Qhe the Younger
The Blue Palace
Qhe sat in his chair watching the courtiers come and go for some time, becoming increasingly less interest in the musings of the ballroom. The fact was that every face, new and old, could contain a plotter's mind behind those masks, and there was simply little he could do to detect them for now. It was, after all, the first ball of a new emperor's reign. There was too many eager political hatchlings running around to discern any changes in the air. Especially since the political atmosphere was a ravenous torrent already.
Once Qhe had gotten all the amusement he could from watching the hassle inflicted on the emperor's guards by all the approaches, he went to sipping chilled wine and playing with a handful of coins from his pockets. Despite this, he still honed in with sharp ears to specific areas of discussion. Particularly, the emperor talking with the marshal.
"Troop movements in the northern territories... his mind raced at the possibilities. It didn't take long to come to a conclusion that it was likely borderland attacks from neighbors or heated unrest in the area. Either way, it further illustrated just how deep the wounds of the empire bled. While men and women danced and laughed to the tune of a new emperor, and new chances for power, the very land outside of their blind little world was starting to burn. It wouldn't be long before that burn turned to raging fire.
A raging fire that would turn their pretty little dream to ashes.
From that point forward, he became acutely aware of the whispers coming off the throne pedestal, though he continued at his actions of complete apathy, picking at breads and yawning ever so often. It was better that way, so that others were unaware of his spying by sound.
It wasn't how his father would do it. That man would have sat straight in his chair, proud and upright, serving his liege with utmost diligence and care. He would be the shining paragon in the room, the eyes of a hawk who's only design was to snatch the mice his master demanded for, while at the same time tempering that command so that only justice reigned in the empire.
That man, was dead, and in his place sat his only son. A son who understood it required more than righteousness to achieve the best results for the realm—even if it mean't spying on his own liege.
He watched a messenger approach the throne, clearly unaware of the taboo that had been set by the previous emperor. Qhe listened this time as well, when the emporer revealed the contents of the message to the marshal.
He cringed slightly at the news. If revolts were happening right outside the capital, then the empire was almost bled dry. Suddenly, he couldn't tell if he regretted his return, or if he should praise whatever divinity was out there for sending him in time.
Qhe didn't move when the emperor stood from his seat and sauntered down the steps, nor did he turn as the marshal and Roland left the room in a different direction. Perhaps it was improper not to do so, but at the moment his mind was minnow darting across the ponds of thought. In his mind, he walked silently in the grove he had walked all his life. The grove of contemplation.
Once those parties had made their exit, he was sure the ball was going to die down with the disappearance of Brandon. Still, now was his time to take another good look at those around before he himself abandoned the masquerade.
It was then that he first truly noticed Prince Corineus of Alba, the Steward, and his wife, Princess Talia. With their marriage, that made Corineus the imperial brother-in-law, a strong if not potentially fatal position to have in these early times.
Qhe stood from his chair and dusted off his buff colored robes, which had turned to a darker tan with the loss of light. The braziers in the room did little to remedy that.
A servant came and quickly removed the chair as Qhe set his focus on Corineus and his wife. The prince was only five years Qhe's senior, yet due to the makeup of the imperial court, was more a contemporary of Qhe's father rather than Qhe himself. Still, the two men were acquainted, if not as much as would be expected of two men from the same generation.
Qhe couldn't tell which had aged better. On one hand, the Prince had clearly lost much to the stresses of his job both past and present, but Qhe himself was turning white half a decade earlier and bore some marks from his long travels.
With the coast clear, Qhe's cat moved from the shadows of the crowd and climbed it's way up onto the throne and slinked around the pedestal, pacing it's master somewhat.
The royal adviser approached Prince Corineus directly, hands folded before him in the cuffs of his robes.
"Prince Corineus, Princess Talia.", he said, giving each a bow.
"If you wouldn't mind, Princess, I'd like to borrow your husband for a moment. I'm afraid we have some matters of import to discuss."
