It was not often that Tiberius found himself taken aback, at a loss for words. He was that now, watching the Archon of Tevinter strut about the office. His throat had gone quite dry and he gulped what was left of his wine, examining the chasm that had just opened up beneath his feet. As if the floor of the palace were gone, and Minrathous lay below in all of its pointy, dragon-infested glory.
“You … You think because I was away for six years, that I am uninvolved in these plots.” A statement, not a question, as he struggled to understand Arvina’s proposal. It was utterly insane, of course.
Tiberius thought of his grandfather, scheming for a hundred years, always scheming. Devouring his own children with forbidden magic – all in the name of their House – that he might live just a little longer. That he might build a deeper fortune, a more enduring legacy, one crumb of power at a time. And here was Demetrius, offering an entire feast only because some fey whim told him Tiberius was safe and non-threatening. Competent enough to survive the occasional assassination attempt but unable or unwilling to engineer one in turn.
He tried to see Malachai’s shape in it and failed. The chancellor respected his claws more than most – though it was hardly any special mark of character. Mal was paranoid by profession and natural inclination both. Tiberius sank deeper into his chair, as if pressed there by a heavy hand.
“If that is your will my Lord, then let it be so.” There had been a few ifs in Arvina’s offer but Tiberius had few illusions. If he told the Archon no to his face, there would be punishment. Very likely he’d not make it home. He could ill afford to sit here, whelmed. Sitting up and leaning his elbows on his knees, Tiberius winced as the wine sat poorly in his empty stomach.
Accords such as this were usually sealed in blood. A marriage or formal adoption into the ruler’s family. He hoped Arvina would make no such demands, though saw little recourse for refusing him if he did.
“I will need special consideration to expand my household guard, of course.”
@Demetrius Arvina
“You … You think because I was away for six years, that I am uninvolved in these plots.” A statement, not a question, as he struggled to understand Arvina’s proposal. It was utterly insane, of course.
Tiberius thought of his grandfather, scheming for a hundred years, always scheming. Devouring his own children with forbidden magic – all in the name of their House – that he might live just a little longer. That he might build a deeper fortune, a more enduring legacy, one crumb of power at a time. And here was Demetrius, offering an entire feast only because some fey whim told him Tiberius was safe and non-threatening. Competent enough to survive the occasional assassination attempt but unable or unwilling to engineer one in turn.
He tried to see Malachai’s shape in it and failed. The chancellor respected his claws more than most – though it was hardly any special mark of character. Mal was paranoid by profession and natural inclination both. Tiberius sank deeper into his chair, as if pressed there by a heavy hand.
“If that is your will my Lord, then let it be so.” There had been a few ifs in Arvina’s offer but Tiberius had few illusions. If he told the Archon no to his face, there would be punishment. Very likely he’d not make it home. He could ill afford to sit here, whelmed. Sitting up and leaning his elbows on his knees, Tiberius winced as the wine sat poorly in his empty stomach.
Accords such as this were usually sealed in blood. A marriage or formal adoption into the ruler’s family. He hoped Arvina would make no such demands, though saw little recourse for refusing him if he did.
“I will need special consideration to expand my household guard, of course.”
@Demetrius Arvina
02-10-2025, 12:50 PM
