Palatial Complex of Ani, State of Karelia
Grand Principality of the Greater VanyaNarses squinted irately at Vahagn as his brother strolled into the great hall, his dark, curly hair disheveled and his apple-cheeked face aglow. The younger man's crimson
galia was wrinkled and hung off from his well-muscled breast. "Ah, brother!" Vahagn called gleefully, "You were right when you told me that I should pay more attention to foreign relations. The experience was quite... enriching." Narses heaved a deep sigh, and, stretching out his ebony cane, hoisted himself to his feet, ignoring the searing pain that pulsed through his club foot. "You're too reckless, little brother," he griped, "Everyone saw you flirting with the ambassador's wife."
"I'm certain half the ambassadorial wing heard us last night as well," Vahagn chuckled "She was a screamer, that one." He tugged his robes until they unraveled and landed in a heap on the cool, stone floor. "Your flippancy tries my patience," Narses grumbled, "This is important, Vahagn. We need the Trekan ships if we're to hold the Khargic Gulf and the northern sea-lanes." Vahagn made a pretense of a waltz and stepped past his brother, splashing water from a bowl onto his weary-looking face. Rivulets clung to his neatly manicured beard, shimmering like ribbons of silver. "Do you know what else we need, brother?" Vahagn said, "Daring. The kind of daring it takes to poke your head out over a bunker or to kiss a woman."
"Even a married woman?" Narses asked, scowling somewhat. "Especially a married woman," Vahagn answered with a wink of his good eye, "My most recent exploit will no doubt have half the ladies at
Amgheria gossiping and swooning." Narses's eyes narrowed. "I suspect that not everyone who speaks of your indiscretions will do so with girlish giggles," he said, "The
Amgheria is not a coop of hens after all." Vahagn seemed to contemplate this for a moment, nodding slowly. "Just so," he said at last, "The soldiers will toast me when they're in their cups and the soft courtiers of the capitol will tremble when I ask their wives and daughters to dance. I get your meaning, but enough chiding. Come to the bath with me, brother, and let's talk of more youthful dances." He began walking towards a long stairwell.
"Whatever do you mean?" Narses inquired, hobbling along behind his brother. "My nephew and his enchanting dance partner, of course," Vahagn laughed, "The Pahlavuni girl. Blonde, taller than him by three inches, and too pretty by far. A bit ungainly for my tastes, but I can see her charms. She's well-bred too so even a prude like you can't object." Narses winced as his foot collided with a stair and sent pain snaking up his leg. "Ah, Zelda," he said, "I do not disagree with you. I love that girl as though she were my own daughter." They finally reached the bath after a long walk that left Narses's gasping for air with a smarting leg.
The facility was beautiful, constructed of brown, pink, and grey stones that could be warmed by the heating system below them. The facets were welded from bronze to resemble the mouths and heads of long-necked, frilled dragons and sea serpents. The water that poured forth from them originated in the local hot springs, rich with exfoliating minerals that left the skin soft and shining. They filled the tub and perched themselves on opposite benches, allowing the water to splash over their heads and shoulders as their feet were gradually submerged.
"This is just what the doctor ordered, eh, brother?" Vahagn said, slumping down. "I'm content," Narses said in turn, "My pain is subsiding, my daughter is making friends of the Trekans..." Vahagn guffawed heartily. "The fish-mongers have ambition," he said, "They want our friendship more than we want theirs, but, if ever you need an ambassador, I volunteer as tribute. Half the population will love us; the other half, well... It's fortunate I sleep with a pistol or two on my person." Narses rolled his eyes.
"Dear, brother," Narses suggested softly, "You may find your services in demand sooner rather than later." Vahagn blinked, drawing a tense breath. Then he gave Narses's a curious look. "I spoke to the Grand Prince," the older man began again. "Our father, you mean?" Vahagn growled, bristling somewhat. "Yes," Narses continued, "I spoke to him regarding your behavior last night. He instructed me to dispatch you to Minachia so that you might argue for our access to the northern sea-lanes." Vahagn brushed himself with a sponge so hard that Narses thought he might break the skin. "I suppose he thinks that a punishment of some sort," Vahagn muttered darkly, "We have next to no hope of convincing them. So it's an exile of sorts."
A poignant silence hung made it almost difficult to breathe. "I'll do it," Vahagn said at last, "I've been meaning to visit our neighbors to the north for some time anyhow. The women may be cold, but I've heard good things about their soldiery. When do I leave?"
"Tomorrow," Narses answered immediately. "Two members of the princely family gone within the week," Vahagn said, "That'll be a minor scandal, but then I have knack for those. Wish me luck, brother. If both missions succeed, all our enemies will evaporate over night."
Open Blue Skies
Portown, United States of TrekaBeda nibbled voraciously on the half-sandwiches that Zelda had been sweet enough to make that morning. They consisted of lightly toasted bread, a savory spread of creamy feta cheese sweetened with delicate additions of strawberry extract, and toppings that included sliced granny smith apples, raisins of two colors, and lightly-salted, roasted walnuts. Zelda had intended them as a light snack, but Beda had already devoured six of the sandwiches, not counting the one that was swiftly dissolving into crumbs before their eyes. Romina had assumed her general lofty air, deigning only to glare at her gluttonous friend. "What?" Beda griped at last. "You're so ill-mannered, Beda," Romina huffed, "A lady is supposed to eat slowly." The younger girl took one last, massive mouthful to finish the sandwich, almost choking until she washed it down with a gulp of water. "I was hungry," she replied, shrugging her shoulders.
"How on earth were you hungry!?" Romina exclaimed, "You ate two bowls of fruit and five granola bars at breakfast!" Beda shrugged again, brushing crumbs from her dress with rough strokes of her tiny hands. This caused wrinkles to form her rich verdant dress, but the inattentive fifteen year old failed to take any notice. "She's a growing girl," Alina laughed, "Those sandwiches are in a better place now." As if to accentuate the point, Alina lightly squeezed one of Beda's breasts, making the younger girl turn a bright shade of crimson. "You're such a perv, Allie," her victim complained grumpily. "It is rather undignified," Romina agreed sternly, "Princesses don't just go around honking their friends' boobs."
"I guess that's true," Alina conceded, "Besides, if I'm always fondling your boobs, no boy'll ever get the chance." Beda looked as though she might jump out the window of the private jetliner, while Romina's mouth hung agape. Zelda, who had been quietly reading a book of romantic poetry from Imereti, giggled softly at the remark. "You're being mean today, Allie," she scolded her, "You shouldn't tease her so." Alina glanced at her inquisitively. Zelda was a demur, bookish girl; slender, snow-blonde, and pretty. She was closer to Alina than Beda, and her sweet, careful nature balanced wonderfully with Alina's much more impulsive tendencies. "Don't be jealous, Zelda," she shot back, "While it may be difficult to find them, I'll squeeze your boobs one day too. Perhaps I'll dispatch a princely search party to scour your blouse for clues!" A few stifled giggles erupted from the girls, with Beda snorting audibly as she struggled to contain intermittent bursts of laughter. "You're one to talk," Romina said, a mischievous smile finally reaching to her cheeks, "You used to stuff your bra with tissue paper every morning." This remark was greeted with additional chortling.
"I did," Alina admitted, blushing a pretty pink hue, "I was too young to know better then, but I'm a woman now. And every grown woman knows that a push-up bra is the way to go. Or maybe two push-up bras." Beda stamped her foot. "Is that the speech that got you elected president of the itty-bitty titty committee?" the girl inquired, cocking her head winsomely. "What if it is?" Alina asked. "Then the principality is doomed," Romina said, pretending to bemoan the fate of their nation, "We've never had a tit-less grand princess who couldn't give a speech. What ever will we do?" Alina glanced at her friends conspiratorially. "We've had worse," she said quietly, "We've had dozens of grand princes. We've even survived my uncle." The laughter was unrestrained this time. Beda slammed her hands together in riotous applause, Romina had tears welling up at the corners of her eyes, and Zelda even folded her book shut amid fits of tremulous giggling.
"You mentioned boys earlier, Allie?" Zelda finally managed, "Why don't you tell us about your admirer?" Alina frowned, folding her arms stiffly across her chest. "Imeda is NOT an admirer," she sniffed, "He's just a childhood friend." A soft smile blossomed on the other girl's face. "That's precisely what a girl half in love would say," Zelda reasoned. "You've been reading too many romance novels," Alina grumbled, biting her lip in irritation.
"You'd be better off marrying an Izoria anyhow," Romina asserted. Beda made a disgusted face, tensing her fists into little, fleshy balls. "Aleksandre Izoria is so plain-looking though," she said, dragging her words out for emphasis. "He has a pretty eyes," Zelda allowed, attempting to focus on the man's redeeming qualities, "And his sense of humor is rumored to be very keen." Romina shook her head forcefully. "None of that matters," she said, "He's high nobility. That should be enough for anyone." Every one of them knew that Romina prioritized a man's status and wealth over his looks, personality, or manners. She was a daughter of the Gens Nymphidii, as her full name made abundantly clear, and this had shaped her views of marriage from an early age. Her grandfather was a strict, old-fashioned man who wholly embodied the Latin ethos and firmly believed that the needs of one's family should come before personal desires. This explained many of Romina's behaviors and much of her attitude. "It's talk like that that makes everyone think you're going to marry a fat, old man one day," Beda remarked playfully. Romina laughed, but it was halfhearted and her gaze looked pained.
Alina peered at Romina sympathetically, knowing full well how wounding the innocent joke had been. "Enough talk of boys," she said at last, "We're going to Treka to plan a charity event. So we'll need to be on our best behavior." Zelda seemed to heave a sigh of relief, whereas Romina gave her queen a thankful glance. "Yuck," Beda said, "Don't the fish-mongers hate us anyway?" "It's necessary," Astrid replied, "My grandfather still refuses to allow me to appoint Zelda as our Chancellor of the Exchequer, so I figure this is our next best option. We need to make friends and get economic aid somehow?" Zelda beamed at her, a slight blush creeping onto her pale skin. Economics, maths, literature, and languages were the four areas where Zelda excelled as a student, and, while normally humble, she was very open to flattery from people she respected and adored.
"I see the city!" Beda screamed excitedly. "And so it begins," Romina said ominously, as the jet began to descend. "I wonder what Treka will be like," Zelda muttered, opening her book to the exact page she had been reading. Alina felt sweat pooling in her palm. Yet another test. How many more would her grandfather need before he realized that she, not Aram, was fit to rule?