A Nascent Threat

[Csephion Draxus]

Demos, Capital of the Necian League



The Oratorium was buzzing in anticipation of Ariadne Fyrian's statements. She had been delivered a summons by the Satrapy to be questioned in reference to her father, Kairun Fyrian's plot to abscond from the Great Beacon with the Golden Lantern. There was apparently more at work than a pirate's simple desire for revenge against his hated foe. It had been arranged that for her delivery of the Lantern, and the head of her dead father, in addition to the submission of her pirate fold to the League that she would be held beyond reproach for her father's crimes, provided that she give full disclosure of the evil plot to the Satrapy.

Draxus had arrived to the Oratorium early, and was meeting with the Satraps allied with him. Opposing him was the Satrap Regulus Varo and his party, who were marginalized in their defeat to the proposal that Ariadne herself should face death for her pirate deeds. Draxus had successfully negotiated her survival, on the populist hopes that the larger threat against Necia would be discovered, uprooted, and destroyed.

Today, that threat would have a name.

[Ariadne Fyrian]

There was a sense of mild uneasiness to be felt, and Ariadne found herself clasping her hands in front of her. When she'd come before the Satrapy upon her return, she had been in a state of near panic, her bold and accusing words fueled by a fear for the young Mer she'd brought with her. There had been traces of anger as well, as when Varo had spoken she'd snapped rather magnificently at him, and despite the stern call for respect that Draxus had given, she suspected that he'd been secretly elated at her words.

As well, her apprehension for the day had been soothed by Draxus' own gentle reassurances the night before, his affections welcomed with an almost desperate hunger on her part.



In one of the many side rooms set adjacent to the main hall, the Glaucan paced. She wore her leathers, having turned away the fine garments that the Satrap had offered for this day. No. She would approach the Satrapy as herself. She'd made a small concession however, in wearing a Necian robe over her well-worn garb. It had been fastened at her shoulders, to fall to almost the soles of her boots, and gave her a foreign yet rather... Necian appearence. Her fiery mane had been pulled partially up, and her amulet held its' customary place around her neck, in plain view.

She stopped her restless pacing when one of the Oratorium guardsmen appeared in the doorway, beckoning her with a silent gesture.

Licking her lips, the Glaucan followed.

[Csephion Draxus]

Draxus rose from his assigned seat, and gestured for the chairman to grant him the floor.

"Draxus of Phressia."

The Oratorium was silent, waiting for what they already knew he'd say.

"In light of the most serious events that transpired yesterday, I call Ariadne Fyrian to the floor to answer the Satrapy's queries in regards to the insidious plot against the Golden Lantern, and the Necian State itself."

Murmurs rolled through the vaulted room as they awaited the guardsmen to bring Ariadne to the dais in the center of the room.

[Ariadne Fyrian]

She held her head high, her green eyes radiating pride as she was led to the center of the Oratorium's main chamber, and moving away from her escort, Ariadne stepped up to stand upon the raised dais.

She looked at the assembled Satraps, but never let her gaze linger too long over any of them before finally settling her stare upon the chairman.

She said not a word, knowing that it would be better to allow those around her their first words.

[Csephion Draxus]

The chairman addressed Ariadne.

"Madame Fyrian, you come before the Supreme Satrapy of the League of Necia on a formal inquiry. As you are not yet a citizen, I will act as your counsel on matters of legal compliance with the questions. It is a crime against the state to bear false witness, do you understand?"

[Ariadne Fyrian]

Fyrian gave a nod, and her voice remained level as she answered.

"I understand."

Not yet a citizen of Necia... the thought was such a strange one, as she turned it over in her mind. To become a part of the thing that Kariun had so hated and despised. It would have made her mother happy.

[Csephion Draxus]

The chairman turned to the assembly, choosing one of the multitude of risen hands.

"Ilas of Phracthya."

One of the Satraps who leaned toward Draxus rose, and spoke with a voice practiced at carrying in the Oratorium.

"What was your father's aim in stealing the Golden Lantern?"

It was a fairly procedural question to begin the fusilade.

[Ariadne Fyrian]

How direct.

"He was tasked to do so, with the promise of rewards beyond anything he could conceive."

And an equally direct - if not simple - answer. It would not do to name Ankaa so early in these proceedings; it would be foolhardy to rush the naming of Necia's new enemy. Let the Satrapy bring it out of her, bit by bit.

[Csephion Draxus]

Another Satrap brought forth a question, this one from Varo's party.

"What compensation was Kairun to be given for the task?"

Draxus watched on, leaning over to whisper something in an attendant's ear. So far, the questioning had proceeded about as expected.

[Ariadne Fyrian]

"A free reign on the southern coastlines, to do as he wished."

Fyrian clasped her hands at the small of her back, the muscles of her jaw rigid.

"As well, a charter and contract to raid Necian trade vessels with an added incentive for each corpse he could stuff into his hold."

[Csephion Draxus]

Murmurs increased in the Oratorium, and the chairman scowled at the fervor.

Another Satrap, this one among the group that was in neither of the major camps rose.

"This seems to be an unrealistic promise. Who could reasonably assure such a thing to Kairun with any credibility to cause him to believe he would collect?"

[Ariadne Fyrian]

"Unrealistic, yes. But please understand first and foremost the level of hatred Kariun harbored. It was deep enough to cloud his judgment and sway his decision. And, in all honesty, such a promise is enticing for many."

The barest of pauses, and she went on.

"Especially when it is Ankaa who makes that promise."

[Regulus Varo]

The entire Oratorium thundered at that, and it was all the Chairman could do to scold the crowd back down to a simmer. In the throng, he selected another Satrap.

"Regulus Varo"

At the opposition leader's name, the voices died down even more, curious to hear what he would say.

"Ariadne, this is a deposition, not a forum for supposition. Ankaa makes for a scandalous hypothetical, but you would have this assembly to believe in such a farce?"

[Ariadne Fyrian]

Her demeanor did not change, nor did it waver.

"I was asked a question, and I answered. If you are unsatisfied by that I am truly sorry; it is not my intention to spin false tales, else I would never have brought back the Lantern."

[Regulus Varo]

His eyes narrowed.

"Who did Kairun speak with of this plan? Who did he make arrangements with?"

[Ariadne Fyrian]

Fyrian bristled visibly at his tone, her fingernails biting into the palms of her hands as she fought to control her rising temper.

"There were many with whom this 'scandalous hypothetical' was made," she bit back.

[Regulus Varo]

Varo's patience was running thin with what he perceived to be coy and aloof handling of answers.

"This would be the proper venue to name such people who would be involved. That is why I asked you."

[Ariadne Fyrian]

"No, you accused me of spreading near-inconceivable falsehoods. Not for you, but for your peers I will answer."

She took her eyes from Varo, sweeping them across the faces gathered.

"Aheed Jhendrai, Kazza Mohaan, Monek al'Zhinn, and Jinn Ohandra."

[Regulus Varo]

A few of the names caused the all-familiar murmuring to bristle through the throng. Varo crossed his arms as he listened.

"Kazza Mohan is the Ankaaran Sultan's liason to Necia. This implication cannot be made lightly."

Varo glanced sidelong, catching Draxus's eye. He glowered briefly, reflecting upon what he had heard.

[Ariadne Fyrian]

"Do I appear to be speaking in a tone to suggest the contrary?"

She went on before he could answer, addressing the Satrapy as a whole.

"I am not here to play games. I am here because it is necessary. My father defied Denetion when he took your Lantern, and I do not wish his punishment to befall myself or those in my charge. You wished to know why he stole your relic, and I have told you."

One last scowl at Varo.

"Was I wrong in taking the actions that I did?"

[Regulus Varo]

Varo bristled at her uncouth behavior in questioning, and instead opted to get to the bottom of this, once and for all.

"Suppose this is something with substance then. What proof do you have of such a broad conspiracy, linking noteworthy men from Ankaa?"

[Ariadne Fyrian]

Her own patience was wearing thin under the constant barrage of thinly veiled vitriol emanating from him.

"There are letters that Kariun sent to those men, and they to him. Unfortunately those he received are now at the bottom of the ocean, thanks to the scuttling of my ship. However, those that he sent he signed with his signet, if it is proof that you seek.

"How else do you think my father was able to so easily take the Lantern?"

[Regulus Varo]

Varo paused for a moment, convened with two nearby Satraps, and returned to face Ariadne, seemingly placated for a moment.

"I petition the Chairman for a two hour recess to measure the validity of Madam Fyrian's statements."

The Chairman nodded, rapping his staff on the floor to temporarily adjourn the inquiry. Satraps quickly rose, bustling about to and fro. Varo made little effort to mingle. He moved straight to the floor, to Ariadne.

"Come with me."

[Ariadne Fyrian]

Aside from a suspicious narrowing of her eyes she gave no other indication of surprise at his approach. If she was put off by the Satrap's wish, she quelled them swiftly. Draxus was nowhere to be seen in the sea of bodies, but the Glaucan knew it best to not dwell on this for long.

Shifting to the side, Ariadne gestured for him to lead her to wherever he wished.

[Regulus Varo]

Varo wasted little time as he walked briskly, exiting the Oratorium. He didn't bother with a litter, and instead simply gestured with a nod of his head to a half dozen men posted near the entrance. By the cut of their tunics, they were Necian soldiers, but forbidden to wear their armor and full weapons within the city.

"Accompany us to the Consular District. Quickness is a virtue."

Despite seeming slight and aged, Varo was a lean and hard man, and he moved as he spoke, with a swift and direct motion.

[Ariadne Fyrian]

The sight of the soldiers was enough to cause her to slow her pace, and Ariadne paused on the steps outside the Oratorium. What was this new game? It aroused her suspicions fully, and the Glaucan looked at Varo's back for only a moment before once more resuming down the stairs, her pace a cautious one.

The consular district? And why was her presence necessary?

Reaching up to finger her medallion, she remained silent for only a short amount of time.

"I fail to see why I am needed," she growled out.

[Regulus Varo]

"You have intimate knowledge of this conspiracy. Root it out, like a sow to a truffle. We have only moments, if what you say carries any weight more than the incriminating paper it may be written on."

[Ariadne Fyrian]

She ground to a stop, staring at him.

"Is this not something that must be bought before the rest of the Satrapy? Surely this must be sanctioned before action is taken... "

Confusion reigned over anger then, and she stubbornly remained where she stood. Was what the Satrap sought to do allowable? From all of her previous dealings with the Satrapy, limited as they were, it seemed as though a certain amount of procedure was to be adhered to.

[Regulus Varo]

"Why do you think I called for the recess to begin with?"

He looked annoyed, and the crows feet at his eyes lengthened as he squinted.

"Round up your demagogue if you must. I'm sure Csephion Draxus would wish to settle this loose end as badly as I."

[Ariadne Fyrian]

Taken aback at his vehement words, Ariadne felt her body tense, but she made no move to retaliate through physical force.

Instead, she kept her voice civil, though it was easy to detect the venomous undertones laced throughout.

"If that is truly what you wish."

[Regulus Varo]

"I don't, frankly. I find Draxus contemptible, vain, rapacious, and ruthless, and I revile him for perhaps every reason that you respect him. But I'm pragmatic enough to know how you feel, and I need your cooperation immediately."

He shifted the weight on his feet, and tucked a hand into the crook of his robe.

"Whatever you do, do it now. I won't be burdened by indecision."

[Ariadne Fyrian]

Though biting, the truth in his words caused a bud of respect to form, and Fyrian straightened her posture. The gills on her neck opened as if to suck in air, and she tensed her jaw.

"Very well."

Eyes locked with his for only a few short moments longer, she moved to step past him.

"If it must be done, then that is the whole of it. Draxus may remain where he is for now, if only to quiet your own discontent with this whole affair."

[Regulus Varo]

Varo didn't waste any more words, and instead nodded, gesturing for the soldiers to accompany both of them. Unencumbered by the finery of a litter, they moved deftly through the crowds, eventually arriving at the relative proximity of the Consular District.

"Kazza Moheen's villa is just ahead."

He looked to the Necian soldiers, who wore no weapons beyond the small daggers that were universally permissable.

"Move quickly and be discrete. Hold the emissary, but neither he nor his family must be harmed if it can be avoided."

Not slowing stride, Varo approached the gates, walking onto the premises while the slave attendant struggled to keep up.

"Summon your master. Tell him that Regulus Varo is here."

[Ariadne Fyrian]

She was at his side, watching as the slave scrambled to fulfill the Satrap's bidding. Her own stride matched that of Varo's, and she allowed her eyes to roam the expensive front courtyard. It seemed as though Mohaan had brought the exotic finery of Ankaa with him; a sort of foreign oasis in the Necian desert that he'd been assigned. A wistful sigh at the looting that she was sure would take place once the Ankaaran was found to be guilty of a crime that he did not commit.

"You will learn to trust me," she spoke quietly to the Satrap as a sound from inside the house could be heard; no doubt Mohaan questioning his servant.

[Regulus Varo]

"Trust is an anathema to democracy. I have no time for it."

The soldiers were quick, gently but firmly grouping the slaves and family members into a large and ornate atrium. Varo watched as Maheen angrily protested this treatment.

"On what grounds is this for treating a consular emissary? Like any Necian subject? I will lodge a formal complaint of this!"

Varo didn't budge, and his hand worked deeper into the fold of his robe.

"Emissary, forgive my brusque tactics. The security of our state is at issue. I will make our presence here brief."

[Ariadne Fyrian]

She watched as Mohaan spoke; it was impossible to mistake the outraged tone in his voice, and for the briefest of moments, she felt a stab of sympathy for the man and his family. But, it was a short-lived feeling, as her own self-preservation easily won over any other feeling to be had. The evidence had been delivered already, tucked away in the Ankaaran's study amidst the rest of his correspondence from Ankaa. Shuffled in with the endless scrolls as if they'd always been there.

When Mohaan turned his glare to her, she pursed her lips.

"Kariun Fyrian is dead."

He gave an indignant grunt despite the Necian guardsmen around him.

"And what does that mean to me, aside from safer coastlines."

[Regulus Varo]

"That is what we're here to find out."

The soldiers were efficient in their pilfering. They cordoned off the family and servants, a pair of each tackling a couple of rooms at a time.

They didn't have to wait long. One of the soldiers approached Varo and Ariadne, gesturing to talk with them away from the family, for discretion's sake.

The Satrap walked with Fyrian to an adjacent sun room to speak with the soldier, who carried a scroll with him.

"Satrap, we found this item of interest."

Varo quickly took the scroll at the sight of a familiar broken seal. He unfurled it, scanned a few lines, and quickly rolled it up, his intense expression fixating on the former pirate.

"Then it's true."

His jawline tightened.

[Ariadne Fyrian]

She remained graciously silent, staring back at Varo with an even expression. It would be improper to hurl his previous disbelief back into his face at this point in time. Squaring her shoulders back, the Glaucan looked past the Satrap, her lips in a thin line - a strange sort of mixed scowl that conveyed a small degree of hurt stemming from his earlier disbelief.

"I was told to speak the truth today, and I have."

[Regulus Varo]

"That you have."

Varo tucked the scroll into his robe, and studied her face.

"You know what this is, don't you? The first spear thrown in a million. If Kairun hated us so much, then his vengeance is well purchased."

[Ariadne Fyrian]

"It is regrettable, but fact all the same."

Unflinching under his scrutiny, Fyrian brought her hands together, lacing her fingers. She looked out through the arching doorway of the atrium, to the waiting group surrounded by soldiers.

"Is Mohaan to be brought back with us then?"

[Regulus Varo]

Rather than speaking what could be said with action, Varo walked past Ariadne, into the room with the Ankaaran ambassador and his family. He pointed directly at him.

"Arrest this man."

The family wailed, and Mohaan bellowed.

"This is outrageous! On what grounds is this insult placed?"

Varo didn't move an inch.

"Espionage, theft, piracy, blasphemy, and crimes against the sovereignity of the Necian League."

[Ariadne Fyrian]

Standing to the side, Fyrian remained stoic despite the cries of Mohaan's family. She shifted her stance, her boots scraping along the stone floor as she moved to clasp her hands at the small of her back.

The guards wasted little time in separating the Ankaaran from his wife and children.

Mohaan looked to her then, his furious eyes going over every inch of her even as the Necian guardsmen bound his hands.

"You..." he offered a small amount of resistance, shrugging the soldiers away in an attempt to approach the two. It did little good, as quick hands and strong arms held him at bay. "Yes, I know your face; you're Kariun's whelp, aren't you. This treachery is yours!"

Fyrian twisted her lips in a noiseless snarl, but refrained from any formal reply.

[Regulus Varo]

Varo said nothing as the soldiers did their work. He looked to Ariadne as she watched him being led away.

"Bring him with us to the Oratorium. Time is of the essence."

Hand on the incriminating parchment, the Satrap followed the soldiers, not bothering to mention the obvious, that Ariadne should follow.

[Ariadne Fyrian]

She was quick on his heels, and in no time at all the Glaucan strode alongside the Satrap. From her peripheral vision, she kept the scroll he held in sight, wary of any possible intentions he might have.

As the followed in the wake of the soldiers and their new prisoner, Fyrian held her hand out, gesturing for the parchment.

"Let me have it."

[Regulus Varo]

"Why?"

Varo looked sidelong at the Pirate.

"I intend on submitting this before the Oratorium, as well as Mohaan himself."

[Ariadne Fyrian]

Fyrian continued to match his pace, and her hand fell to the wayside.

"I know what you intend."

Beyond those words, the Glaucan fell silent. She had expected him to refuse, but truth be told she'd not readily prepared herself for any rebuttal. She was put off, and her silence as they returned to the Oratorium remained until they began up the marbled steps.

Mohaan's protest had died to a sullen muttering, though his curses could still be heard - and every single one of them remained directed at Ariadne.

[Regulus Varo]

"He quite hates you, doesn't he?"

Varo broke the silence as they entered the Oratorium, now amongst the throng of Satraps returning to their places.

"You seem to suffer no ill effect from recrimination. Does that indicate a comfort with the act of betrayal?"

He paused, turning to face her fully.

"Don't mistake my advice for affection. I fully expect you to reject it outright. Do what you please with Draxus, both of our minds are made up on it. But whatever you please, keep your eyes open."

[Ariadne Fyrian]

For whatever reason, she stared serenely at Varo, her eyes searching his face in an attempt to divine the meaning behind his words. He seemed sincere enough, but her suspicions remained firmly in place. Yet, she was not above affording him a courteous nod and understanding voice.

Far from her cold treatment of him in the recent past, Ariadne spoke with a truth that she had realized in the last week - during the relentless ride to Necia, and the few short days immediately following her return.

"I have spent my life in taverns, aboard sea-going vessels, and within a general state of lawlessness. Even with my upbringing, I know enough to realize that there are times for honesty and times for betrayal, each dictated by a person's personal convictions. I'm not unwilling to accept more civilized living; whatever Draxus' ambitions may be, he has given me not only a gentle hand, but a chance to explore a more satisfying way of life.

"I will never forget where I came from, but I would do myself an inservice if I did not make the attempt to expand my horizons and better myself."

[Regulus Varo]

Varo nodded.

"I think you will enjoy Demos then, while your good fortune lasts. Ambition is a cheap and powerful intoxicant here."

He glanced upward, and already Draxus was seated, watching them enter.

"As for myself, I will scrounge for the bottom of the barrel of virtues, for I fear its stock will be fast depleted. Perhaps we will both arrive equally drunk and lacking in sense."

[Ariadne Fyrian]

She gave the Satrap a slight bow, and turning, started in Draxus' direction. She paused however, half-turning to look over her shoulder at Varo, a crooked smile on her lips.

"It's ok to admit it you know - you rather enjoyed the tone I took with you the other day."

Her eyes glinting with mirth, the Glaucan turned away from him without allowing him the chance to reply, and began up the narrow stairway that would take her to Draxus' seat.

[Csephion Draxus]

Draxus watched Ariadne and Varo enter, with a prisoner in shackles held in tow. He gave her a thin smile as she approached, knowing full well that their strategy was bearing fruit.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd almost say you charmed that old goat."

[Ariadne Fyrian]

With a flippant wave of her hand to dismiss his observation, Ariadne grinned lightly as she took her seat beside the Phressian Satrap. Relieved that she was no longer the focus of attention, she was content to watch from afar.

"Hush your words," she murmured while thumbing the red cloak she wore over her leathers.

"I have done no such thing."

[Csephion Draxus]

He arched an eyebrow as everything settled once more.

"Perhaps not. I think Varo to be immune to such things."

Still, he had fallen for her deception, hadn't he? Added to that Mohaan seemed particularly livid, and his emotion helped to seal the authenticity of the act.

"How did he react?"

[Ariadne Fyrian]

"The man is skeptical by nature, but the evidence is plain to see for even one such as him."

A gentle pat to the Satrap's hand.

"There's no real way to discern his reaction until this day is over."

Looking out toward the center of the Oratorium's main chamber, Fyrian watched as Mohaan stood brooding upon the dais, flanked by two guards.

[Csephion Draxus]

The Satraps were called to order, and below them, Varo led the charge. He unveiled the incriminating letter, linking Mohaan to Kairun. The Ankaaran, livid as he was, could not muster a defense to the circumstances other than to profess his ignorance to it. Founded in truth as it was, the case stacked around the Emissary was quickly looking to be self evident.

Draxus watched with stoic curiosity.

"Masterful. Even Regulus Varo cannot help but to stand behind the weight of the accusation. It is beyond reproach."

[Ariadne Fyrian]

She as well gazed at the scene unfolding before them.

"It would seem that despite your grievances with the man, he has a healthy amount of national pride and passion burning within."

Mohaan remained steadfast in his declarations of innocence, even as the congregation continued to weigh him down with accusations. An hour passed, and Fyrian watched it all with a sort of contentment born of the satisfaction she hoped Draxus took from this spectacle.

Finally, she leaned over to whisper in his ear.

"Is this what you hoped for, noble Satrap... ?"

[Csephion Draxus]

"As well as I could expect, and possibly exceeding expectation."

Mohaan had been quickly condemned and was led away. Whether he would simply be ejected to return to Ankaa or executed outright was a matter further discussion would illuminate.

One thing was certain however.

"We should make plans for restful sleep tonight. Tomorrow we will be at war, and it will be a busy day."

[Ariadne Fyrian]

War. A strange concept to her, but one that she was willing to embrace for the sake of the man beside her.

She rose with the rest of those assembled as the day's meeting concluded, and without ceremony she followed Draxus dutifully. As they passed by the great stone columns, the Glaucan shielded her eyes against the sun.

Stopping at the top of the wide stairway leading down to the stone street below, she stood amidst a sea of departing Necians, watching as each one descended.

She felt... new. Breathing in deeply, Ariadne stood tall, her eyes closed as she brought in the scents around her.

Angling her head slightly to the side, she regarded Draxus.

"Show me what it is like to be a Necian citizen."

[Csephion Draxus]

"There was a story once."

Draxus watched the throng pass below them.

"Perhaps it is true, perhaps it is fiction. Back when Demos was herself a fledgling city state, a man toiled in the field to produce his season's crops. Invaders from the north marched on Demos, threatening to throw the city to ruin. He was drawn by lot to the ancient office of Dictator, and given extraordinary power to face the emergency. Plowshares were beaten into swords. Men were drawn into ranks. Once this enormous army was drawn to repel the invaders, this Demosian abdicated his office, and took up his own sword to fight the enemy.

They won the day. With the enemy in flight, the Demosian returned his sword to the smith, beat it into a plowshare, and returned to his field."

Draxus looked at Ariadne.

"There's more moral to the story than historical account. Citizens are many things separate, but when the demands of the State are high, they rise to that occasion."

[Ariadne Fyrian]

She thought on that, her hands clasping before her.

They stood together, at the entrance of the Oratorium, until the last of those within had long since been vacated. She watched the goings on below, the politicians and common born mingling together.

His story caused her to wonder though. This supposed citizen that had been chosen to lead...

Fyrian lowered her gaze slightly, moving to stand close to the Satrap. She lifted an arm, reaching over to turn his head so that she could stare into his eyes.

When she spoke, her voice was low so that only he could hear. Despite the two being the only ones left, she felt it proper.

"Dictator?"

Her tone implied more than a simple question, as if she knew that he aspired to be more than the Satrap of Phressia.

[Csephion Draxus]

"Under certain times of emergency, it is an office created by the Satrapy, giving broad authority to a single person, which is used to quickly and effectively command the state."

Draxus arched an eyebrow.

"It is usually done in times of war."

[Ariadne Fyrian]

"I know what it means."

Her hand remained on his cheek, her eyes locked with his.

"Your war is a certainty, Cano Draxus of the Csephii. Are you assured in the knowledge that you will be chosen for this task should your peers decide on such a thing?"

[Csephion Draxus]

He thought about her question, and it was indeed a valid concern. He glanced back at the Oratorium as a few more Satraps continued to vacate the premises.

"Reasonably assured. I hold the high ground over Varo. Further, I was once Imperator. Who else would be chosen in such a crisis?"

[Ariadne Fyrian]

A nod. She suspected as much herself, but in some way desired to hear him address the matter himself.

"And like the man in your story; when this is over, will you step down from your appointed task?"

This was the one thing she was unsure of. She had her own notions of him and his ambitions, and truly wondered if he would relinquish his hold on the state once he'd taken it up in his hands.

[Csephion Draxus]

"Naturally."

He nodded deeply.

"Citizens of Necia shall not suffer a Tyrant. We have endured for this long on exactly that principle."

[Ariadne Fyrian]

A smile touched her lips, and she brought her hand from his face, letting it fall to her side while shifting her stance to look up the length of the Oratorium. It was not nearly so daunting as she'd initially thought it to be when first laying eyes upon it.

Fyrian gave an amused hunh at this revelation before turning to start down the steps.

"We have our own stories among the Fold. There is one, of an ancestor of mine - Alyt Fyrian. He spent his entire life trying to shirk the curse Denetion placed on us. The Fold turned away from normal piracy and was blessed during his time, but the curse was never removed. After his death his son returned to the old way of life, thinking that his father had wasted his time chasing an unrealistic fantasy."

She remembered hearing the story so many times, and with each telling she'd wished secretly that Alyt had succeeded in lifting the curse.

"I know that what I've done for you is partially out of my own selfish desires, but I think that there is also another part of me that hopes to finish what Alyt began.

"My family has shouldered this burden for long enough."

Her boots hit the road proper, and Fyrian kept her eyes to the forefront.

"Even Denetion must forgive those who do wrong at some point."

[Csephion Draxus]

"The gods empower mortals to do great things. Perhaps you and I are such fortunate instruments of their intentions."

He gestured to the horizon.

"Perhaps even ambition is divine."

[Ariadne Fyrian]

"When you asked me to return to Necia with you, I must admit that my first instinct was to refuse. I was fully prepared to carry out Kariun's wishes and take the Lantern to Nusakar, but the needs of my men and the desire to wound your soul were too tempting.

"For that I apologise."

[Csephion Draxus]

"Perhaps even that too was inspiration due to Denetion."

He looked at her, and smiled.

"I would hope that not all of it was his machination though."

[Ariadne Fyrian]

A sideways look was sent his way.

"Denetion offers us only whispers; he does not tell us how to go about carrying out his wishes. He seems only interested in the end result. His hand in our pairing was never present."

Fyrian gave him a frown then, remembering his words in the arena during the animal fights.

"From the moment I left you until now, I have felt like the tigraphant you compared me to - to be set upon by a pack of quill cats and torn asunder."

[Csephion Draxus]

"Wasn't it?"

He looked at her.

"You said it yourself that you're given renewed hope that the Fold's curse will soon be at an end with our unification. If Denetion's hand is at work in this, then too our union meets with divine sanction."

[Ariadne Fyrian]

Fyrian smiled kindly, and she slowed to a stop, pulling Draxus with her and halting their stroll.

"I said that he had no hand in it - not that he does not approve. What I feel for you comes from my own heart; it is not Denetion's will that I be with you, but mine. It is sanctioned by him, but beyond that we are the only ones responsible for who we care for."

[Csephion Draxus]

"And if Denetion disapproved of our union, what then?"

He looked at her.

"Would you risk his wrath, and the Fold's good fortune, for our union?"

[Erifa Nimshi]

Erifa had been waiting at a respectable distance from the Oratorium, patient for the proceedings within to conclude. She could've attended herself, but the little Glaucan found herself strangely nervous at the thought of sharing such official company with Necians. It was a feeling that she knew would pass, but for the time being she would wait until comfort permitted her the bravery.

It was so unlike being aboard a Necian galley; so unlike being around Mako. With the Imperator, the girl had felt at ease in her casual nettling. It made her wonder however, at the ease with which she'd settled in with the man. But Draxus and the rest of his Satrap companions were a different lot.

She surmised, finally, that it was due to Draxus' order for her to be pinned to an ice floe with a javelin. It showed that he was not above sacrificing a youngling to attain what he desired. And that made her nervous.

BUT.

He had also given her protection from Weeta's outburst.

In her mind, the man was comprised of so many grey areas that it reminded her of her own cryptic nature at times. A worrying thought indeed.

Her patient waiting had born fruit however, and Erifa moved fluidly to stand between the two (closer to Fyrian than the Satrap). She'd heard his question, and felt it time to announce her arrival with an answer.

"If Denetion did not approve, Ariadne would have given her crew to Glasswater."

They were the first words she'd spoken directly to him.

"My father warned you after your offering; to beware ill omens from black birds feasting on carrion... "

As if to punctuate the girl's words, the raven - Matraca - descended from his previous perch atop the domed Oratorium to land on Ariadne's shoulder. His beak nuzzled into the back of her neck before going to the leather thong holding her hair up in an attempt to undo it. It was easy to see that this raven was the inspiration for the skin-patterns tracing across Fyrian's back.

Erifa turned her eyes from the bird back up to Draxus.

"... but what he did not tell you was that when all is said and done, the only ill omens to be watchful of are the ones that you have surpassed this day.

"A raven does not give his or her affections lightly. The black bird you were warned of is not the bearer of ill tidings that it is so commonly associated with."

She paused in thought, then went on.

"My father is glad for you both."

[Csephion Draxus]

Draxus nodded respectfully at Erifa's tidings, and looked to Ariadne.

"I'll take more comfort in that than the blood offerings of a thousand deep priests."

He took another look around, and settled back on them with a satisfied expression.

"Shall we retire to the villa then? I would like to savor my last day of peace in what may be some time."

[Erifa Nimshi]

A half-wary look up tot he Satrap, and Erifa pursed her lips cautiously. A few silent moments passed before she ventured her next words, her voice holding a careful tone.

"No javelins?"

[Csephion Draxus]

The Satrap's mouth curled upward into a slight grin.

"Perhaps too draconian for meddlesome imps. Next time I think a whipstick to the backside would be in order."

[Ariadne Fyrian]

Erifa drew to an abrupt halt despite both Draxus and Ariadne continuing onward. The elder Glaucan hazarded a glance back, stifling a chuckle at the look of raw indignation on the girl's features. Matraca, sensing his mistress' amusement, gave a caw to the little Glaucan though was mindful to remain settled on his favorite perch - Fyrian's shoulder - and continue his efforts to loose her hair.

Turning back, Ariadne reached up to pull the now-untied leather strap from the raven's beak. He was successful in his task it seemed, and her fiery mane fell to cascade over her shoulders.

A wry smile was given to no one in particular as she gave a playful poke to the bird. Erifa had never mentioned anything of what'd exactly happened when her crew had been taken.

"Javelins?"

[Csephion Draxus]

Draxus arched an eyebrow at the oversight. Of course, she didn't know.

Thin lipped, he explained.

"Our initial encounter with the rest of your band, Erifa included, was less friendly than we are currently used to.."

[Ariadne Fyrian]

"I see."

Far from surprised, Fyrian only gave the Satrap a knowing nod as they passed through the streets of Demos.

Erifa was quick to catch up to the two, but said nothing further. Fyrian guessed that despite the girl's supposed lineage and her normal flippant behavior, she in some way believed the indirect threat of being lashed like a disobediant child. Of course, it remained to be seen how much longer restraint would hold back the little Glaucan's tongue.

"Enjoy your sway over her while you can. It will soon come to an end whether you wish it to or not."

Matraca, ever curious, gave a quick hop-step before fluttering across the short space between his mistress and the Satrap, landing on his shoulder lightly. Reaching over, the elder Glaucan ruflled the feathers along the bird's underbelly as he deemed it necessary to inspect this Necian whom Fyrian had interest in.

"Your Imperator threatened to adopt her if it meant she'd slit her own wrists."

[Csephion Draxus]

Draxus chafed at Mako's supposed coarse words.

"I suspect soldiers need some time removed from the battlefield for their good natures to return to them."

Unlike Varo, Draxus did not decline his litter, and the bearers stood at attention, ready to hoist the conveyance up when he and his companions boarded it.