Chapter Text
Elder Caenis filled her chalice with wine.
She did not offer any refreshment to the prince standing in her council chamber. She did not offer him a place to sit.
The prince could stand and he could wait until she was ready. Let him reflect on his new position in the world. A world rapidly shrinking in which his former kingdom of glory now lay ruined. So, he and his army had come here—or rather to the city of Okhema beneath Dawncloud—with the offer of an alliance. An alliance not only between their soldiers, but also between him and the rest of the Chrysos Heirs with whom he dared to share golden blood.
The people of Okhema seemed willing to grant sanctuary to them, encouraged by that unbearable leader of the Chrysos Heirs and her pathetic puppy. But this was not a future Caenis was willing to accept. In no world should the Kremnoans be rubbing shoulders with the people of Okhema. Already, she had heard too many council members speaking the praises of his man—this Mydeimos.
She had suspected these praises were born from lust or else thinly veiled as hero-worship, and now that the man stood in front of her, she was altogether certain this was the case. He was an impressive figure. An audacious figure. And he looked small in her high-ceiling chamber.
“Your manner of attire is indecent in this city.”
The prince had been glancing about the empty room, as if searching for the strangely absent guards, but now he turned a surprised look her way. Clearly, he had not expected this statement as her first formal address since summoning him inside. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, the only other sign of any discomfort from those words. His voice was rough and deep, but also, strangely meek. “I dress no different than many men in this city.”
Caenis barked a laugh. “Many men in this city cannot hope to achieve a body like yours even with rigorous training. Much less do they adorn it with gold ornaments and garish red war-paint—or is that tattooing? One half of your frame is armored as if you intend to go to war against us, the other is bared as if you wish to shame us all.”
“That—” Mydeimos paused, perhaps struggling to keep his words level. It annoyed her to no end when he succeeded. “That is not my intent. It is a part of our culture. I only seek to inspire my men.”
“Very inspiring, I am sure,” she replied with a light sneer. “Well, Mydeimos, prince of Kremnos—it is prince, is it not? I understand you have not taken the crown. We all know you have not taken the throne. Since you are here, as opposed to your own city.”
“I am their uncrowned prince, yes.” His answer was steady.
Hm. He did not seem altogether easy to rile. Surprising. Most Kremnoans were ready to fight the moment they so much as sniffed an insult against their honor.
She rose and approached him, circling him with measured, slow strides. He remained in place, only watching her from the corner of his eyes. When she stood in front of him again, she shook her head as if coming to some kind of decision.
“Elder Caenis,” Mydeimos said, having finally lost patience with her behavior, “may I know why you summoned me to Dawncloud? Is there a matter you wish to discuss?”
Looking him straight in the face, Caenis reached up to the shoulder of her robe and tore it at the seam. The prince took a step back, alarmed, eyes immediately casting away and hands curling into fists.
“Mydeimos,” she said calmly, as if she wasn’t systematically shredding the front of her chiton. “You and your Kremnoan soldiers are a threat to the safety of the citizens of Okhema. Once news of this attack against me is made known, there will be no welcome for you within these walls.”
Mydeimos swallowed, the first sign of anger gripping his features. But with that anger, a certain pain and desperation. Rather than the retort or roar she’d expected, he said in a strained tone, “The black tide is consuming more and more of the lands outside these walls. Soon, there will be nowhere for my people to go. Please, Elder Caenis, do not do this. Please, there must be something I can offer.”
At that, she paused. The last thing she’d expected was to hear this mighty, proud warrior and enemy of Okhema beg. If only there had been some way to record it. Truly, the offer was tempting to consider…