of the sea to aide in her own efforts, and she drew alongside the Chiron's hull. It was weatherbeaten and the paint had long ago been stripped by crashing waves.

She reached an arm up to grasp at the anchorchain, and hauling herself up hand-over-hand, Ariadne scaled the side of her father's flagship.

It wasn't a grand vessel, but it was elegant in its' own right, and was the sturdiest craft to sail Midgaurd's oceans. She'd been on many other ships, but the Chiron was always home; always the backbone of the Fold. It had withstood many beating from Necian triremes, and stood to deliver in return the splintered wounds that it recieved. To her, there was simply none other of its' kind.

Hands grasping at the railing, Ariadne pulled herself aboard, fierce red hair dripping and falling heavily around her features. She left a trail of water in her wake, ignoring the stares of her fellow shipmates as she stalked toward her father's cabin.

Throwing the door open, the Glaucan stood in the low doorway for only a moment.

She turned to look over her shoulder at those that'd gathered in a loose group behind her. The looks on their faces were tired, with a sense of expectance of what would come in the next few hours. Glaucan and Freemen alike, though always a proud looking assortment of pirates, held among them the disturbing air of having had their energies sapped.

Ariadne scolwed, grinding her teeth, and stepped into the captain's cabin, shutting the door loudly behind her.

[Csephion Draxus]

Dawn arrived, and the Satrap greeted it without hardship. For as privy as he was to noble living, he was also no stranger to military life, and operating on little sleep was a trifle. Pascias too was alert, though dependent on a tonic made of peppercorns, honey, vinegar, and rose water to stifle a headache. Around them was arranged the honorarium, armor and helmets faintly lit at the edges by the rising sun on their backs. A plume of bright feathers atop one man's helmet and a richly patterned cape noted the Captain of the Talon. He saluted the Satrap with a fist across his heart, thrust outward as it thumped his breastplate.

"Compliments of the Martial Praefect, my Satrap."

The Captain raised the ornate faceplate of his helmet, revealing a passingly handsome face rendered imperfect by a scar that hooked over his nose and down his cheek in a severe canyon.

"The Mare Praefect informs me that he has affixed light to his triremes spars, as you command."

Draxus glanced to Pascias, who recalled the other particulars.

"Domus, the portions of the ram were dispensed to beggars with 100 aquilae, as asked."

Draxus smiled.

"Very well. Let us not bring cause to offend Denetion. He is of ill temper of late it seems."

The Captain gestured ahead, ready to accompany the Satrap and his retainers with the honorarium toward the piers, where the Glaucan flotilla awaited them, to carry the group across the short span to Asga.

[Ariadne Fyrian]

She had kept her vigil throughout the night, and when dawn approached Ariadne emerged from her father's cabin.Her cabin now, she knew as much. Kariun Fyrian had passed at the toll of the midnight hour, leaving his legacy to her. The Fold was hers to command, and the Golden Lantern was hers to deliver.

In the time before his dying breath, Kariun had shared with her the reason for their newest endeavor, and how the tides had turned, his intentions shifting from something so simple to something far more devious. Perhaps it had been his hatred for the Necians that drove him to do as he did. She could not share in his anger towards them, but Ariadne would not defy his dying wish.

When she emerged out onto the deck of the Chiron - her ship - the first face she saw was that of Mr. Glasswater. He served her father faithfully, and he gave her a solemn nod that told her he would serve her in the very same way.

"Ariadne?"

She gave a fierce look to Glasswater, and squared her shoulders back . One hand came up to rest atop the pommel of her cutlass.

"That is not my name, Mr. Glasswater."

Her chief navigator grinned wolfishly then, and gave a single guffaw.

"Ha! Right you are, Fyrian!"

[Csephion Draxus]

<center><b>Tirgatia</b></center>


The squadron of Necian triremes had arrived at the western kingdom without incident. The king, having been given no notice of the envoy, was at first put to alarm, but the lead trireme broke ranks and pushed ahead, garlands hanging from its timbers with an icon of the Goddess Ulea seated on a high mast. Having some notion of Necian pantheon, the King understood that Ulea presided over peaceful concord and union. Engagement of violence under Ulea's icon was sacrilege.

The trireme pushed into the small harbor of the coastal kingdom, and the King presented an envoy to the Necian honorarium who prostrated himself in greeting.

"Greetings to our guests and great friends from the eastern sea. To what do we owe this auspicious meeting?"

Draxus, escorted by his Captain and flanked as always by Pascias in the background, greeted his host with magnanimous poise.

"I am thankful of your hospitality, my Tirgat host. I travel to seek to honor the sanctity of the Tirgat king and his throne, and to discuss the mutual prosperity of our friendly nations."

Behind him, he could almost sense Pascias smiling in silent affirmation of his master's tactful delivery. The envoy was suitably flattered. This augured well for the Satrap's creative diplomatic holiday.

[Mr. Glasswater]

Glasswater was of a quiet mind for the most part as the day carried on. His vocal amusement at Ariadne's reappearence aside, the matters of the day would be solemn indeed. Kariun Fyrian's burial was an affair that had not been anticipated, as his death was so very largely unexpected. Perhaps he had transgressed upon Denetian in some way? Any number of the Lesser Gods he knew Kariun to regularly curse, and so it very well could have been one of them, taken to anger by the pirate Captain's raging tongue.

But Glasswater was himself more inclined to believe that Denetian had simply favored the Necian's in this go-round. The Necian soldiers no doubt made promises and vows to the God of the Sea so that their precious Golden Lantern would be returned. The tall Glaucan knew that Denetian rolled every which way, so much like the waves of the oceans that he ruled over. It was only a matter of entreating him kindly enough.

But, he also knew the true destination in Kariun's mind for the Golden Lantern. He'd been Fyrian's only confidant in that matter, and now he suspected Ariadne knew as well.

She was not so bent against Necia as her father had been, but Glasswater suspected that she would follow Kariun's last wishes in some form or another. It only remained to be seen how she would next act.

Kariun Fyrian was given back to the waters that he'd for so long loved, and for the remainder of the day the Chiron's crew would go about making the needed repairs. She still floated, thanks to Denetian for that much mercy at least, but she was still in a sorry state. Her sails were torn and tattered, and supplies had been swept out to sea by the raging waves of the storm.

Glasswater and Fyrian would instead spend their time in her cabin, discussing the plans for the Golden Lantern, and whether they would begin riding southward. And if they were to strike out over land, how many she would deem necessary to take with her, and when they would be leaving the Chiron behind.

He sat opposite Fyrian at a table placed in the center of her cabin. Laid flat along the table's entirety was a map of Asga, painstakingly and lovingly detailed with each city and coastal port on the continent. And atop that was an assortment of other maps and compasses, daggers and mapping tools.

Glasswater leaned back in his chair, wide hands spreading flat the papers on the tabletop.

"We are to ride toward the southlands, then?"

[Ariadne Fyrian]

Fyrian idly stared at the larger map along the table's surface. That her father had wanted to take the Golden Lantern south had been a bit of a surprise, but one that she could understand the reasoning behind. Certain Necian figureheads had asked him to start a war, and such a war he planned to start!

"Southward," she sighed while leaning forward a bit on the table to gaze at an upper portion of the map.

"It would seem so. We will need to pass through Tirgatia for proper landward traveling supplies though."

"And how many will we be taking with us?"

"Only you and I. We can travel faster with just the two of us, and it will leave the rest of the men to finish repairs on the Chiron that much faster. I will leave Blackpool in charge."

Glasswater nodded in agreement, and Fyrian stared long at him.

"This war my father wished to start. It will be much bigger than the Necian's desired."

[Csephion Draxus]

By virtue of Tirgatia's proximity to proper civilized culture, the nature of their ways was such as to not be unfamiliar to Necian taste. The king held audience with Draxus and his retinue within his palace, and afforded the honorarium pleasant accomodation during their stay. In the palace itself, triclinia were set around a massive hardwood and ivory table, and the guests were seated to the periphery of the king, with the Satrap at his right side in a place of honored setting. The dining couches were plush and silken, and Draxus propped his left shoulder amid a pillow as he discussed matters of high politik with his host. The dinner was full of pomp and ostentatious creativity as was the fashion, with courses of flower-stuffed pheasants, spiced and candied mice, braised tongue of Gorrath with a sauce of rare lingberries and gold flakes. Olives pressed into the beaks of whole songbirds, roasted whole on a spit were a pleasant topic of interest as handsome young men played the triple pipes and arranged garlands on the heads of the kings guests. The Tirgat King boasted of his bountiful marble quarries and inquired as to Necia's interest.

"Ever intrigued by the cut of your handsome stone, good King."

Draxus sipped from a ram's head cup, watching a nude woman doing a pantomime to the flute music, acting out the temptations of Seria amid the God Liberius.

"In Phressia, marble is always in demand. I am sure by the nature of my colleagues envy, you will find suitable trade in them as well."

This pleased the swarthy-skinned king, and he nibbled at a mouse while the performance went onward.

"Will you bring a petition on our behalf to Demos? Pirates swarm my land like flies on a corpse. In the interest of our trade, they must be put to the sword."

The Satrap rolled an olive between a thumb and forefinger, considering his words.

"I assure you that I share your concern. In fact, recent pirate activity on this coast has not escaped my attention. What news do you have of it?"

[Ariadne Fyrian]

Her orders had been given to Blackpool, a burly, tattooed Glaucan, and without parting words, Fyrian and Glasswater set off. Atop her mottled grey gelding once more, she urged the horse into a gentle lope. Her navigator as well sat astride his own jet black mount, and they turned the sea to their backs and their sights toward Tirgatia.

It wold not be a necessarily hard ride, as the land was gentle and the trails easy to follow.

Each wore loose and flowing traveling clothes to ease their movements, and hide the assorted arms they had chosen to take with them.

The Lantern itself was safely secured in one of Fyrian's saddlebags, carefully wrapped in a layer of linen, then silk, and then finally burlap. Bundled up, it was nothing more than any other unassuming parcel that any given traveler would keep in their packs.

The ride to Tirgatia would last the better part of the day, and the two travelers opted to ride in silence. They had nothing noteworthy to discuss between themselves, and so each tended to their own thoughts.

They would not need much in Tirgatia itself, only dried meats and bread, as well as other sundries needed for hard riding.

For once they'd left the city, they would very literally flee to the south. They couldn't afford distractions, and both had agreed to run their horses into the ground if they had to, to get to where Kariun had so wished them to go.

[Csephion Draxus]

The King quaffed his wine, and continued.

"No less than Fyrian himself I'm told."

Sensing the Satrap's curiosity ripen, he continued conspiratorially.

"I hear he is of some interest to you?"

Draxus smiled politely, prying a piece of Gorrath tongue with his fingers and popping it in his mouth.

"A great deal of interest, good King. A great deal. I think that in the scheme of things, finding Fyrian would be very good for our mutual business."

The King snapped his fingers, bringing a man from the door clad in military regalia. He stooped over the King as he whispered something. That done, the soldier stood, and left promptly.

"There is a trireme perched off our north coast. It looks to be quite damaged. There was a storm out to sea in days recent, and we suspect it limped ashore in its wake."

The word of a storm piqued his interest, and the Satrap hung onto the king's words. The trireme could have been of the Imperator's squadron, or it could be a pirate ship.

"I would very much like to see this ship, good King."

[Mr. Glasswater]

Glasswater reigned his jet black horse to a stop at a crossroads in the road that they'd been traveling on. A wooden post jutted up from the ground in the center, with markers showing the direction needed to take for some of the closer cities in the area. Tirgatia was one of them.

"We still have a decent enough distance to cover."

He gestured to the south while shifting in his saddle.

"After we've gotten what we need in Tirgatia, it will be well for us to simply ride south and not bother with roads and trails. They could bring us unwanted attentions. We'd best ride over the land itself."

[Ariadne Fyrian]

Fyrian nodded her agreement, eyes going to where Glasswater indicated. He was correct, and while the terrain would be at times harder to traverse without following any of the roads, it would be safer.

"Yes."

She would've liked to approach Tirgatia from along the coastline, but knew also the danger that that might bring. The had to appear as - while still Glaucan - more inland traveling wanderers simply looking to restock their supplies.

Nudging the grey, Fyrian sent it once more in motion, Glasswater also following suite.

[Csephion Draxus]

The symposium concluded with as little pomp as possible, on account of expediency. The Tirgat King with his own cavalry accompanied the Satrap and a contingent of his honorarium on horseback to the north shore. The King was annoyed at the brevity of formal interaction with his powerful ally, but understood that the possibility of tangible success against eastern pirates was a potential boon for his nation. The group raced onwards, eventually coming to a clearing that led to an open plain, and sandy beach beyond. In the distance, a familiar crescent-shaped object perched in pale blue water.

Draxus extended a hand, and his Captain, Cneidon Mako, produced a spyglass. He pressed it to an eye, closing the other. It was soon obvious that the vessel was not a Necian ship. The markings on the hull were familiar, however.

"The Chiron."

He closed the spyglass with a snap, and looked to Mako, who took the viewing device with grave understanding.

"Good King Dravian, our common enemy presents himself."

The King, eager to please his ally, was up to the unspoken task.

"Noble Satrap, my men wish to give you an offering of blood, and to cement our goodwill."

His own continent of cavalry whinnied, and stepped forward to form a battle line. Draxus smiled at these useful pawns.

"I would like to extend my honorarium to you as well, as a kindness."

The King looked at Captain Mako, and at the small phalanx behind him, and nodded. What better seal for friendship than in blood shared?

[Ariadne Fyrian]

Aboard the Chiron

Blackpool was as good as his word, and had set the crew about to the much needed repairs. With Fyrian and Glasswater gone, it fell to him to ensure the Chiron was more than seaworthy once they returned. And not only that, but the longer they were anchored off the coast, the greater the chances were that they'd be discovered.

Blackpool was certainly not a part of the more superstitious types aboard the ship, but he knew enough of what would and wouldn't anger Denetian. He was not of the mind to place himself on the bad side of any of the Gods this day, or anytime in the near future.

Standing at the far end of the deck, and staring out toward the open sea, the Glaucan had to quell his urge to slip over the side and into the cool water.

"Blackpool!!"

It was the lookout, scrambling down from the uppermost point of the mast, and Blackpool turned to watch the wiry Freeman make his way dowards.

"Necians at the beach, Sir!"

The Glaucan scowled at that, growling out a curse to his sudden bad luck.

"How many, Eidolon."

"Enough to cause us trouble."

Blackpool let out another curse, then raised his voice.

"Eyes to land, dogs! Necians landward! Raise what's left of our sails and put us further out to sea!"

All efforts at repair forgotten, the crew of the Chiron moved as one as they obeyed Blackpool's command.

[Csephion Draxus]

Draxus glanced to Mako.

"How far by horse to our squadron?"

The Captain glanced in the distance, estimating the time it would take.

"At full pace, a messenger could reach them within an hour."

He considered the prospect. Already the Chiron was readying sail. An hour for a messenger, and perhaps another for the squadron to intercept meant that the possibility of losing the pirate ship was high, but not certain.

"Send a messenger at once."

Mako gestured to a subordinate, who immediately took off on his horse, tearing the ground up beneath him.

Draxus looked to the King.

"King Dravian, do you have an affinity mage among your soldiers who follows Denetion?"

The King's eyes passed to a tall man with receeding hair and a scraggly beard, sitting atop the horse nearest him. With a smile, Draxus looked to Mako, and tapped him on the shoulder.

"Go with him. See what can be done of our watery conundrum."

Mako and Dravian's man, Hofri, both approached the beach head.

[Ariadne Fyrian]

Blackpool watched through his own watchglass at the actions of the Necians. He saw the Necian messenger break ranks and race for the distance. No doubt to call upon reinforcements. The Glaucan ground his teeth at that thought. They were in no condition to stand and fight; not after the beating that they took during the storm.

They would have to escape. There was no choice other than to flee.

"Bend your backs, you lot! They've sent for reinforcements."

He turned back to stare through his watchglass, seeing as a Necian and Tirgat man closed to the beach head.

No doubt a man for Denetian, he thought grimly.

"Nimshi!"

A Glaucan girl, no older than twelve appeared from seemingly nowhere, and Blackpool stared down at her as she stood on her toes to lean on the ship's railing. He motioned to the two in the distance.

"Go. Entreat upon Denetian and ask him for deliverance. Say to him whatever it is that you say and beg him to smile at least this once upon us."

The little girl, her crystal blue eyes wide, hopped nimbly up to crouch on the railing, then with a slight pause, dove into the water below.

[Csephion Draxus]

Mako and Hofri moved as one toward the lapping waves, and kneeled in the sand. They placed open palms over the water's edge, closing their eyes as they said nothing. In moments, the breaths they exhaled came out in steam, as the two water adepts began to work through Denetion's gifts, chilling a channel of water between themselves and the pirate vessel.

Ice began to form in the salty chop as the temperature plummeted, threatening to not only snare the Chiron in an icy cage, but to also form a solid bridge from the land to the enemy ship.

"Ha ha ha ha, wonderful!" The King clapped his hands in hearty approval.

Draxus watched with a bit more reserve, curious to see if the stratagem would bear fruit.

[Ariadne Fyrian]

Nimshi was considered something of a feral child, drawn from the sea and cared for by Kariun's crew. They looked upon her as a good omen, and she had free reign of the entire ship. She did not speak very often, but her natural affinity for water and its' magic was a great boon to the Fold. She was powerful in her young age, and there were more than half among the Fold that thought her a daughter of Denetian.

There was no real way to know. All that could be told though was that the girl was strong with water.


The cool underdepths welcomed her, and Nimshi swam a short distance beneath the waves toward the beach. When she was halfway there she poked her head up into the air, floating lazily and watching the Necian and Tirgat work their magics. She could feel their work as well, since the water had become so much cooler the closer that she got to the shore.

The ice bridge grew steadily closer, and Nimshi carefully pulled herself up atop it. She stood with bare feet on the ice, staring toward land and the Necian soldiers in the distance.

She got to her knees then, her little hands running invisible patterns over the ice. She whispered words to Denetian that only he would hear, and then she spoke to the water itself. Sweet words that could only come from a child she breathed. She blew gently on the ice she knelt upon, and continued to draw her patterns.

And as she drew with her fingers, the ice beneath her began to pool once more with water, the temperature rising.

[Csephion Draxus]

Mako and Hofri continued to work, but the girl's affinity power was possibly even greater than their own ability put together. As they worked to build the ice bridge, she worked to bring it down.

Draxus was annoyed at this stalemate, and looked at one of the soldiers in his honorarium.

"You there!"

The soldier, realizing that the Satrap had called upon him, sprinted forward front and center.

"Domus!"

He looked over his shoulder, and back toward the ice bridge.

"How adept are you with a javelin?"

The soldier surely knew what the Satrap had in mind, but didn't dare object to it. All enemies of Necia were subject to death.

"Up to one hundred paces, Domus."

[Ariadne Fyrian]

Nimshi whispered her sweet words to the water, soothing the ice with comfortable warmth. She told the water secrets and stories to make it laugh with her, to feel the heat of life. Not the cold chill of death.

And the water listened to her. Denetian it seemed was looking favorably to her, and Nimshi thanks him greatly with silent praises.

Emboldened, the girl hopped a few paces closer; still nowhere close to the two working their own magics, but curiosity at their attempts had tugged upon her well enough.

With the palm of her hand, she wiped a smooth arc along the ice in front of her, still unrelenting against the two and undoing the work that they were so intent upon.

[Csephion Draxus]

The Satrap wasn't going to be undone by some Glaucan whelp.

"Do your duty."

The Necian soldier trotted forward to the beach, and stood parallel to the two water adepts as they worked tirelessly to maintain the bridge. He judged the distance, held a hand to test Varo, the God of western wind, and carefully stepped onto the portion of the frozen bridge that the water adepts still controlled. He carefully drew his javelin from the leather thong at his shoulder, wrapping the thong carefully at the shaft of the weapon as he looped the leather around his throwing hand's index finger.

With a quick hop-step, he loosed his weapon, sending it into a high arc, with the intention of nailing the girl onto the ice.

[Ariadne Fyrian]

So busy offering her sweet words to the water was she, that Nimshi only caught sight of the impending danger at the motion of the Necian soldier. Her head snapped up, eyes searching the sky for the javelin.

Panic set in for a fraction of a second, and the Glaucan girl scrambled to the side and rolled into the water. The shock of the chill almost made her resurface, but she instead dove deeper down towards the ocean floor.



On the Chiron

Blackpool pounded a fist against the railing, cursing the Necians. He should've known that they would try something as such. But he worried not for Nimshi. That child always found her way back.

"Keep us moving! Get us as far away as possible!"

At least the little Glaucan had bought them time enough to put more distance between them and the affinity mages.

A small comfort at best.

[Csephion Draxus]

Draxus watched with immovable expression as the Chiron began to move expediently away from the shore. The Glaucan girl was undone, but there was now doubt that the ice would be able to reach the pirate ship in time to hold it fast.

King Dravian was more enthusiastic.

"Noble Satrap, my archers can sit astride this ice and deal death to pirates. Do not despair."

He gestured to his assembled archers, who were eager to fight. They dismounted their horses, and sprinted forward, ready to march down the ice bridge and to rain arrows on the pirates in their attempt at flight.

[Ariadne Fyrian]

Under the water, Nimshi still worked her magics. She moved herself to beneath the ice bridge, running her hands along its' undersides. She would not allow a Necian soldier and his javelin to best her that easily.

She paused in her work though, as she felt the unmistakeable pounding of feet over ice.

The palm of her left hand pushed against the ice as she propelled herself closer to the shore while keeping under cover of the Necian's and Tirgat's bridge.

She waited then, both hands on the ice and feeling as men passed over atop her. The sounds of the boots crunching over ice was muffled, as were their grunts.

So close to the shore was she now that she could feel the seabed under her feet, and the chill of the water was something she had distincly decided was far too cold for her.

It was time to call Denetian to action, and to stir up his mighty waters. The heat of life over the chill being spread.

Both hands pressed against the ice bridge, and Nimshi growled out a string of bubbles as she entreated Denetian for strength and warmth.

He was gracious.

The bridge began to groan with the weight of Tirgat archers, and Nimshi blew out another stream of heated bubbles towards the ice she pushed up on.

A single crack popped, lancing outward and spreading to either side as the strain of having to support so many men was its' undoing.

[Csephion Draxus]

"Aaaaiiiieeeeee!!!"

The cries of the archers as their ice bridge collapsed could easily be heard from the Satrap's vantage. He turned away, knowing that the overreach at the hands of Dravian was folly. The King fretted visibly, but didn't despair at the setback. The men were hardly in danger of drowning this close to shallows, but it did mean that their attempts to bring the pirates into account were undone.

"Where will they go?"

Draxus asked incredulously to no one in particular. The Chiron was still a wounded creature. It's timbers were fraying and its sail was in tatters. They could move by power of oar, but that would only bring them so far.

He mounted his horse again.

"So much for a quick decapitation. Fyrian will wait."

He began to turn back, on the road leading back into Tirgatia.

"My good King?"

Devian was visibly frustrated at the setback, but took solace in the Satrap not being particularly annoyed. He was right. The pirates had nothing but hostile land and water around them at all sides.

[Ariadne Fyrian]

Tirgatia

Tirgatia was a beautiful enough city, but it was still a city regardless. And no matter how comfortable Fyrian found herself on land, the water would always be her home. Men and their land held enough fun, but beneath the waves was something else entirely.

As she and Glasswater waded through the throngs of people crowding the main marketplace, she couldn't help but cast a frown upwards at having to deal with such business. It would be good when they were back on their way. And thankfully they did not need much here; only enough to take them south. And once finished with that business, she would be once again on the deck of the Chiron, sailing for rich waters and plentiful bounty with her crew.

Idle chatter among the market goers was interesting enough to listen to, and Fyrian found herself absently listening in on those that she passed. Glaswater too it seemed had taken to such an interest, and looked at her sharply.

The words that both were hearing were not sitting comfortably.

Word of the Satrap, Draxus, having arrived was rampant among the lower classes. They wondered what he was doing here, and what sort of delectible foods King Dravian had served him.

Fyrian's green eyes narrowed at that. Had served.

It wasn't long before she overheard the next, much more alarming news.

The Satrap had traveled with the King northward to one of the inlet shores on word that a crippled vessel had made berth.

Which meant he'd gone after the Chiron. Her ship. Her father's ship. Her grandfather's ship.

For her, there was no option. Unlatching the saddlebag that held the Golden Lantern, she pushed it towards Glasswater.

"Take this."

The male Glaucan had too heard the words of those they passed, and refused to take the leather pack.

"No. They can protect themselves well enough. Nothing will come of that."

Fyrian again pushed it toward him.

"Take it, and go south. I'll not leave them like that. I'm ordering you."

Glasswater was silent then, glowering at her. He could not refuse such an order from his captain, and grudgingly took the saddlebag.

"I will wait for you in Ha'lainn Inniu."

Fyrian only nodded, and wheeled her grey about. She urged the horse into a clipped trot, disregarding the pedestrians about her as they rushed to move out of her way.

[Csephion Draxus]

The Satrap and the King turned about, heading along the way to Tirgatia and returning with the honorarium and the King's troops.

"Good King, it is not a hardship. I fully expect to have Fyrian brought to account upon his knees, and to kiss Vengeon's phallus for his crimes against us."

Dravian was reassured by the Satrap's optimistic appraisal, if only for the aspiration to curry favor with the powerful leader. He picked up speed on his horse, drawing parallel to the Satrap.

"Fyrian will find no quarter in my kingdom and I will personally see to it that his carcass is crucified and nailed into the highest point in my kingdom for everyone to see."

Draxus smiled at that. He enjoyed Dravian, sycophant as he might be. The lapdog did indeed have moxy.

[Ariadne Fyrian]

Leaving Tirgatia was easy enough. She was given no trouble from anyone, and spurred her horse faster as she sped along the road leading back northward. From what she'd overheard, the Satrap had left long enough ago that he'd already be at the cove where the Chiron was anchored. She would have to be cautious.

Veering her horse to the side, Fyrian sent it off the road a small distance, choosing to ascend a ridge that ran alongside it. The ridge afforded her a view of the coastline, and would allow her to see the damage that the Necian had no doubt caused to her ship and crew when she grew close enough.

Now though, it was simply a race against time.

[Csephion Draxus]

As the Satrap and the King continued back to Tirgatia, a contingent of the King's cavalry raced on ahead, trotting up an incline and off the trail. The Satrap looked to the King, who was just as intrigued as he was.

"Perhaps there are brigands on the road?"

Draxus looked upward at the rising ledge of sheer rock. From below, he could see little to suggest banditry, but he trusted the King's men as well as he could be expected to.

[Ariadne Fyrian]

Fyrian had not expected the sight the she was fast approaching. Below, a group of Necians and Tirgat soldiers alike were marching back to Tirgatia. She pulled her gelding to a slow stop, watching in growing curiosity as they grew closer.

Was this the Satrap, Draxus, and King Dravian? There looked to be no prisoners among them from what she could see, and for a moment it made her heart leap. That meant one of two things; that the Chiron had successfully fled, or the Necians had slaughtered them all.

But no. These men did not have the weariness of battle around them. That only meant one thing, and at that Fyrian let both her curiosity and a smile grow.


She took the grey down the ridge, still far enough from the group that she'd not be immediately seen, and once more in the road, she nudged her horse forward at a walk.

It would be good to meet this Draxus. To see the man with her own eyes so that she'd know who to avoid in the future.

She might not've shared her father's intense dislike of Necia, and she was open-minded enough to allow herself the opportunity to sip wine with the enemy. That to him she would be nothing but a simple Glaucan made the pot that much sweeter.

[Csephion Draxus]

The flight of fance of the Tirgat cavalry proved ill founded. The ride was a peaceful one. The column of men continued without impediment toward the city-state. As they neared a narrowing in the path, a single traveler going the other way caught the group's attention, and with deference, the King drew the cavalry to the side to allow the traveler the right of way.

[Ariadne Fyrian]

Fyrian smiled ever-politely to those soldiers that had moved from her path. The only hardships they'd seen on this day had been to march from their homes to the coast; and now they were marching back.

She sat casually in her saddle, enjoying herself immensely as a sort of heady rush filled her veins.

But, the Glaucan did not continue through the ranks. She stopped in front of the Satrap, staring hard at him with a gaze that took him in in his entirety. It was not an unkind stare, but it was certainly not a hidden one either.

"You are the Satrap, Draxus," she started plainly.

[Csephion Draxus]

Draxus was intrigued by such an ostentatious creature as this before him. He glanced briefly at Dravian, whose expression led him to the assumption that this Glaucan woman was unknown to the king. Who, therefore, was she, to speak to a Satrap so directly?

Draxus smiled at the intrigue.

"I am."

He looked at her in the same critical eye that she had greeted him with. She didn't carry herself as a woman of fair living, but rather of man, in the way that she spoke so directly and walked without trepidation. It was a welcomed curiosity.

"Who is this traveler who has me at a disadvantage?"

[Ariadne Fyrian]

Her grey shifted his stance, but Fyrian ignored his movements. So quickly calmed from the dead run she'd previously been pushing him at, he was hard-pressed it seemed to slow so suddenly.

Instead, she moved her mount so that she was no longer in front of the Necian, but beside him.

She could well guess that her crew was safe. Blackpool had done a good job in ensuring that much. She still had to meet Glasswater, but she opted to give herself enough time to enjoy herself somewhat.

His inquiry was met with a crooked smile.

"How badly do you want to know?"

[Csephion Draxus]

"I am King, you will not insult my gu..."

Draxus raised a calm hand at Dravian's outburst at her impudence. It was crude, but the Satrap was still intrigued by this specimen.

"Do you regularly speak to nobility in such a coy way?"

[Ariadne Fyrian]

Her crooked smile grew, and Fyrian settled herself a little more comfortably in her saddle. The King's outburst and subsequent silence was music to her ears. The Satrap held power with a simple gesture; that was easy enough to see.

"A man is still a man, Satrap. If he has a title, it only means that his name is longer."

She waved a dismissive hand then, turning to look ahead of them at the ranks of soldiers.

"I am Ariadne, if that will satisfy your curiosity enough."

Another sly grin as she looked sideways at him, and she nodded at his honorarium.

"Is it common for Necian nobility to be out with their soldiers playing Army in lands that do not belong to them?"

[Csephion Draxus]

"Common for great men with long names to be guarded against lesser men with shorter names, perhaps."

He afforded a laugh at his self-deprecation.

"Ariadne is a short name indeed. I hope you intend me no ill fate, as we've hardly met."

[Ariadne Fyrian]

"I am not a man with a short name," she answered coyly, "... so I doubt that I could intend you any sort of ill fates."

Fyrian scratched at an itch on her hand.

"Tell me, what brings a man such as yourself away from Phressia, to travel to Tirgatia and... enjoy the company of her King?"

[Csephion Draxus]

Now that she'd betrayed her knowledge of him, he gave her a look, insisting that she ought not to ask questions that she knew the answer to.

"By virtue of being fortunate, to extend our good fortune to our neighbors."

He glanced to Dravian, and the King smiled as well.

[Ariadne Fyrian]

Taking that as her cue, Fyrian pulled back on her reigns, and the grey took a few steps back. There was only so much time that she could waste on the Satrap, and as initially interesting as he was to her in their brief meeting, she still had to trail Glasswater.

"Than who am I to interfere in such matters of state."

She smiled sweetly, inclining her head to Draxus in a rather exaggerated nod of formality.

"Satrap."

[Csephion Draxus]

"Tell me of yourself, traveler."

Not quite ready for the intriguing woman to leave his good graces, the Satrap continued to speak to her.

"It would be a shame to not get to know such an intriguing specimen as yourself. Come and share my company at a symposium in Tirgatia. I insist."

He smiled easily.

[Ariadne Fyrian]

Fyrian stared at him then, not expecting this sudden shift in the least. On any other day she would have welcomed the chance at such subterfuge, but today it was an obstruction. But, Draxus being who he was, she knew that to deny him would be folly.

She looked away from him then, towards the south and the direction that Glasswater was undoubtedly traveling by now. This was most unfortunate.

But, her disappointment she kept to herself, and instead returned the Satraps smile as she looked back to him, offering a weak resistance that he'd know to be merely procedural.

"I'm a common-born Glaucan, Satrap. I've no business being in such company as yourself."

[Csephion Draxus]

"Common birth often yields uncommon deeds. It's a trait that Necians understand, and we celebrate plebeian spirit."

The honorarium had by now broadened out on the road, with the matter settled. Draxus, the King, and their guest were returning to the city.

[Ariadne Fyrian]

Her grey fell into step, and Fyrian only gave a nod at Draxus' words. He was right, but she wasn't so sure if he'd care to hear the truths that she pulled from his words. Biting her lip, she shifted in her saddle. First instincts would have led her to simply bolt at that moment, to damn them all to Denetion's ill wills and ride for the south to meet Glasswater. But, such an action would be ignorant, and so she stayed herself. Her mount, sensing his rider's conflicting emotions, pulled on the bit and gave a slight hop-step which she calmed with a gentle pat to his neck.

What would her father say of this? It was good that he was dead, for if he'd known that his daughter rode in the company of Necians he would have surely lashed her to the Chiron's mast for a week without food. Yes, it was good that he'd passed into the Black Waters.

Fyrian rode in silence mostly, her mind racing with the possibilities of how she could soonest leave the company of the Satrap and begin the hard ride south to meet Glasswater. It was an unkown at this point, and it drove her almost mad. True, there was the matter of the Chiron, but she knew that Blackpool would take care of her ship and crew.

She caught snippets of conversation between Dravian and the Satrap, but paid their discussions no mind. What they talked of she had no wish to hear, as her thoughts roiled around far more important matters. Such as the Golden Lantern.

[Csephion Draxus]

The procession returned to Tirgatia, speeding the King and his entourage back to his palace. With the nascent threat of pirates, the honorarium stood with the King's mounted guard, in readiness to prepare for any quick strike that may need to be inflicted. By now, the Necian squadron was already on its way in pursuit. Both Dravian and Draxus expected to hear news of a swift victory at sea within the next few hours. For now, they would resume their pleasant company, and each party washed their hands in a flower-scented basin before returning to the palace.

"Tell us of your trade, Ariadne."

The King had found a curious liking to the Glaucan by proxy of Draxus's own interest, and as they returned, the Satrap caught the eye of Pascias, who quickly glanced at the Glaucan and returned a quizzical expression to his master.

[Ariadne Fyrian]

"Nothing so grand, I assure you, your Highness. Aquisitions mostly. What I choose to sell I do, but I suppose you could call it a form of collecting, since I do not sell my wares that often."

A smile to the Satrap. She'd seen the look he'd traded with the one she could only guess to be his servant, but chose to ignore it for now.

"It is not a lucrative business, but I enjoy it."

A lie wrapped in half-truths, Fyrian found the thought of it all suddenly enjoyable. Perhaps it was that she was in the very presence of a Necian Satrap that caused such thoughts to enter her mind?

[Csephion Draxus]

The throng was seated at the tricilinia, with Ariadne offered the couch to Draxus's right. Offerings of wine and more pleasant foods were brought forward again.

"Tradeswoman then? Very good."

Breaking bread, the Satrap extended half of the loaf toward the Glaucan.

"Your people have a natural predisposition. Tell me, what city state do you come from?"

[Ariadne Fyrian]

She took the bread from him with a thankful nod, but made no move to eat of it just yet.

"No city state, Satrap. It is a small island to the north, nothing much but a stopover for sailors."

Tearing off a small bit from the half that she'd been given, Fyrian popped it in her mouth, chewing thoughtfully.

"My father was a sailor, and my mother... " she gave a smirk to Draxus, knowing that he had a good enough idea of what sort of women proliferated the smaller island stopping points.

She took a long drink of the wine that had been given to her, washing down the bread and then some.

[Csephion Draxus]

A spiced boar's phallus soup with lentils was doled out to the guests by a cook slave, and Draxus dipped a pinch of bread into a carved ivory bowl.

"The Kestrals? I used to compete in footraces there. A scandalous place as you infer, though I find the company stimulating. My noble pedigree is only sometimes useful. I find vulgarity to be an aphrodesiac."

[Ariadne Fyrian]

Fyrian gave him a grin, and took another bite of her bread. The soup that had been placed out was one not to her liking, and so she simply settled for the half-loaf Draxus had given to her.

"It is best taken in controlled doses."

She was around such behavior day in and day out, and while it was something she grew up on and instinctively participated in, Fyrian found it not unsurprising that one of the Satrap's status would be drawn to it in a small degree.

"I have dealt with it many times. Men with more refined mannerisms are far the better to deal with," another smirk, "... though such vulgarity is enjoyable at times."

She looked away then, staring at the far wall. From what she could tell, Dravian had spared no expense at entertaining his Necian guest.

"I was in the marketplace earlier this morning, and heard talk of you and your soldiers taking something of a sojourn to the coast.

"I also heard that Fyrian was about these parts."

[Csephion Draxus]

The Satrap supped on his soup, intrigued at her worldliness.

"Is he?"

He glanced sidelong at the King, and back to their newest guest.

"You know of him?"

[Ariadne Fyrian]

"Only what I hear in stories."

Fyrian settled herself more comfortably on the couch, and watched the Satrap with a curious look in her green eyes.

"They are greatly exaggerated I feel, however. I think the last one I heard from someone had him at nine feet tall with glowing yellow eyes and fangs."

That much was true at least. She'd heard from some drunkard the description, and laughed him off.

She took another sip from her wine.

"If Fyrian is anything, I doubt it is that."

[Csephion Draxus]

"Reputations have a way of becoming their own magic. Word of mouth can make great men even greater."

He tilted back the soup bowl, taking a mouthful of the dish before setting it aside in favor of his wine.

"I've met the man before. You can lay the mental image to bed. He's a person of exceptional deeds, but still no appreciable difference from the next man."

[Ariadne Fyrian]

"Is that so."

Fyrian stared at the Satrap for a long while, trying to pick him apart. Oh she knew that her father had met with him, and she also knew that Draxus would never disclose the reason for their meeting here, in such company. She would certainly not pry it out from him either, as that would only expose her.

"That is good to hear then."

She was conscious of the fact that he'd ignored her earlier mentioning of his trip to the coastline, and decided it best to not pursue. A line of discussion centered on such a thing would only open up avenues that she wished to not make excuses for. And again her thoughts went to Glasswater, and how far he'd been able to so far travel. She should have been with him, and now, sitting here in the presence of Draxus, Fyrian cursed herself for not simply staying with him.

And through all of the thoughts and worries traveling through her mind, she continued to stare at the Satrap.

As if realizing it for the first time, Fyrian set her wine on the table and moved to sit up from her perch.

"I should go."

[Csephion Draxus]

"Please, stay and make good company with us Ariadne."

Dravian gestured magnanimously, and ordered more wine to be brought forth.

"A woman of your trade could find herself with a business opportunity. The noble Satrap and I have been affixed into discussions of closer trading ties. Good merchant shippers are always a welcome handmaiden to such a happy union."

[Ariadne Fyrian]

She made no move to rise fully, but also no move to settle herself back down.

Instead, Fyrian gave an apologetic smile to the king.

"But I am no real merchant, Highness. I simply collect small bits of whatever I find interesting, and occasionally sell that which I do not want.

"Nothing so far-reaching as an actual merchant shipper."

The lie felt good to tell, and she at least accepted the refill of her wine.

[Csephion Draxus]

"Fortune and Destiny are forever at war. Perhaps in securing lucrative trade between Necia and Tirgatia, you could find the riches and peace of mind to pursue more fulfilling ends?"

He raised a glass in ponderance to her. At that time, the bearded Hofri opened both doors at the far end of the palace, striding forward like a man with some purpose. He stopped before the banquet table, dropping to his knees.

"Great King, I come to report that the Necian squadron has returned."

[Ariadne Fyrian]

A Necian squadron returning? Fyrian was instantly curious as to this man and the news he brought, but cast only a dull gaze in his direction. What information did he bring? And from where had the squadron come back from?

Any thoughts over Draxus' reassurances - though idly considered - were banished.

There was a sinking feeling in her stomach, as she had to wonder if the Satrap had sent the squadron out after the wounded Chiron. And if he had, she wasn't entirely sure that Blackpool, though tough and hardy as he was, would've been able to hold back the onslaught.

To further mask any nervousness she felt, Fyrian sipped from her wine.

[Csephion Draxus]

Dravian was pleased at the news.

"And what of the pursuit against the pirate ship?"

Hofri nodded, and looked to Draxus as well.

"A successful capture, with prisoners and spoils alike."

[Ariadne Fyrian]

Fyrian coughed in the midst of her sip at the news, quickly wiping the small red line that had escaped down one side of her lower lip. She gave an apologetic stare to no one in particular, and set her cup back down on the table.

Prisoners.

This was ill news indeed, and she cursed Denetion for allowing even more hardship to befall her crew. After the loss of her father, to be captured was a grave injustice from the Gods.

[Csephion Draxus]

"Fortuitous news."

Draxus smiled, nodding towards Ariadne as he plucked a candied mouse from a gilded dish.

"Always good tidings for a tradesman such as yourself to hear of fewer pirates at sea, nay?"

He cut at the rodent hors d'oeuvres with a teardrop-shaped knife, and plucked the stuffing from it.

He looked to the Tirgat messenger.

"And what of Fyrian? Captured as well?"

Hofri shook his head.

"He was not aboard the vessel."

A slightly vexed frown spoiled Draxus' enjoyment, but he quickly recovered, and ate of the mouse stuffing, breaking more bread.

King Dravian twirled his moustache, eager now to ingratiate himself with the Satrap by making an example of what pirates they did have.

[Ariadne Fyrian]

After two attempts to relieve herself of their company, Fyrian knew that a third time would most likely bear the same fruit, and so she simply sat. She nodded at the Satrap's observation, but beyond that did nothing else.

Already her mind was working to think of a way to free her crew.

She reclined once more on her couch, reaching forward for the cup that she'd set down. She was suddenly not hungry, but would be more than willing to help empty Dravian's wine stores.

"What will you do with those that you've now captured."

[Csephion Draxus]

Dravian was all to eager to play the braggart, and his servant filled his wine to the brim as he did so.

"Beautiful Ariadne, I intend to torture them until they divulge the location of Fyrian. Once that is done, I will either have them crucified, burnt alive, or thrown to beasts. I honestly have not decided, but it will be a specatular death. Everyone should see what fate is in store for pirates."

Draxus listened to the sycophant King as he sorted through some exotic fruits. It all sounded rather standard, and it most certainly had to be done. Still, it was unfortunate that Fyrian had vanished. He would at least like some word as to his fate.

[Ariadne Fyrian]

At that, Fyrian affixed a rather cold stare to the Tirgat King.

"Rather brutish, don't you think?"

She could see him opening his mouth to object, and held up a finger to stop him.

"There are much more gentler ways to make a man talk. For as much of the stories of Fyrian that I've heard are fanciful and largely exagerrated, I would not discount the loyalty of his men. I've heard tell of those he commands dying happily at his word. With that in mind, it is not hard to come to the conclusion that they would indeed rather be crucified, burnt alive, or thrown to beasts before telling you where their captain is."

She looked to Draxus then.

"Loyalty in a man is not something to be beaten out. It must be coaxed and enticed."

[Csephion Draxus]

This was amusing. Draxus eagerly took of his wine, swimming through the Glaucan's words on the matter at hand.

"A clever stratagem to be sure. I was unaware at the opportunity for interrogation that sea tradesmanship afforded, but you've aroused great curiosity in me. What, then, would you do with these pirates?"

Topics of such deep discussion were always wonderful to share at symposia, and the rest of the King's retainers also hung on Ariadne's every word.

[Ariadne Fyrian]

Fyrian also partook of her wine, and turned a rather lazy stare to the Satrap.

"Offer them pardons, riches, citizenship, or whatever else suits your fancy, in return for their knowledge of Fyrian. It is already understood that they will refuse, but it would do you well I imagine to plant the seed of riches and a life of safety in their minds. They are men and Glaucans hard-traveled, and are no doubt battle-weary."

She licked her lips, running her tongue over her teeth.

"Take them to Necia, show them the riches of your cities. Make promises that you've no intentions of keeping, and tell them that all they must do for such status is give you what you want to know.

"Which, I think is going without saying."

Fyrian looked rather self-satisfied with herself, taking another sip of her wine.

"It is a delicate dance that you must do, but one that will award you with what you ultimately seek I believe."

She was having her fun, and it showed in her eyes.

[Csephion Draxus]

"Mmm."

Draxus pried an olive from a roasted songbird's beak, popping it in his mouth.

"And if the extension of graciousness is in turn interpreted as a weakness?"

He wasn't averse to the notion, but playing contrary to her assertion was a decent crucible to distill the idea into something pure and precise."

[Ariadne Fyrian]

"It is a risk you'd need to take."

Fyrian stared at her wine before taking another drink.

"But my way has less potential to fail."

She waved a hand, inclining her head towards the Satrap.

"Take them to Phressia and show them the splendors of your city state. They are greedy men; appeal to that aspect in them."

[Csephion Draxus]

Draxus looked from Ariadne, to Dravian, and back to the Glaucan. He tilted his wine upwards again.

"Good wine, this."

He passed the empty vessel off to a slave, who dutifully refilled it.

"The appeal of merciful restraint is a foreign novelty. I'm taken with it's unorthodox nature. That being said, I still believe that some debt of blood should be paid, if only to give them some visceral idea of the alternatives of declining my good favor."

Dravian was perplexed by this, and still obviously in favor of universal executions for the criminals.

"What do you suppose we should do, noble Satrap?"

"The nature of their offense is the most grave sort, and has put them in the illest of circumstances with Demos. While some blood must come of this, perhaps we can afford mercy with the rest."

He reached for a loaf of bread, tearing off a small portion from the whole, as an illustrative point.

"Decimation."

[Ariadne Fyrian]

Oh, she knew exaclty what he meant, and Fyrian found herself unable to stomach the thought of any of her crew put to the sword by the Satrap's wishes. She frowned, but hid the expression with another drink. It would not be an easy solution, to dissuade Draxus from any sort of blood-letting.

She turned her green eyes to him, watching as he drank of his own cup.

"It would certainly make your intentions known."

She had never been very good at seduction, and now was certainly not a time for her to try.

Instead, Fyrian simply allowed herself to listen and react. To know what the Satrap had planned was far better than anything else at this point.

[Csephion Draxus]

He nodded at her understanding.

"It is one thing to understand execution as a concept, and another to experience the full visceral impact."

He spoke without any malice, and as a physician might in diagnosing a flux and preparing a salve to combat it.

The King was ready to meet the Satrap's wishes, but confusion still reigned.

"I am not familiar with this Decimation, noble Satrap."

Draxus explained coolly as he dissected a songbird with a knife.

"Good King, it is nothing more than execution by lot. A martial tradition of sorts, carried over from my military days. An exceptional lack of meritorious behavior in rare cases will demand that an entire armed force be punished as a whole. The condemned draw lots, and every tenth man is killed by his colleagues and their sword blows."

He shrugged, tucking a bit of roasted meat away as he picked through some berries.

"The bloody spectacle would require some modification for common criminals, but I think it would be an effective method of compelling cooperation."

He glanced to Ariadne, and nodded.

"Especially with Ariadne's suggested appeal to the avarice of the remainder. I find the exercise quite cerebral."

[Ariadne Fyrian]

From over the top of her cup, Fyrian's eyes smiled at the Satrap. Perhaps it was the haze of alcohol she'd ingested, but the Glaucan found patience in his words. She would ride out this storm, and when the time was right, she would swoop down to rescue her crew.

How, that still remained to be seen. It would take more than a small bit of finesse on her part, but she was willing to put forth the effort at least.

Glasswater would have to wait. The Golden Lantern would have to wait. For as important as the war her father wished to start was, her crew superceded that.

She let her sea-green gaze rest upon Draxus in a gentle gaze.

"I only recommend that because I myself am taken to greed. It is merely a point of putting oneself in such a situation; what would it take for me to betray the one I serve."

[Csephion Draxus]

Draxus smiled openly at that.

"Thus the merchant in our midst speaks; every man has his price!"

The symposia had regained its festive demeanor, and again attractive young men and women performed musical renditions for them in the nude.

"Perhaps there is underestimated philosophy in a mercantile life that warty old men of high thought like myself have passed over out of hubris? You disarm me, Ariadne. I find myself encircled by your unorthodox reason and besieged upon by your pragmatic mind. Should I surrender?"

[Ariadne Fyrian]

Fyrian set her cup back on the table, plucking up one of the smaller loaves that rested on a gilded platter. She toyed with it at first, musing over the Satrap's words. Dravian was ignored completely as she turned a lazy gaze to Draxus.

"You speak through wine, Satrap. Need I remind you that I am only a common Glaucan."

She tore a small piece from the bread, and stared at it thoughtfully.

"But if your offer of surrender is made, I cannot help but accept it."

[Csephion Draxus]

"In wine, there is truth."

As if calling his own words into suspicion, the Satrap paused with his wine glass before his lips, giving the spiced liquid a sniff. Such festive elixir. Perhaps she was right, in that his thirst had outstripped his decency and reason.

"And what is uncommon of me, but save my title? In the end, we're still responsible for our deeds. People of small names may not be gifted of deed or wit, but when they are, they should not be drowned out by haughty bluster."

It was done then. She had charmed him to some great degree.

"Perhaps even decimation is too direct for our task at hand. I still insist that a payment of blood be not only given but so that all can see, but your clever insistence of mercies intrigues me without end."

He extended a finger slowly.

"One man. One man, and one man only will be condemned to die. I think, furthermore, that your insight might cast the desired upon illumination to make the choice clear. When we adjorn from our revelry, I insist that you choose this one man."

[Ariadne Fyrian]

A predator's smile, but one that was not so easily translated, spread across her features. It was true that, while he was himself experiencing the effects of their drink, she was as well.

Fyrian reached out slowly and wrapped slender fingers around his one.

"It is not 'our task', Satrap. It is yours. I am only offering you an alternative to outright and worthless bloodshed."

She stared absently at his hand, and with her grip, turned it over in her grasp to stare at the lines of his palm. Fyrian looked at him from over the tops of her eyes.

"And as for choosing the single unfortunate soul that will bear the brunt of your irritations, I do not think that I am at all qualified to make such a decision."

She bent forward, pressing her lips into the palm of his hands in a gentle kiss.

"That is something that would be better left to the noble Satrap."

[Csephion Draxus]

Draxus withdrew his hand slowly, regarding it and the spot in which Ariadne had kissed.

"On the contrary, I find you to be the most qualified in this room. As one who can sense the avaricious intentions of all manner of men, it could be supposed you could also find the most insensitive brigand to these desires as well."

He looked at her earnestly.

"I do not know what you think of me. I hope there is little derision. Blood must be shed for their transgressions. I do not aim to spill it recklessly or with callous abandon."

[Ariadne Fyrian]

Fyrian nodded sagely then, hoping to show that she had understood the Satrap's words fully.

"If that is your will, than I am not anywhere in a position to defy it."

She took yet another sip from her glass, and shifting her perch, regarded Draxus with a curious eye.

"But enough of this talk of bloodshed."

She still ignored Dravian, her sole focus on Draxus.

"I will tell you as I told you before. I do not look upon you with derision or any great amount of worship. You are a man like any other."

Fyrian paused, looking over the rim of her cup.

"And I am only a Glaucan woman."

[Csephion Draxus]

"Then let me ask of you this request with humility, to do the task proper justice."

He somberly extended his wine glass to hers, looking her in the eye.

[Ariadne Fyrian]

Fyrian let slip a smile of the slightest degree.

"Anything you ask, Satrap."

That he was asking her to choose one of her crew to die was paramount on her mind, but she could not allow such a repulsive thought to cross her features. Instead, she reached out with her free hand and gently wrapped her fingers around his own that held his glass.

[Csephion Draxus]

Draxus and Ariadne shared a moment separated from the revelry around them. Those green eyes seemed to cut through all pretense and everything that Draxus had built around himself; the price he paid for his name. He began to believe that she was just as egalitarian as her words dressed her up as.

"I grow tired."

He quaffed his wine, keeping a curious eye on the Glaucan.

"Please, let the revelry continue without me."

[Ariadne Fyrian]

Fyrian also finished her drink, setting it on the table before them as she moved to sit up once more. Her shoulders squared back, the Glaucan brushed a strand of fiery red hair over her shoulder.

"I regret that I must also take my leave."

A glance through half-closed eyes to the Satrap. Had she seen him right? Was there any really misinterpreting the look that he'd given to her? If she'd been at all questioning of her own powers to sway a man, she was now unsure of her previous low self-assessments.

Such a thing was good to have for one like her, and his lack of knowledge of her true self very well could allow her to slit his throat while he slept.

She slowly rose to her feet, knees creaking ever so slightly at the movement.

"I must find lodgings for the night."

Another smile to Draxus, and she politely inclined her head to him.

"I'd not expected to be returning to Tirgatia, after all."

[Csephion Draxus]

"Do not waste your time, Ariadne. As a friend of my guest, I give you a room in my palace."

The king nodded graciously and twirled his moustache. As the Satrap departed, he had a notion that Dravian's fawning would possibly be a scheme to keep Ariadne close to him, as he could see that Draxus was in some way taken of her.

[Ariadne Fyrian]

Fyrian opened her mouth to object.

"Highness, I could not impose upon your already bountiful hospitality."

A small amount of worry entered her then, and she folded her hands before her. She bit her lip in nervous thought, giving a look to the doorway that led from the opulant room. She returned her eyes to Dravian once more. He seemed determined for her to stay.

"You and the Satrap have already done much more than needed in inviting me to share your wine and entice me with offers of trade business."

[Csephion Draxus]

"Then allow me to complete a host's task, and give you a place to rest your head within my kingdom. It is but one night."

Already, the Satrap had retired to his quarters, his mind racing despite all attempts to stupify it through wine.

[Ariadne Fyrian]

She gave the King a formal bow, making the decision that it would be best to simply allow him to provide her with what he wished. She could only resist so much, and Fyrian did not wish to arouse his ire.

"I would most appreciate that, Highness."

[Csephion Draxus]

"Who is this woman?"

The interrogations began much too soon. Draxus gave a pained expression to Pascias as he opted to lie upon a couch and to read whatever correspondance his slave set up for him, while he fetched more wine.

"A merchant of some use. Weren't you the one who said it was best to give us some pretense for being here?"

Pascias was unmoved by the Satrap's linguistic feint, and went for the heart of the matter.

"Every sea merchant has the luxury of having a Satrap hang onto every word to wet her lips like some bewitched captive?"

Pascias sat the cup before Draxus, and continued the onslaught.

"You let her sway you, Domus. That woman is a sorceress!"

The Satrap gave his most favored slave a look that suggested that his exceptionally long leash didn't have that much slack left on it. Confident that his point had been made, Pascias retreated tactically, but left his suggestion on the table with no apology.

"She has more brains than ten Tirgat kings, Pascias. I find that refreshing in such a crude place."

[Ariadne Fyrian]

The room that had been allowed to her was no less than what she expected it to be; laid out with funriture of fine woods and marble accents. Silk hangings gave her temporary lodgings a somewhat airy feel. It was much more refined than she'd have expected. But, Fyrian would not refuse them, though the though of staying the night in such rich surroundings, while her crew had been no doubt herded and corralled into steel jail cells, was not as comforting.

Dismissing the handmaidens that Dravian had sent her, she moved toward the open balcony to stand out in the open air. She breathed in deeply of the faint ocean scent, her mind reeling with what was next before her.

Fyrian could make no moves, and could now not afford to simply slip out in the dead of night to go after Glasswater. It was impossible. No, she would have to ride out this storm as best as she could, reacting only when able to try and stave off the Satrap's intentions on her men.

Hands going to rest on the stone railing, Fyrian closed her eyes.

It seemed now that, much like her crew, she was a prisoner as well.

Thoughts going to Draxus then, she felt her grip tighten. What would she do with him? What could she do? She'd surprised even herself earlier in the evening, and been pleasantly rewarded with what she could only guess to be a mild interest from him. If she could cultivate that, then perhaps she had a chance at some form of retribution.

But, she was not her father, and the thought of simply killing a man for his nationality was not one that settled well with her.

[Csephion Draxus]

Pascias had some sense of mercy and left his master to his thoughts. He looked into the correspondance laid out for him, and after a moment, bored of it. He tossed the scrolls aside, and nursed his wine. Was Pascias right? He was one of the few people he trusted, and the slave had a mind sharper than almost any in Necia.

"In wine there is truth."

He looked at his glass, suddenly not sure about his previous proclamations. Was Ariadne a vulgar philosopher, or was he simply cast about on a flight of fancy?

[Ariadne Fyrian]

The night wore on, and Fyrian found herself tiring of such quiet contemplations. Constant worrying over what would come next would make her grow old that much quicker, and she opted to simply make the best of the situation she now found herself.

Taking up a decantur of wine that had been left on a low table, the Glaucan set out from the room that'd been provided for her. Where she wandered was dictated only by where she was allowed, and it wasn't long before she found herself outside in one of the many palace courtyards. Stone benches and finely groomed greenery surrounded her, and as much as she preferred the open sea around her, she could not deny the beauty that land offered.

Slowly lowering herself onto one of the benches, she set the decantur down beside her and tugged absently at a small, light blue stone charm around her neck.

She breathed in deeply, looking to the sky and driving away all thoughts of her hardships away for at least a short while.

[Csephion Draxus]

"Haven't your travels made you weary?"

The hypcrisy of it all. Draxus shuffled into the night air himself, the sound of revelry still audible in the palace within.

He'd replaced the wine glass in his hand with a scroll, and he walked into the grass, getting his feet wet on the dew that was starting to form.

[Ariadne Fyrian]

Somewhat startled, Fyrian snapped her head in the Satrap's direction. Pulled from her attempts to calm herself in the light of this storm, the Glaucan let her hand fall from the charm at her neck to rest in her lap. She'd expected to be alone, that much was easily read by the telling expression on her features.

Fyrian looked away from him then, and out towards one of the outer stone walls.

"Much has happened today that makes rest a hard thing to come by."

She blinked slowly.

"It is... not how I expected my day to come to an end."

And it certainly wasn't. When she and Glasswater had set out in the morning, she'd thought that by now the two would be riding south. Her initial panic and subsequent boldness it seemed had delivered into Draxus' unknowing hands.

"I thought you were growing tired."

[Csephion Draxus]

"Dreadfully so."

The Satrap looked back at the palace and shook his head.

"I have smaller tolerances for social activity than perhaps when I was your age."

He sat at the far end of the bench, grimacing as the daily aches in his exhaustion came to bear.

"I fear any more wine will winnow whatever wisdom I might think it has gained me to this point. My intention was to read, as all boring old men do."

[Ariadne Fyrian]

Watching him from her peripheral vision, she worked the muscles in her jaw. What to say now? It appeared that he too had not expected for anyone to be out in the courtyard.

"If you wish," she set her eyes to him then, "I can leave and let you be to your reading."

[Csephion Draxus]

He tucked the scroll away.

"Nonsense. Plenty of time for that later."

He looked at her, lines creasing his expression as he weighed her in his mind.

"Something of me displeases you greatly."

[Ariadne Fyrian]

Was she so transparent? Or was it merely the last vestiges of her father's teaching that she had somehow let slip out in small portions? At that thought, she reached for the decantur and pulled out the stopper, but kept herself from tipping the glass container up to her lips just yet; instead she rested it in her lap.

"I... find it hard to bring myself to do that which you asked of me."

And in the back of her mind, an idea began to form.

[Csephion Draxus]

"I won't pretend to infer to what end a traveling merchant knows of death."

His words felt heavy on his tongue, and he looked away.

"I know too much. Paradoxically I yearn to be ignorant."

[Ariadne Fyrian]

Fyrian took deeply from the wine, and set it back on the bench between them. It had its' own flavor that she found to be quite different than the normal drink she was used to, but it was not unwelcome in the least.

"I must confess to a small bit of untruth on my own part earlier this evening."

She scowled.

"Dravian is a brute who would not react with any calm manner at all if I were to have spoken fully in his presence.

"I know that you're not given to such reactions. I'm thankful for that."

Her scowl changed into a look of thoughtfulness as she stared ahead of her, her voice taking on an airy tone.

"I too have met Fyrian. He is as you say; an exceptionally gifted man, but not so great as his stories make of him. It was many years ago however. I was fortunate to find myself in his good graces."

Fyrian looked to Draxus.

"He was in the marketplace today. Him and his navigator, Glasswater."

[Csephion Draxus]

One of the Satrap's eyebrows raised in thought. This was a rather interesting development.

"Why are you telling me this now?"

Indeed, if she were in such good graces, why divulge anything at all? Fortune mocked the pirate prince enough as it was, with his men imprisoned, and at least one of them condemned.

He looked at her, trying to glean something from a matter perhaps unsaid.

"I would give pause before taking my intentions lightly. If I find him, I intend on bringing him back to Necia, and his life will most certainly be forfeit."

The thought did little to bring any sense of satisfaction to Draxus's face.

[Ariadne Fyrian]

"If I were to tell you while in the presence of Dravian, he would shatter this delicate matter."

He did not seem to be at ease with the end result of his last words, and it made her wonder what was in his mind. There were other pirates that plied their way about the seas and oceans of Asga; was it because her father had been the one to take the Lantern?

"I don't take your intentions lightly, Satrap. I learned that well enought his evening."

Fyrian gave pause, resting her hand once more around the decantur's neck.

"But, you asked me to choose one man, and I have made my choice. I've my own reasons for it."

[Csephion Draxus]

"I have no desire to pry into them."

He could not help but to ponder her nature in all of this. She was becoming less enigmatic, and more involved. Her connection to Fyrian made her suspect, but in no such way as to be credibly suspect.

"Who is this unfortunate soul, then?"

[Ariadne Fyrian]

A blank look was given to him then, and slowly she replaced the stopper before rising to stand. Staring down at Draxus, she searched his face for everything and nothing. He was nothing like what she'd expected from how her father described him, and a small part of her was slowly beginning to wonder just where Kariun's intense hatred had come from.

"Fyrian."

[Csephion Draxus]

He looked at her, and scoffed. Was she joking?

"I know Fyrian by sight. Not a man in that rabble is Fyrian. Make yourself plain."

[Ariadne Fyrian]

"Fyrian is who you say he is."

His look was returned almost tenfold, and she angled her head to the side in a somewhat fierce manner.

"To all others but his crew he is almost a god of theft and misfortune. His men you have in your hand, and from what I saw today, he has left them to rot, traveling with only one other far inland.

"The man who's life you snatch away is Fyrian. You need only say he is, and it will be."

[Csephion Draxus]

"That is sufficient to fool everyone, save myself."

The Satrap shook his head.

"Further, it does no task of easing the great injury he has inflicted on my nation. He has stolen from us, and it must be reclaimed."

[Ariadne Fyrian]

There was no doubting that Draxus spoke of the Lantern, but Fyrian played the fool regardless.

"He has stolen from many nations, not just Necia. No one has any right to him over the other."

[Csephion Draxus]

She spoke from some sort of abstraction that he didn't recognize. Right? What was to be said of this?

"Power gives Necia all the right needed."

He returned to a more somber thought.

"And what of your stratagem? This lamb you sacrifice has a name that is not manufactured. What matters to that poor soul if they stand accused of being the Prince of Pirates? Death lays waste to all deeds and intentions. Fyrian he may not be, but he will die just the same. Even in this cavalier bit of trivium, that can't be undone."

[Ariadne Fyrian]

"Even if you know the truth, your people will feel some sort of retribution had."

There was a moment of silence, and in that moment she undid the stopper on the decantur, tilting it up to her lips. The drink felt good on her tongue, and mellowed her frustration a small bit. Not enough for her to forget his choice of words however.

This lamb you sacrifice...

"You lay this task at my feet; one who is ill at ease with the very concept."

She fixed him with a level gaze.

"If I have put forth any sort of strategem, as you call it, it is simply to avoid death. And in return, you set at my feet the very thing I tried to push away."

[Csephion Draxus]

"It was your suggestion to mitigate the bloodshed, and I thought it clever. If you want nothing of it, then I'll simply draw a lot and be done with the loathsome thing."

He shook his head.

"I have killed so many, by the Gods I could fill a continent with the dead. There are few I regret, but every one makes me cynical. I am a bull, amok in a crystallier's workshop. I feel the sting of every shard, but leap higher and higher."

He suddenly looked at the woman, self concious at his rambling admission.

"It appears wine has made a fool of me after all."

[Ariadne Fyrian]

"Wine makes fools of us all."

Her shoulders sagged as she let her thoughts take her back to Glasswater and the Lantern. What would happen now? She truly could not even begin to guess, and despite his attitude displayed earlier in the evening, it seemed that the Satrap had reigned himself in during their short separation.

Fyrian breathed deeply of the night air.

"When will you be returning to Necia."

[Csephion Draxus]

"That depends entirely on the presence or absence of good fortune, though I will likely soon hear much yammering from the east to speed my return prematurely, I imagine."

Despite her sudden refusal to choose the condemned, the Satrap held nothing against her. She still held an allure.

"When I travel back, will you come with me?"

[Ariadne Fyrian]

Fyrian bit her tongue sharply against the involuntary 'no' that she almost let slip. Travel to Necia, and be surrounded by those that would draw and quarter her if they knew the truth? Even if it had been her father, Kariun, who'd so garnered the anger of an entire nation, she had no doubts that it would not matter in their minds. She would be in the belly of the beast.

That it meant she'd be further removed from Glasswater was also heavy on her mind. At this rate, he would most likely be in for a long wait. She locked eyes with Draxus, trying to peel away his words to get at the inner thoughts behind them.

"If that is what you wish."

[Csephion Draxus]

He nodded, certainty cutting through all of his myriad of passing dilemmas.

"I wish it. You remind me of somebody, but are a stranger to me. I think I should begin to know you."

[Ariadne Fyrian]

Fyrian inclined her head, stepping off to the side and back towards the doorway through which she'd originally entered the courtyard.

There was no need to bid any sort of farewell, as she would be again seeing him on the morrow. And for an extended amount of time beyond that as well. It was a curious mixture of inquisitive trepidation that settled in her stomach, and she quelled it with another drink of her wine as she moved through the halls and corridors of Dravian's palace.

What tomorrow brought she would only know when it arrived.