Aspirations

[Taelian Edevane]

24th of Ash, Year 120

After Konrad left the morning before, the Sil'norai did not do much. When he returned, the two engaged in some banal conversation, sweeping aside all of the oddities of their first engagement: the haste with which Taelian attempted to shift a business arrangement to a personal one, the obvious flirtations, the curiosity both of the two had for one another and their very strange and foreign lives. Konrad attended him dutifully, and when he left again, Taelian went once more to speak to Eloise and be informed more of his tasks.

He had been given a complete list: defend researchers who embark upon hazardous locations, guard scouts as they look for leads to send to the aether cannon, use Transposition to communicate targets back to the operators of said cannon... and of course, fight with and execute Kindred once they've been struck, to ensure they do not escape and survive. Lastly, he was meant to defend the Galbrecht's, though all of them were. Eloise was doing so more directly: she had been given an almost royal treatment in the Essen Diadrus, with large chambers on the upper floor, a network of artifacts surrounding her. She was as connected to Melitene as she was from a town over, only they were thousands of miles away.

Much of that was thanks to Taelian: he had forged for her one of his permanently-alive portals, while wielding one himself at the corner of his own room. Behind one of the ornate dividers, he could see -- and no one else could -- the ghastly, sighing rift that connected this place to Ard Sgiath. Early in the morning he tended to it, his eyes opened to the Dead Realm. Even with only a few Shades, he could hear their chorus of whispers and moans. Within the loud overture were softer sounds, words actually capable of being understood: where am I, how did I die, why have I been abandoned by Von Rabe?

They were all dead clergy of the Omen. Taelian did nothing but draw on ghosts that already stalked the Dead Realm, offering them a home and peers in their final hours of being. The purge of the Omen's priesthood in Brandt had been swift and bloody, and had left an abundance of these things throughout all corners of Essen and beyond. It was not hard to find them: in fact, he held the essence of another Shade in his grip very presently, and as he stared into the ethereal construct, he bound that final being.

"Fuirich gu math, mo charaidean," he said softly. Rest well, my friends.

After that, the sounds faded to silence and the ethereal visage disappeared, the Lychgate no longer in view as the image of the Dead Realm peeled back, the fire upon his palm fading.

He pondered for a moment, reflecting on the events of the prior day. And on the events that were sure to -- and soon to -- unfold. The Elven man bit at the edges of his lower lip. He had to admit some level of anxiety; the Kindred were terrifying beings, and he was meant to dispatch them as if he were an expert in doing so. They fought in a war where they were stretched thin: he wouldn't even have someone to reinforce him, only scholars or the lesser mages of the Pact. The greater ones defended the Aether Cannon at all times, an excuse to cower in the Lodge, though a valid one.

His valet was meant to arrive soon. Unlike last time, Taelian was properly dressed for the occasion, not over or under, and he found that he smelled a bit better than the last. He had bathed himself that morning, not due to any opposition to Konrad's performance, but... because he wished to think, and to experiment with the fragrances provided to him. This time he was certain he smelled of something vaguely resembling coconut, which was humorous to him, though Lorien's nobility appeared fixated with things they were not meant to have.

Dathúil, he would whisper quietly to his lonesome. The man had been on his mind.

[Konrad Schreiber]

While Taelian's true duties were as straightforward as they were dangerous, Stephan Lange's duties were a bit more convoluted. Konrad had spent a considerable amount of time pouring over the Galbrecht's documents made available to via the Lodge to determine just what exactly their Stephan should be doing in the meantime and, even, while on the inconspicuous job. As it turned out, what with his massive size already, the role of a Knight Argent wasn't entirely out of the question. The main problem, of course, was the matter of the Hollows. Knights spent their entire lives learning how to control the things and while Taelian was on all accounts exceptional in his own right, there was still something to be said for the tradition of it. In fact, even if he somehow did master the command of Hollows within a reasonably short time, that was almost worse as it would paint him not only exceptional but supremely suspicious.

In a darkly patterned suit that was very much like the one he'd worn before but different to the eye of any learned Rien, Konrad smoothed his jacket and rapped twice upon Taelian's chamber door. "Good morning, Lord; I'm coming in." He slipped through, the door barely even opening to allow him do so, and found himself met with a smartly dressed, sweet scented Lorien man. His lips curved into an approving smile as he inclined his head in a polite bow. "Lord Lange," he began, dark eyes warm with amusement, "I find myself believing the role you play more and more by the minute."

He set about tidying the room, drawing the curtains, and smothering the fire. "I hope you slept well? Today marks the true beginning of your service to the Lodge," he continued in Silvain, the lack of haste in his voice more than implying it was nothing urgent. "One Miss Irmgard Engel." The name was said sharply and in plain Common, no attempt to accent it so that it was clear how it was to be pronounced. "I was given little information as to what is expected of you, but it would seem you should already know."

Room in order, Konrad dusted of his gloves with a nearby hand towel before neatly folding and setting it back into its place upon the vanity. "We were meant to meet with her at the promised time some hours from now, but I believed it important we... 'partake in the breadth of this world'." The quote, taken from their previous first meeting, was said with a warm smile, even if he was mildly poking jest. Silvain was already a poetic enough language and though Taelian spoke it as he might speak Common, there were still times the beauty overcame the speaker. He had found himself quite partial to phrase, and it sounded just as whimsical as it had the day before.

"So, you and I shall tread a wandering path through the town until we arrive to dine together with Miss Engel and her attendant, as one who eats alone invites the prying eyes of gossips." Though considering Taelian's clearly mixed bloodline upon close inspection, there was only so much gossip they would be able to avoid anyway. Better some than none, he figured. Stepping forward, he smoothed his hands over Taelian's furred lapel, taming the mess of hairs into a more dignified mane, then beckoned Taelian's head closer so he could do the same to the sides of his hair. "I expect the most curious among them may approach you and present you with the invaluable opportunity to charm- or frighten- them away." Either scenario worked out just fine as far as he was concerned.

"I will bring to your attention any names or faces of great importance around whom you best tread lightly, but I greatly doubt any such individuals would be out in so casual a way given the current state of things." He nodded satisfaction at Taelian's state and released his head, a gentle pat against the man's cheek more a subconscious thing than anything else. "The details about Miss Engel were limited to her name, and it is not one I recognize as anything other than Rien, however..." He settled a step or two away from Taelian, a practiced distance for polite conversation as he stared expectantly at his charge. The warmth of his smile calmly glowed in the dark brown of his eyes, a peculiar juxtaposition to his otherwise professionalism. "Before we depart, is there anything you would ask before hand?"

[Taelian Edevane]

As Konrad tapped on the door, Taelian found himself almost on heightened awareness. It was a nervousness, and an eagerness, to see his valet after some time spent waiting. As the Rien man called forth and entered, Taelian greeted him with his own warm and genuine smile, quickly bringing himself to stand upon his feet. Lord Lange, he was called. Taelian, or--Stephan-- grinned, and bowed his head slightly. "Mr. Schreiber," he spoke back. The man praised him for his initiative, for making the name and identity match closer with his demeanor.

Taelian had begun to believe in the role more himself. Stephan wasn't a false name, it was only his name in Lorien. In whatever records of citizenry they bore of him, it was his identity, equally as valid as Ser Ela'Rannoch of the Remedy. This was what Eloise had told him -- a woman who had herself taken on a different public face, due to the biting tensions between the Rien people and Daravinic. She was also an Elf, though not a full one like him. It would have only taken minutes to file down her ears, though she had chosen not to.

Taelian still saw a Siltori when he stared into his vanity. He even saw his own face, despite 'Stephan's' face being nothing like the one he wielded biologically. Somehow he found himself adapting to it all very quickly, in a way that could be deemed unnatural. He already had some concept of why, deriving from the fact that he was an Animus mage, a shapeshifter already. Though taking on the faces of other sapients was not within their purview, the concept of becoming something else had quickly sown its seed.

And, all of that made itself clear when Taelian requested of the other man: "Even here, even in private, I would like for you to call me Stephan or Lord Lange, as you have done previously. That is who I am now, at least while I am here. I believe you already intended such, but -- it is important for me to say it."

As Konrad went on to ask him of the quality of his sleep, Stephan nodded approvingly. The other went on to explain his daily task, and his first one: to attend some sort of lunch with a woman known as Irmgard Engel. Konrad deviated from his Silvain to properly pronounce it, and the Ebon Knight repeated it back to him. "Irmgard Engel," he said, knowing he had gotten it right. "Hideous name," he commented, with a quiet chuckle punctuating his two words.

The man continued, though not without referencing words the Sil'norai had spoken prior. His grin widened, the mage pleased too by the whimsical nature of the saying. It was the sort of thing his father might have told him, years ago, before his death. In many ways he found himself mirroring him of late. Though not a scoundrel, he was - like him - a charlatan, and a man driven by intimacy.

"Ah, I did not imagine you would come around to my marriage proposal so soon," he teased. Konrad was not alone in perceiving the seriousness of the Lord Lange's requests, that prior morning -- though he clearly had little shame in his behavior. Whatever shame there was had dissipated upon the other man's clear statement of interest, when last they spoke. Stephan was determined, now, to flirt with him as he pleased. "Hm. Kidding. We can stroll through Essen's Noble District instead, as you suggest. A lot less legal work and ceremony necessary for that one."

The 'Argent' stepped toward the other man and allowed him to mess with his hair until it was right. Konrad would surely feel a hint of the warmth radiating from his form as they remained near to one another, and Stephan thought to inquire on how the native Rien took to the cold, considering it was a constant detriment. He did not, however, knowing that he would learn in time. Mostly, the Rien appeared to stick to their well-insulated buildings, padded with thick walls mostly bricked together by Hollows.

He continued to take note of the valet's words, nodding occasionally as if to inform him that he was still listening. By the end of his words, he caught the man's warm smile and smiled softly back, taking the opportunity offered to him, and making a few inquiries that had slipped into his thoughts as Konrad spoke.

"Is the Lady Engel a mage?" he asked. "If this is a service to the Pact -- am I attempting to woo someone to their side, or..." he paused. "Is she perhaps a benefactor of sorts? A party funding their escapades? Is she a Celebrant, an Argent...?"

He had many questions. More where those began. "Does the Lodge have some sort of purpose for me, Mr. Schreiber? Eloise wishes for me to join the Nobility, though I am not certain that she and the Lord Galbrecht speak with the same voice." It was clear that Stephan was uncertain of much of his function. Though given his tasks, they were all martial duties and exploits far from the borders of Essen's city districts. His duties here -- the ones Konrad specialized in -- were far more anomalous to him.

"I suppose you can explain to me as we walk," he said quietly. "Shall we go?"

[Konrad Schreiber]

Duly noted Taelian wished to embrace his alias fully regardless as to whether or not there were ears to hear it, Konrad bobbed his head in approval. It was for the best. He made a point to adjust how he internally referred to Stephan Lange by name in his head as well. The last thing either of them needed was a sprinkling of his own slips of the tongue to the mix. Fortunately, their acquaintanceship was still quite fresh, and such trivial things as names needed very little effort to mold into something more suitable.

The light in his eyes danced merrily at the jest of marriage. He found the whole thing absurd as could be, but flattery was flattery and for all his efforts, it was something of a foreign thing to him. To be lavished such was not wholly unwelcome. "A shame," he replied, smile such in tone the severity of the words was all but lost. "Perhaps were you a tad more confident in your charms we would be wed already." His laughter suggested otherwise as he pushed open the door to allow Stephen to pass through. "The Noble District is an excellent idea, Lord, though I'm afraid you'll find even a stroll has more than enough ceremony to make up for its lack of legal work."

He settled into a place one step behind and to the right of his charge as they made their way down the hallway and towards the heavy doors that led out from the Lodge. Their pace was just shy of brisk, a speed he personally preferred and even more so at Stephen's side. Any slower and they ran the risk of inviting unwanted conversation which wasn't so much dangerous as it was tedious.

"All quality questions, to be sure, Lord," he nodded. They neared the doors and he retrieved a deceptively heavy-looking cloak he'd had brought in specifically for Stephen. While it appeared to be of a thick and weighty fabric it was, in fact, considerably lighter than what most any other Rien wore. As he neatly tossed it over and clasped it around Stephen's broad shoulders, he opted to answer the man's questions in the order they'd been asked.

"From name alone, I would suspect she is not a mage. As far as the truth of the matter is concerned, however? I don't know, Lord. I believe, given the current state of things, it may be safe to assume she is somewhat alike to your own situation." He gathered up his own cloak now, one proper warm against the chill of Lorien's weather, and finally, with a heavy push, opened the doors so that they might pass. He waited for Stephen to step through before following in suit and shutting the doors behind them.

"Forgive my blunt tongue lord, but if the Lodge wished to woo a Rien woman, I sincerely doubt they would send your Lordship to front the task." His smile was softer, not quite pitying but meaningful in its intention Stephen not find himself too offended. "And what a waste it would be, at that," he added with a chuckle. "I can only imagine how terribly disinterested you might find yourself."

They set out down the lane, the chilly air still enough that the bite of the cold only nipped at the bare skin of his face. The streets were lonely in their sparse population, more so than ever given recent events. There were few out who did not absolutely need to be, and even the population of Hollows had dwindled in no small part thanks to the desertion of those knights who were no longer loyal to the Galbrechts.

"She very well may be a benefactress, though one of foreign or sudden wealth, I would imagine," he continued, a more musing quality to his voice now. "It's highly unlikely she's a Celebrant but... I suppose anything is possible when considering what may or may not be. I can say, however- and with confidence- the Lodge most definitely has a purpose for you. What that purpose is...?" His shoulders bounced as he shook his head.

"If the Lady wishes it, there exists a reasonable chance the same thought at least lingers in the Lord Galbrecht's mind. Perhaps more so the Lady Garlbrecht, though. I believe she is a bit more inclined towards... let's say... unprecedented strategems." They were already a good distance from Lodge, which meant Konrad's gaze by necessity was less focused on Stephen and far more upon the surroundings. Though he couldn't spot a Kindred, he could at least be aware of who and whatever mortal else was about. "And yet, I believe you're not without some faculty, Lord. What do you wish your purpose to be here in Lorien?"

[Taelian Edevane]

As they set off, the man accepted the cloak graciously, keeping his eyes equally peeled to their surroundings. Being out from the Diadrus was an interest and a danger -- Essen was now a warfront to any reasonable person, a site of persecution of the clergy, and of deathly intention to the Kindred who could not be seen until they wanted to be. Usually, until they struck. Stephan made note of each of Konrad's answers as they came, all of them helping to better shape some level of understanding of why he was here: why he was meant to attend this outing. It was not because of any real necessity, but simply because the Lodge wanted him to do so. To partake in their social affairs as if any other member, though technically he probably wasn't one.

He was an Argent, though, he acknowledged. Argent were not spared from the glamour of these events, as much as he was certain many of them would wish to be. Ultimately it came down to simple expectation, and nothing more. This was within his list of tasks, it was a part of his role. Within it, though, was opportunity indeed: to charm or frighten, as Konrad noted earlier.

The man, after concluding his answers, asked a question of his own. Stephan decided he would answer it, but -- not without offering a word.

"Were you made aware that I am engaged to a Celebrant?" he asked. "This is not something I was aware of myself until recently. A man who always hides these details; I only gained an inkling from him through the course of our romance, and was informed of his caste by Regis only days ago. His name is Riven. He would be made my husband not out of interest in wealth, but from love: yet the result would be the same. I would join the highest of Lorien's Nobility. Isn't that unique?"

He did not smile, or offer any tells or fluctuations in his expression. It was almost as if he were offering this information as a simple fact, unattached to anything else. That was, of course, not true; Stephan held many internal thoughts on their arrangement, and he had been urged by Eloise to finalize it immediately. Despite the... complicated nature of Riven's inheritance, the Lady Galbrecht -- as Konrad had indeed confirmed -- was likely to approve such an elevation, if only to further solidify her powerbase. A loyal, powerful mage of the Lange's caliber was something desirable. Along with, perhaps, the return of his Velsign husband who was more motivated to loathe the Kindred than almost anyone else.

"He is a frustrating man," he added, shaking his head. "He refuses to speak at all about his past here. It enrages him. I believe he grew up near Branderbren, or somewhere close to there -- but had a less than stellar upbringing. I'm sure you're aware of the fact that Velsign are effectively weapons without any choice of their own. They are used by the Kindred as those ravens please. He fled to escape that fate."

The man held a sympathetic expression, finally. He pressed his lips firmly together as his brows lowered against the crease of his eyes, and he lightly sighed through his nostrils. "I suppose -- like him -- I do not wish to be used. I am not a mere weapon, to be wielded by others. Eloise's interests in me have always been her own, and only vaguely do we share a common goal. She wishes for a world tolerant of magi, and so Lorien -- one of the nations most vehemently opposed to us -- serves as a sort of project. The Galbrecht's, I believe their cause is just and that they believe in it, as they have risked destruction by gruesome means for a gamble that will not favor them above any other House. However, I do not share their experience of repression or hatred of these beings. I am an outsider," he said.

"I suppose what I want is to achieve power. Disgusting answer, isn't it? Maybe you'd expect that from me; I'm a mage. But like with my magic, I wish to achieve this power on my own, through my own work and contribution. I wish to be an asset useful enough to defy the common advice of the system. As for how far this power should go...?"

He paused. He had to think on it, for a moment. There were so many possibilities.

"I would be King," he paused again. It was clear that... he was not speaking in jest. "In Atinaw, I am the Queen's progeny; I stand among her most beloved of subjects, and perhaps by extent I hold some hope of taking her mantle, if she were to abdicate or die. But in Atinaw, the power of a monarch is not absolute, and they are far removed from the politics of Mornoth and the ideals I bear. Lorien, if only it were unified, has the potential to be one of the strongest nations in our world. It is a twisted bay away from my own home, Sil-Elaine, and it wields an army capable of rolling through North Daravin and changing the landscape of this continent. This is all with Von Rabe's veil of frost still holding it back; this Kingdom has unlimited potential with the proper hands directing it, and I wield over three hundred years left in my life. Magic is perhaps not the only way to reshape reality to one's will: the greatest form exists in that of institutional power, the power of a Kingmaker, and a King."

He frowned. "You speak to a man unbound by restraint, Mr. Schreiber. I am desperate to change this world. More than to Riven -- and even to you, my flower," he teased with a grin, "...I am married to an ideal. Of objective leadership, of power creating prosperity, of the death of old, repressive ways. And of the very real cleansing of the most harmful elements of Mornoth: the Kindred, the Court of Dusk, the Daravinic Entente. So, from there comes my reasoning. Perhaps just intricate justifications for what is really a lust for glory. I myself don't know. But I have pondered on this for a long time, and this is where I have come."

[Konrad Schreiber]

Stephan's news of the marriage was met with an amused curve of Konrad's lips, though he kept his gaze focused on their surroundings as they turned a corner to head down a lane of extravagant architecture and, in spite of the cold, impressive gardens of stone and those plants which grew in defiance of the climate. "I suppose 'unique' fits better than most, Lord." He'd not been given Riven's name nor the exact position the arrangement would bestow, but in his own briefing, he'd been told of Taelian's- Stephen's plans for engagement. The short of it sounded very much like one of those romantic novellas self-published and hungrily devoured by those without property or propriety. Konrad himself lacked just enough of the latter to be quite familiar with that particular brand of blush-inducing prose.

What followed, however, sparked more than just Konrad's inquisitive interests. His brows rose in genuine surprise at the mention of the Velsign, and his stare soon found itself fixed upon Stephan's pensive features. Though he doubted the purity of truth in the common superstition held among the people of Lorien that the Velsign were not just slaves to the Kindred but their lovers as well, hearts as twisted to their manipulations as the creatures themselves, he assumed there was at least some truth to it. There always was, even if it was nothing more than a sliver. Thus his concern shown through, not fear for Stephan exactly, but a general uneasiness at the entire situation. "A fate he may still find himself bound to should he return, I fear," was all Konrad offered in murmur on that particular matter.

As Stephen continued, Konrad guided them down several more streets, nodding where appropriate but, for the most part, remaining silent. To a certain extent, he could sympathize with Stephen's antipathy towards being used. Both his own father and mother had held expectations for him he simply couldn't meet, and though they'd never stopped caring for him, his own lack of specific usefulness had cost him a fair amount of their attention throughout his life. Unlike Stephen, however, he was no weapon nor beast bred and honed for blood and furthering of goals not his own. It was too foreign to truly empathize with but not for lack of trying.

It shouldn't have been surprising that "power" was, more so at his core, what Stephen sought. Most men did. Konrad only slightly frowned his own dissent when Stephen assumed such a thing disgusting. As far as he knew, there was only shame in seeking power placed by the hands of those who already possessed it. After all, the fewer powerful men and women there were, the more valuable the state of being powerful was. So, then, what more human a thing could a man or woman do than to pursue such things regardless of those shackled connotations hung their necks?

"King", though... that was entirely unexpected. The sheer grandeur of the world sounded almost ludicrous and would have pulled an incredulous smile from Konrad had not Stephen sounded both so serious and so sure. There was something there in his voice, in the way the man so sheerly was, that curbed humor and instilled a strange sense of possibility instead. He found himself staring up at Stephen for the second time, his dark eyes swimming with that concentrated sort of consideration reserved for those serious sorts of daydreams: Stephen as a king. It wasn't so difficult a picture to imagine as it might should have been for anyone else Konrad knew.

He spoke of things that sounded born from steady rumination. Some of which suggested his borrowed title of Lord was, perhaps, even below his true station. Konrad couldn't tell if Stephen was aware of the gravity of such things he spoke of or not, but the weight of it was more than enough to furrow his own brow in serious consideration of what was being said: specifically blasphemy and treason, though in more a superficial sense given Stephen was no true retainer. It was quite a bit to chew on, but not a single thing Stephen said carried with it any animosity. They were the steady words of a creature whose life could not really be wholly understood by one so shortlived as he. Disconcerting to an extent... there was still something thrilling about the implausible prospect of it all.

Some levity returned, and Konrad was grateful for the moment to breathe, his own quirked smile dubious. "I think it imperative to remind you, Lord, you are, currently, still technically a bachelor." He sighed out through his chuckle, nodding slowly as he mulled over everything Stephen had told him.

"While I can't say I necessarily agree with- or officially support- your bid for Lorien's crown, I can't help but consider such... lofty aspirations as anything but admirable." They passed under an impressive archway that led down a more winding, secluded pathway surrounded on both sides by the seemingly endless tide of expensive estates. "Even forests sprout from simple seeds, Lord. Both intricate justifications and base desires need not be mutually exclusive. In fact, I would argue, to pursue one without the other would be more to your detriment than benefit."

He paused to stare pointedly at his charge, a difficult task given their disparaging heights but successful regardless. "You are, as you say, unbound by restraint indeed. A dreamer," he amended. "More than a lord or a king or even a god... would that you could hear yourself through ears such as mine. I'm afraid there's very little I can do to further your ambitions, but I find myself quite curious as to their outcome. A unifier and abolisher of rot and decay or the world's next grand disaster?" He spoke slowly and thoughtfully, musing more than accusing. "I suppose I may not even live to see the day should it come, though if I were to offer advice- which I'm not, as that would be conspiracy- I would urge you to see your union with the Lord Riven brought to bear and, once discovered, strive to make your purpose within the Lodge so integral they might crumble without it."

Konrad nodded once then finally let his gaze return to their path as they meandered out of the lane and onto a wider, grander street speckled with passersby now. "If I were to offer advice, of course." Pressing promptly on, his tone brightened and lips curved into a playful smile. "Now, shall I refer to you as 'Lord' or... is 'Highness' more appropriate for the progeny of a foreign queen?"

[Taelian Edevane]

He was surprised by Konrad's response. Rather than being repulsed by Stephan's blind, even dangerous ambition, he appeared to welcome his audacity. The Savant was a compelling man indeed, though the Argent had to be aware of the possibility of a ruse. He had chosen to ask Stephan of his ambitions, and received an answer capable of compromising the Elf's position in court, and even his life. It would appear to any onlooker that the mage gave his trust away freely -- though that wasn't the case. He simply did not expect the other man to betray him.

Stephan was his charge, and perhaps even where he laid some semblance of loyalty towards. It was early to bring forth that assumption, but Konrad had given him no reason to believe otherwise. The two had become increasingly transparent to one another, and the gentleman Schreiber only made a more useful ally by the moment. It appeared - now that he knew of Stephan's less-surface goals - that the trend might carry on indefinitely. He already deigned to give him proper advice.

"I do intend to have our marriage legalized, yes," he said in reply. "Even without Riven's presence - or consent. If he has no interest in returning here, then he will not be bothered by Lorien's legal ongoings. The elevation of my caste would be a strict improvement. As such, my darling fiancé should be happy to assist me in that regard." The mage nodded, not seeing anything particularly wrong - ethically or factually - within his logic. It was a very Rien way of thinking, in fact: pragmatic, with the legality of their marriage nothing more than a beneficial arrangement.

"I appreciate your candor, dathúil. Fortunately for me, House Galbrecht is actively entangled in a war with His Majesty, Lucien Revenlow, to overthrow him as we speak. This has been the case for decades, now, and opining upon who should occupy Nivenhain's most ornate chair appears to be a somewhat common - if exclusive - practice, here. In time I might boldly suggest myself to the Lord and Lady Galbrecht as a candidate: a young and powerful mage, a personal and loyal ally of theirs, to occupy the throne and fulfill their ambitions. Or I might seek Lordship elsewhere, and sponsor my own fortunes. House Baringer wanes, House Florent will surely cease to be if the Kindred fall; I have done enough surface-level study to know of the opportunity this land offers."

He grinned as he thought upon the man's words, once again. The next grand disaster. He supposed the last true monarch of his kind -- Riala Elaine -- had been a disaster indeed. It was her need to mete out her own ideals that had caused her to be struck by Malek and destroyed, the immediate cause for the annihilation of his race. Such tragedies were always in reach, within a ruler's hands. He did not intend to meet that sort of fate, but could not deny the potential for its grip.

Stephan knew that -- more likely than anything else -- he would fail to achieve his ambitions, and would simply go elsewhere. He was a Master Transposer; he could escape in an instant at least, which meant his aims were at least unlikely to go... lethally sour.

Konrad concluded with a query, one that made the man laugh and blush. "No, no," he waved at the smaller man with his hands. "It is a linguistic separation of ours, I am afraid. I more meant that Luteria is my mentor; she has spoken of my potential rulership in the past, and as an older Sil'norai halfling, I do look to her almost as a mother. But, my own màthair is long dead. Infection and disease, if you'll recall. A tasteful measure of both."

He hummed for a moment, and paused, looking towards a public garden to their periphery. Stephan began to lead them there, considering they still had hours to partake, and all. He nudged the other man playfully, with total spontaneity, as one would a friend. In truth, he found it terribly isolating to hold none here, and Konrad was as good a candidate as any could be.

"Do you have no greater ambitions?" he asked, bluntly. If Konrad expected a sort of proposition, he was sure to be right. "The higher my station elevates, the higher does yours. The Lodge may hold your profession in their clawed hands, though if I am soon to be a Celebrant, I might conscript you into my service alone. Would this please you, Mr. Schreiber?" he inquired. "Our relationship is informed by circumstance, yet I cannot deny what I view as a compatibility of our natures. I am sorry: I am filled with proposals for you, ones you appear eager to deny, but . . . I suppose those rejections only work to encourage me, I'm afraid," he laughed.

The man looked to the colorful flowers around them, so many purples and blues. Lorien had many plants that thrived in the cold, a reversal of what was common in the other realms. He had to admit a child-like eagerness at viewing these new things, so different from anything else he knew. In some ways, the Argent's exploratory nature likely served to firm his aims.

[Konrad Schreiber]

There wasn't much else for Konrad to add, not yet. It seemed Stephen was informed enough to know precisely which of the great houses were most affected by the turn of near-cataclysmic events and how he might benefit. The wry thought that he himself might not be needed did cross his mind in a cursory sense, but it was altogether too reasonable to garner much more attention than mild notice. Stephen already had his place at the table and had his eyes set on where he might sit next. So he left the Lord to his machinations, content, for now, to see where they might lead him.

"I've heard in distant lands succession is not always a matter of blood," Konrad clarified, his own easy smile gentle. "I didn't mean to suggest I'd forgotten what happened to your family, Lord." And from what Stephen described, he painted himself more princely than before. Had it not been for the flush of his cheeks and clear display of humble refusal at such a title, Konrad would have teasingly elevated his "Lord" to what was surely a rightful "Highness".

Their sudden shift of direction and Stephan's familiar jostle coaxed a startled, "Oh!" from Konrad's unsuspecting person, but he followed easily enough. It was strange to be around someone so who was so outwardly friendly all while being as comparatively dangerous as the Kindred themselves. More and more, he found the Lodge's decision to pair the two of them together extensively well-thought-out. Any other Rien would have resulted, surely, in quite the mess.

"You're many things, Lord," Konrad returned as they slowed their pace for Stephen to admire the lush beauty around them. "But 'sorry'- at least, in this repeated sense of proposals- is hardly one of them." His smile was knowing as he took a step back to allow Stephen a closer examination of a particularly resplendent blooming vine that hung like a jewel from a nearby marble lattice.

"As for my ambitions..." he continued, lips pursed and arms folded beneath the warm folds of his sturdy cloak. "The whims of men are many. Favor, too, often proves itself fleeting. I am not nearly so useful an asset as yourself and thus must tread with a bit more... trepidation." He nodded towards Stephen, his eyebrows arced. "Were I to make the foolish mistake of placing faith where it might not should be placed, I would be woefully struck with consequences inescapable."

"Imagine," he sighed, his smile softening the seriousness of the subject. "If I were to throw myself into the brilliant light of a foreign sun, lulled by its grandeur, only to find myself blinded, ashen, and alone once the night sets. Do not make the mistake of believing my repeated rejections eager, Lord. Each time I find it more difficult to resist, though I admit the now very real possibility of being executed for treason against those already perpetrating the very same does help to keep my voice steady when I inevitably do so."

Konrad let his own gaze drift from Stephen to the garden. The plants and flowers and sculptures were a familiar beauty, something he never thought to seek out but always appreciated in the moment. "I confess fear to be my greatest hurdle. That or maybe my own morbid curiosity. Every path is so... littered with possibility, I often find myself exploring both to the greatest extent I might- until a choice is forced upon me."

His breath fogged as he exhaled, not quite a sigh. "I was not raised to want, you know. Few wealthy Rien are, no matter what they might claim their various aims to be. It's the curse of such a blessing: having so very little that is not immediately given there remains almost nothing to pursue." He let his stare settle back upon Stephen, his eyes betraying no sadness or self-pity, only that gentle warmth of pleasant conversation. "Almost nothing," he repeated a bit more emphatically. "And while I consider your and my own ambitions easily separated by a vast chasm of differences in both nature and scope, I am dreadfully curious to see what it is exactly you'll end up... doing here."

There was no need to repeat all that they'd already discussed. A couple spoke together quietly some distance away, deeper into the garden's center, and perched upon an intricately carved stone bench. It was better not to get too specific. "So- for whatever worth it carries- know that your confidence in me is well placed, for now. As things are, I would much rather take my chances by your side than opposed. I only ask that you keep in mind I am Rien, and any Rien man who either cannot or refuses to name his own ambitions should never be given the entirety of one's trust. Tread where you must, Lord, but know there may-or may not- come a time where I cannot follow."

"Not even I can be certain where that might be." His smile that followed was warm and toothy. "Though I suppose you'd have no difficulty carrying me should we arrive at such a place if at all."

[Taelian Edevane]

Konrad's newest rejection was as swift and ornately woven as any other had been, though this time it came with a much longer and more deliberate explanation. He found himself glad that he had asked: the Savant's explanation served to detail his own perspective and motive, in a way that was not too easy to discern. The Argent found himself amused by the audacity with which he spoke, of his distinct desire not to commit to any such dangerous loyalties, and for Stephan not to trust a man such as himself, who would perhaps be found fleeting from his side should any danger follow them.

It was the nature of a Rien man, described in a few eloquently-spoken paragraphs of thought, made bare for him to acknowledge and understand. And unlike the prior rejections, this one did not stoke any flame in him to press further on. He found in the man a limit that could not be stretched or manipulated by words alone. Instead, he offered a path elsewhere, one less honorable to seek: until a choice is forced upon me, he said. That outcome -- perhaps one less desirable for Konrad -- was one very real in the coming days, given that they descended into war and treason more and more every coming hour.

And as if the Gods saw fit to remind them, their ears suddenly rung with a whistling sound: it was the Aether Cannon, firing from the Lodge. A crystalline burst of great arcane power escaped from its helm, lighting up the sky like a comet as it passed, seeking out prey. Stephan stared upon the ethereal bolt with reverence as it flung between the few, scattered clouds. It was almost completely enthralling to view, and the sound that escaped it never failed to send chills through his spine.

"I will allow you to make your determinations as things unfold," he simply replied, persevering through the sound and the tremor-like reaction it induced. Sometimes -- and perhaps Konrad would see this -- Stephan appeared so unfazed by him that it was almost as if he did not hear him at all. Rather than neglect, or any deliberate attempt to ignore him, however -- it was because he did not wish to press the matter to a stifling degree. He heard the other man's words and quietly acknowledged them, taking note of the fine accents of his speech. As he had learned previously, and was consistently reminded of, Konrad was truly a beautiful speaker -- even when putting the mage in his place.

"Let us speak to my more immediate ambitions, ones that can be expressed more... openly, without fear of retribution. I would, in fact, like to take my place here in Brandt as a proper Lord. War offers many opportunities, particularly ones such as these where treason and factionalism come so often into play. Those Lords who choose the Kindred over their rightful liege, Lady Galbrecht, will find their lands and titles distributed elsewise. I would like you to assist me in being aware of such opportunities, and helping me to capitalize on them. I think this is more than reasonable."

This, it would seem, was less of a request and more of an expectation as his charge.

"I intend to formalize my marriage with Riven after proving my worth, as any heroic feats in service of our mutual liege will help to silence inconvenient dissent. So: I will formalize my request once I lay upon the head of my first fallen Kindred. I think this is reasonable," he said. "Until then, I am an Argent. I must learn to control Hollows and to fulfill my assigned objectives. Most of these tasks, I will learn to do on my own. You will have no need to be involved."

He came upon an ivory flower, with shimmering leaves. A whole bush of the things, in fact, near the corner of the garden, fenced in by topiaries all around. The petals reminded him of Tyrnac's domain in Sil-Elaine, the silver-white sheen, the reflection. Stephan let out another sigh, one of nostalgia. Finally, he thought to reply in full to everything the man told him: much of which, he accepted as true.

"Men's whims are fleeting, indeed, dathúil. Today, you and I meet as friends of separate, but conjoined function. I look at you and I see a man worth obsession: attractive, smart, well-spoken, wise. By Glade, I may despise you. There is much truth in your words, and haste most often serves to hasten one's downfall. Still - I hope we might be able to find one another dependable, in these trying times," he said.

Stephan started to pluck some of those ivory flowers, tossing them at Konrad in a way clearly intended for him to catch. He was... plundering the royal garden, doing so as a method of lightening the mood. He was aware it would possibly serve to do the opposite.

"Tell me of your parents," he urged him. "Do they enjoy this profession of yours? For a Savant, it appears esteemed enough. You are within -- through only a few layers of separation -- proximity to the Duchess. Are you a point of pride, to them?"

[Konrad Schreiber]

For a man supposedly unused to servants, Stephen managed to find a comfortable enough fit into the role within a day's time. Konrad grinned at the permission granted, a bemused, "Thank you, Lord," in reply. For all his lightheartedness, his thanks was truly in earnest. Stephen was no Rien and, while not to the point of casting doubt upon their passing appearances, Konrad treated him as such. He could only imagine what the response might have been had he said the same to a full blooded man or woman or Lorien. It was certainly nothing good.

The sharp cry of the canon's arcing light was more than enough to force Konrad to nearly jump out of his own skin. Eyes wide for the brief moment it took for thought to catch up to sight, he let out a heavy sigh and shook his head. There was no getting used to so fearsome a thing, not for him, though, upon inspection of the man beside him, it appeared Stephen had done so already. He was unruffled and already filling the following silence.

As prefaced, they were much more manageable goals, if not still retaining that lofty air of what surely would have been improbably had they been pursued by any other foreigner with a false name during any other time in Lorien's storied history. "Very well, Lord," Konrad confirmed. He already was vaguely aware of which lands and whose estates had been abandoned and were now being vied for by the various scrabbling few who remained, but even making an attempt was near pointless without precise information. If it was land and true title Stephen planned to claim, Konrad had no issue supplying him the tools to make it so.

"It all sounds quite reasonable, yes," he agreed, though to be told so directly his services would not be needed filled him with a surprisingly sharp sting to his pride. Stephen only continued to prove himself more capable a Rien by the minute.

It was good, at least, to know the other man had some understanding of Konrad's own mind. Still, at the mention of "despise", he cocked his eyebrow and returned a look of mock horror that Stephen might even entertain so ghastly a thought. His horror quickly filled itself into be genuine when Stephen reached out an unceremoniously plucked not one but several of the flowers before them. The bush itself was worth more money than most Rien made in half their lifetime, and the choked gasp of surprise that caught in his throat as he fumbled forward to do the same with the cast off blooms and his hands was clearly distraught.

"Stop that!" he hissed, bright eyes a conflicted mix of alarm and amusement. "You might wield magic and be of a higher position than most, but you've not yet met a Rien head gardener!" The flowers quickly and surreptitiously disappeared into his jacket pocket. "You wish to find me dependable?" he continued, gloves hands slapping away at Stephen's with meaningful force. "I assure you: attempting to make me accomplice to your crimes of vandalism is not the way to go about it." Yet in spite of himself, there was laughter in his voice even as he struggle to make certain his charge would do no such thing again or at least while he was around.

Calmed somewhat, a hand now wresting upon Stephen's wide wrist to discourage any further crimes, he let out a wry laugh. The mere thought of either of his parents finding pride in him was tragically humorous and sounded just as much in his voice. "Would that I could bear children my mother, perhaps, might take some pride in our acquaintance, though more so for the chance the child might be gifted with your considerable size than my position itself."

His tone was only vaguely bitter as he continued, more weary than anything else. "She- my mother- also hails from your lover's town of Branderbren. An athlete through and through, she was quite famous during her time. My father was born here, in Essen, and is a well known author- well known among Rien. I imagine his works have remained somewhat isolated from the rest of the world." Confident Stephen was going to behave himself, he finally removed his hand from Stephan's with a pat. "She married my father for position and he her for her... how did they always put it... 'stout and sturdy disposition'." His smile was soft with distant nostalgia. "As you can see, I am the end result."

"Ah!" Light brightened his eyes for a moment as the quietly clapped his hands together in realization. "Dathúil. Yes, I believe I'm not wholly dissimilar, though I'd like to point out my hair doesn't 'flow with the shimmering light of a thousand stars' and I'm at least a century or four behind his learned status." He stared back at Stephen, smile now a simple show of mirth. "As for whether or not I enjoy attending to you?" He gestured pointedly at his breast pocket. "It has its ups and downs."