Slavian ran out of the room, grabbing Nel'Andra on the way, and disappeared. Adam jumped to his feet but made no motion to follow, nor did a sound leave his lips. His brows scrunched together and hesitation stilled him. Izthark gave chase, but Jyesthra grabbed his wrist and stopped him in his tracks.

Picking up a phrase from their father figure, she yelled, "Enough!" She turned burning eyes on the man on the other side of the table. Adam's glossy look disappeared. He turned his gaze and opened his mouth to address her, but she snapped, drowning out the Emperor's rebuke, "You cannot treat him this way! He is your son!"

Adam said nothing at first, allowing the room to settle into an awkward silence as he latched onto the woman's gaze, and measured her. She had her outbursts, but the strength and anger with which she stood at her full height was neither hysterical nor spontaneous despite the sudden intensity of it. She was almost twice his height, he noted.

She did not blink nor cower. He accepted the challenge. The Aeterna said, "As prince to an empire, he will have to learn; and he is old enough to bypass maieutic methods. As my son he will obey me."

"You cannot treat him as you have for the rest of us! He isn't a crippled criminal given a second chance! He isn't a condemned child inheriting a parent's sins! He isn't a war orphan uplifted from a grave! The rest of us, we owe you our lives, but he isn't your adopted, he is your son! He didn't ask to be born to you, nor had the chance to turn you down!" With one final outburst, she yelled, "He doesn't owe you anything!!"

She gasped for breath, her words spent. With her words in the air and her energy used, she remembered herself and bowed her head and brought her hands together. Izthark stared at them both with wide eyes, stock still with his arm still in the air, afraid to make the slightest move. The source of both of their fear was the wide eye'd ferocity their father penetrated her with, for a moment the oldest Adam flared his nose, but he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. The Emperor settled the monster down and turned his attention to the other.

Today was a trying day, he recognized. It had been many years since First Adam had woken like today.

"Izthark." He said.

"Master!" Izthark snapped to attention.

"What do you make of her stance?" Adam asked. "Is there truth to it?"

"Well," Izthark hesitated, but collected himself and went for it. "Yes. Your son is the prince of Dyson and the Empire, and he is your blood, which by right makes him heir to you in a way we have no right to. Slavian is, simply, above us. So I think he should be respected and honored above us."

"Special treatment, even from me?"

"Especially by you." Izthark replied. "Because if you don't, no one else will."

For a long moment the Emperor stared at them, thinking. "Two against one, huh?" He muttered. "Hmph. Very well. Your reasoning is sound. I have never had a child of my own, though I have observed that father-son relations is typically less bitter. So I will accept and test this for a generation to see how he responds to it. Well done, both of you."

His words surprised them. Adam walked around the table and approached Jyesthra. She whispered, "So I'm not-"

"Punished?" Adam guessed. "No. That would defeat the purpose."

"Purpose, master?" She asked.

"As to why you are here."

They stared at him, confused. He continued, "Have you never considered why I took the two most difficult of my Numerenai to be my closest?" They shook their heads. He chuckled, "For the same reason I allow the most persistent Kes-Blood I have ever met to wrestle against me freely: You all test me. When I am right, then I have truth, but when I am wrong, then I can come closer to it."

"Besides." Adam concluded, putting an approving hand on Jyesthra's shoulder. "If anyone has the right to yell at me on Slavian's behalf, it would be the one who nursed him."

Scene:

Caius looked down on his workers toiling away with impatience. Crates of weapons and goods bursting full were laid out and inspected before taken away to storage. To his left was his new ally, Fereren'Kyltu'Kes, and then to his right was an old ally, colleague, friend, prey Barjol'Klee'Ne.

"I'm curious," Caius started. "Is it Klee'Ne and Kyltu'Kes or Klee'Aeterna and Kyltu'Aeterna? With the Empire having conquered all, are we to be named by the nation or the region? How does it work now?"

"I don't know." Barjol shrugged.

"I don't care." Fereren said.

"Does it matter?" Barjol wondered.

"Don't waste my time with this nonsensical rambling!" Fereren pressed.

Barjol raised an eyebrow at Fereren's tone, but just as quickly hid his thoughts. Caius rolled his eyes at the both of them, "Very well. Leave it to wiser men with nothing to do to consider the transition of the times. What can you tell me about the merchandise, my friend? "

"Only the finest." Barjol started. "Here we have longswords, maces, halberds, crossbows, bows, quivers, arrowheads, axes both short and longhand, polearms, daggers, and one of my personal favorites: Caltrops."

"What in the way of defense?" Fereren inquired, stepping into his role and knowledge of the military.

"For your common soldiers there are bucklers to match. Scaling up from there is the targe shields South Ire is famous for. Then, coming from your homeland, I am sure you are familiar with the other two." He pointed towards a far wall where shields were being lined up for the purchase. Namely in question the heater shield, a medium-sized shield meant to balance size, durability, and weight for horseback and the massive pavise shield for archery lines.

"Our pavise but not our longbow?" Fereren questioned. "The archers would instantly be at a disadvantage as relegating a second man to just a shield would not be worth the diminishing value of the archer's range. "

"There is the mantlet but I would hardly call that a shield as opposed to a wall."

"It will do." Caius inserted himself, facing Fereren. "I'm sure you two would love to sit and hash out the finer things of war, but he is a busy man."

"Indeed." Barjol agreed, nodding. He pulled out a flintlock pistol from his side and put it on a nearby table. Barjol sat down. Caius eyed it, curiously. "You like it? I'll throw one in."

"No thanks, I already have one." Caius smirked, sitting down opposite of him. "A double-barrel."

"They come in double-barrels?" Barjol asked, impressed. "Where? How?"

"I'll tell you if you tell me how you caught that Night-Blood." Caius continued to smirk, enjoying the game. He pulled his dagger out, let it drop into the table pointed down, and swirled it around with his middle finger.

Barjol laughed, "I shall pass on that while I hold the stronger card! Night-Blood are far more valuable then some hand-cannon."

"I know." Caius let his smirk widen until his teeth showed. "I was the one who bought it at that auction the other day, when my brother had you over a barrel."

At the reminder of Valspear's humiliation of him, Barjol quieted. Confusion turned to silent, cold fury, and he glared across at Caius. He said nothing. To give him credit, Caius reflected, the Ne-Blood wasn't having nearly the outburst now he had before. Seemed he had learned a lesson about self-control.

"I can see the resemblance." Barjol whispered, spitefully.

Caius gave him one last smirk before dropping his knife to the side. With their weapons out in the open, they could make a deal. "Let us begin." Caius started. He pulled out a booklet of transactions. "I have purchased from you a total of two-hundred seventy-thousand of assorted goods. This should bring our grand total to three-hundred thousand." Caius flipped to a certain page. "Here we have the going rate for each item at once. This is my asking price."

Barjol also put a booklet of transactions on the table. He opened it and it was largely empty. The page of what was the going rate for each item was there, but the rest of the pages were largely blank. Caius' eyes brielfy widened in surprise, but he quickly composed himself.

"I find these rates to match and are acceptable." Barjol ran his finger down the pages, going over them one by one. He ripped out a page from near the front and scribbled notes on it quickly going over the numbers. "Payment for the ship captains and crew, my own personal tax, tolls from the Pain Artist,-" Caius smiled in agreement. "And we come to 16,527.6 ounces in towers."

"Deal!" Caius said instantly. "Sign it, stamp it, lets put our blood on it."

The sheer speed at which he jumped on it, made Fereren stumble and Barjol pause. Barjol hesitated for a second, but as Caius did not rescind on it or try to haggle, he chuckled to himself and put it to writing. He turned to the front of the booklet and wrote down the transaction.

Barjol put it in writing and said, "Always a pleasure doing business with you, my friend! You know the value of a good business relationship."

Caius watched him. Dark thoughts entered his mind and he balanced them against his speculations and rationales. Fortunately for him, and unfortunately for the target of his thoughts, he wasn't as naive or gullible as his brother.

Caius said, "I would like, a small bonus, though. As a sign of continued business ventures. Something off the books. My other friend here-" Caius nodded his head back towards Fereren who stood by with his arms looped together. "Has a son. That son we have found was enslaved by the Ref Pirates, and sold to Ne by the Pain Artist. Namely I have it on some very good information that his son landed in your care. I would like him back as a token to my friend."

Fereren's eyes exploded wide, and he struggled to be still. On one hand Caius was freely giving him his son back, something he would never have expected or trusted of him. On the other hand, the man who had his son was right here in front of him.

"Of course." Barjol nodded. "I understand. Slavery is such a messy business, a dying one at that, when family is involved. I shall have him brought to you, no charge. What is his name?"

"Aelius'Kyltu'Kes." Fereren said.

Immediately, Barjol's eyes sparkled with recognition. Caius' ire grew. Fereren also caught it, "You know him!"

"Yes," Barjol nodded. He stood and took Fereren's hand. "It will please you to know this man's brother-" He pointed at Caius. "has him. The lad was in poor condition when he was brought before me, but he should be better in the care of a friend. He was a talented man and I could do nothing if not give him the boy he sought."

"Valspear?" Fereren gasped. His eyes welled up with tears. "He- Oh thank, the Ancestors!" He rubbed his eyes against his long sleeve jacket.

"If that is all, we must be on our way then." Caius stood abrubtly. "As you can see, this man wishes to be reunited with his son quickly, and you must be on your way."

"Of course." Barjol nodded. He closed his booklet and put it in his shirt. He put his pistol next to a dagger on his waist and bowed to them slightly with his tattoo'd fingers out. "Till next time. The Aeterna shine on you."

"As well as you." Caius returned.

They departed with the promise of expected payment. Due to the sheer size of the payment it would take time to enact it and to do so securely. The Empire was still in its infant stages after all and many wished to take advantage.

While Fereren was energetic and joyful, moving quickly, pushing strangers to the side, and with a hopeful glint to his eye, Caius was the opposite. He drifted through the crowd by instinct while his mind painted a bloody picture reflected only by the darkness in his eyes.

Scene:

Slavian yawned and leaned back. It had been a long night, but it had not been a poor one. He was accustomed to silence and the peace of it, what with the muted and metal Nel'Andra as his companion, but the Long Night a year ago had seeked to destroy his peace with filling his mind with noise even as his ears filled with the drums of fury from his beating heart. Now, he found himself returning to it in the presence of the musical Kes-Blood. Whether Scar-Face knew it or not, his voice was quiet enough to not be bothersome while loud enough to mute out the night.

The darkness snapped into day and light beamed in through the windows. Slavian squinted against the sudden rays on his face.

"Looks like it is day time." Slavian stated the obvious, seeking some basic measure of conversation. He stretched and felt his ribs crack, releasing pressure on his lungs. Getting no reply, he looked over and found Scar-Face still diligently scribbling down notes with his face inches from the parchment. "Hey! It's day time!"

Scar-Face pulled himself back and looked up, his eyes crossing from long exposure at a short distance under candle-light. He blinked. "So it is. Your father is awake. Dyson will wake soon." He stood and piled up loose papers that fell around him as much as being kept intact. "I must return home. I have someone I must attend to. I have spent too long here as it is!" He pinched the candle wik and, shuffling the papers into his arms, made way for the door.

Slavian swallowed, watching him leave. His father was awake. No doubt he would demand for Slavian to do things or step up towards a position beyond his comprehension. Once Slavian dreamed of being here, then hunted him here, but now he had but one instinct, to flee. He didn't know what of make of it. He only knew it was overwhelming.

He picked up Nel'Andra, much to the metal-man's awkward unprepared protest, and hurried after him. He managed to catch up to Scar-Face easily enough by following the trail of fallen papers and scraps of notes, making sure to pick them up along the way.

Catching sight of the Kes-Blood, Slavian yelled, "You dropped something." The man stopped and allowed Slavian to return the papers to the top of the pile, bending over to make such a thing possible as tall as it was, and thanking the young man. Now having the man's attention, Slavian, unsure how to proceed, went for the simple and straight forward approach, "So, uh, can I come?"

Scar-Face paused, his face a mixture of surprise and pity. "I. I am sorry, prince Slavian. I do not think that would be wise."

"But why?" Slavian protested.

"Because-"

"Because he does not belong here anymore than you belong down there." Another voice interrupted.

Scar-Face winced, and Slavian froze. The older one turned to find the Aeterna Emperor approaching. The Emperor said, "The tower told me you were here, my son." He turned his attention to the Kes-Blood. "But it failed to mention you. What are you still doing here?"

"My lord, I was just leaving." The Kes-Blood said immediately.

"Good, get out. I've had enough of you for one day." Slavian grunted, already annoyed. He turned his eyes to Slavian and was already in the process of giving a brisk command, but just as quickly, Slavian hid behind the other man and Adam caught himself.

For the Kes-Blood's part, his eyes were about to pop out of his skull. He froze solid in cold sweat standing between the two. The three stood at an impass as each were afraid in different ways of proceeding in the way things were already going.

The middle-man cleared his throat and stepped off the knife edge into whatever the abyss may hold for him, "Actually, my lord, I was just thinking. Your son is new here. Wouldn't it be due him to see the majesty of the city you built? It is the custom of every prince or king to tour their kingdom routinely, if not first thing." 

The Emperor's eyes fell from him to his son and back again. "How long?"

"The day would be adequate for his first covert tour. I am sure you desire to reserve a longer one with yourself to show the kingdom their prince and to show him the beauty of his holding."

The Emperor lifted his chin slightly, pleased by the thought. At once the other two remembered how to breath. The Emperor more directly looked at his son, and said, "Slavian."

"Y-Yes!"

"How long would you need to see this city?"

Slavian gulped, taking a moment to think. Being directly asked caught him off guard, but also relieved. Could he buy more time? "I-I didn't really see while climbing, but I could tell its big. I wouldn't be satisfied with less than- thr-three days!"

"Three days." Adam echoed. He shifted his face into a smile and motioned forward, "Then you better hurry, I may not tire easily but people do. Can't keep the sun awake forever!"

No one moved, not at first. Slavian waited for the allowance to be rescinded, and after a long moment tested it by taking a few steps forward, then dashing in the direction of what he presumed to be the exit.

Valspear went to follow, the pile of papers starting to get heavy, but Adam stopped him briefly, putting a hand on his shoulder. The Emperor whispered, "Three days. That's the longest I can hold Jyesthra back. Three days, then I will let her off the leash."

"I understand."

Scene: 

Slavian took his first step out of the closet and looked around. At first it looked like the floor of the tower they had just left, but there were enough differences to inform him they had, in fact, changed location. He yelled excitedly, "Aweful! That room does work!"

"I told you." I remarked, grunting slightly as I left the room. Between the boy and his Soran-Blood pet, it had been a tight squeeze. I adjusted them in my aching arms and lead the way to my home, the prince of the empire followed.

What had I gotten myself into?

"So, uh, Scar-Face-"

"My name is Valspear." I interrupted, albeit politely.

"Valspear." Slavian tried again, "How do you know my father?"

I sighed. Where to even begin with that? "I was the king of a kingdom he conquered."

"You were a king!?" The boy gasped.

"Briefly, but yes. In the conflict, your father killed my own father, the king, and I was the king to follow. There was a power struggle I lost with my brother, and I returned to being a prince while he became king. Your father stepped into the power struggle and defeated all of us, bringing us all into the empire."

I walked past him, and I stopped to turn to see Slavian had stopped. He looked at me shocked. "He killed your father?"

"A tactical decision." I put it off. In hindsight, the wrong thing to say.

"Do you hate him?" Slavian asked.

I kicked myself. Slavian may be a prince by birth, but he wasn't raised as one. How could he know of the cold, cynical, legalistic mindset of a king in a world of kingdoms. Not just that, but from the fear in his eyes and tone, he took it as a reflection towards himself. Did he think that regicide from his father would bring revenge down on himself as well?

He wasn't wrong. Such is the world of revenge, equality, and endless cycles.

I walked up to him and looked at him closely. I would have put a comforting hand on him but I was taken up by an increasingly heavy weight. Did I hate the man? I could say I feared him, I always had, but did I actually hate him, even after what he has done to my people? "No. I do not hate him, nor is anyone going to come after you for it. My relationship to your father is complicated, to say the least, but I respect him."

"But you fight him! The first thing I found was you two fighting, and you look like your preparing for another round."

"I am reasoning with him. And I am reasoning with him because I respect him. You shouldn't fear so long as we keep 'struggling' as we are, because that shows we are still trying. It is when we stop 'fighting' that we have stopped trying. Such is relationships, politics, and the like."

He looked at me, puzzled. "I don't get it."

"As you accumulate people in your life, you will." It seemed to appease him for the moment. His dread disappeared but what was left was confusion. Unfortunately for him, I was not in a position to be here for forever explaining things. "Now, can we get home before my arms break?"

He chuckled and nodded. "Nel'Andra, if you don't mind."

Immediately the Soran-Blood reached over his shoulders, latched its sizable claws onto the pile, and picked up most of it. My arms screamed for joy in the release.

We continued on to my home. "Thanks, Slavian."

"Shouldn't you address me as 'prince Slavian' with some gloriously humble title?"

"Cheeky, no. Not if we are going to be covert. Your father has the right to announce you to the world, and I will not intervene. We are not under guard from disgruntled brutes right now and later your father might just kill me if I overstep that far."

We reached my home and I opened the door, letting him in first, before closing it behind me. I dropped the papers on the table, rubbed my aching shoulders, and stepped in to the bed chamber. 

Aellius was just waking up. "Good morning, my glorious sun-child." I greeted. He smiled a bit, and embraced me in a hug.

"Oh, I get it, he gets a fancy title and I get nothing!" Slavian yelled from the first room.

"Who's that?" Aellius asked.

"I can have you hanged, you know!" Slavian continued.

"No, you can't, my prince." I called back.

Slavian gasped, "You just said we are covert!"

"He's a prince?" Aellius asked, incredulously.

"Nah." I smirked. "Just a kid who acts like one."

"Where's your food? I'm starving!" Slavian called, noisily going through the kitchen area.

Aellius giggled, "You're right. He is a little pampered shit isn't he?" I raised an eyebrow at his language, but said nothing. He seemed to be in better spirits than I had hoped, and now was not the time to tell him off.

"I heard that!" Slavian yelled. "Now, seriously, where is the food? We have a lot of ground to cover and only three days to do it!"

Aellius's eyebrows scrunched in confusion. "Uncle, what is he talking about?"

"I'll explain later." I promised, wearily. "Its been a long day."