The Mianodian Stratagem (IC | Meillur Only)

[Cinyras]

The King of Cinyras had picked the perfect outfit for his talks about world domination.

Enríkos II of Cinyras stepped into the grand hall of the Pavilion of Hesperos followed by a small army of nobles at his back. The nobles, weeded our long ago by the king of all the older generations, followed swiftly after him, but their sovereign, despite his average statue outpaced them all. Enríkos thought it humorous how they scampered after him. Like dogs after their master. He figured that was a fair assessment of their relationship. The roughly three hundred members of the Cinyroite nobility were descended from the 15 families that had been ennobled by Enríkos’ grandfather and namesake, Enríkos I when he became the first king of Cinyras.

Enríkos had, quite surprisingly had destroyed most of the cronyism that had plagued the reigns of his father and grandfather before him. Where his grandfather had little interest in governing, and so had left things in the hands of nobles, and his father had been entirely dependent on his advisors, who truly ruled the nation, Enríkos II suffered none of that. Kings were supposed to have control of everything. Perhaps not directly. But in the end, the buck stopped at Enríkos. The King also had no interest in long term favoritism. He enjoyed showing nobles how replaceable were. One could rise and fall easily at the hand of Enríkos, for he was the sun. Don’t get too close.

The spirit of Enríkos the Sun King, of his role as a living god in Cinyras, of Helios, radiated throughout the Pavilion of Hesperos. It was a massive palace that glowed with light and gold. The great hall was the finest example. So shiny were the walls and art installations, at the right time of day there was a threat of going blind. The palace had been forced to issue warnings to its guests not to enter the great hall at certain times of the day. Lining the hall were titanic marble nude statues of Enríkos. He had learned from his forefathers that it was important to build. Engineering ran in his blood, and monuments were his family’s bread and butter.

Enríkos II reached the end of the great hall and the dais upon which the Sun Throne sat. The Sun throne was a gold and silk masterpiece. It sat in from of a giant golden sunburst, the symbol of Enríkos’ dynasty. He walked up the steps to the throne. Behind him the nobles scattered to their places around the throne. The King sat on the throne, propping his leg on his knee and reclining back in the throne. Enríkos rolled his eyes. He didn’t need the nobles here anyway. And it would be best if they weren’t here for this meeting. He waved his hand. Instantly the nobles realized they were being dismissed. Again they scattered, leaving the great hall.

Soon all that were left in the great hall were the king and his guards. His guards were selected first for their skill and second for their looks. After all, why not be deadly and gorgeous? Half were muscular men dressed in royal blue chitons and the other half were tall statuesque women in tuxedoes. Enríkos considered ordering them to leave. He decided against it. Enríkos was, despite the fact that he continued to spout his pacifistic rhetoric, a battle hardened veteran of active military service, regularly trained and honed his skills. He could more than handle himself against most foes. But the devil that he was inviting into his home was one even he was wary.

Enríkos II wore white gold toed shoes, and white trousers trimmed worn gold thread that cling to his leg in a slimming fashion. He wore an altered chiton, made of fine hand woven white silk, embroidered with the Sun of Mianodes on his chest and miniature version on the hem that reached just above his knees and the collar. The chiton was loose, held at the collar by two glittering golden clasps on either side of Enríkos’ neck, and held by a gold and white belt at his waist. It’s narrow cut left his sides, a third of of his front, and almost all of his back free to be gazed upon. The outfit was both brilliantly white and pure as well as scant and seductive.

His sun crown was dazzling. It was made of solid gold and studded with polished diamonds. Enríkos’ cerulean eyes were bright with excitement. He was going to make the world his. He was going to make the greatest empire in the world. He was going to make the autocrats of Derita and sovereigns of the Dutch Empire seem insignificant once he brought all of humanity under the imperial umbrella of of his new empire. And he would do whatever it took to do so. His preferred conquest by peace. What a great game that was, winning without a drop of blood. But he was ready to use blood, and to dance with the devil. It would be so good to see Nukai again.

[Russlande]

Nukai felt like the grim reaper entering the palace of the sun titan. While the King of Cinyras had covered his home in gold, Nukai had always preferred more somber colors. He wore his midnight back robes of a priest in the Faith, the dark cloak bellowing behind him as his entered the great hall of the Pavilion of Hesperos. The glimmering lights reflected off of the golden walls shined brightly on the silver cross that hung around his neck. He marched down the great hall swiftly, a line shadow in a world of light. The King of Cinyras thought himself heavenly, a living amongst mere mortals. Nukai didn’t mind to point out that for ever heaven existed a hell.

The Chancellor stopped at the foot of the dais. Nukai looked up at the young king, who he often forgot was in fact older than himself. He realized that this was the first time it was Nukai looking up at Enríkos. Nukai was, while not as towering as some of his relatives, was a tall man. The King of Cinyras was not. A less observant viewer might have thought this made Enríkos insecure. Nukai found Enríkos seemed to delight in every aspect of his being. It was the rest of the world the King seemed determined to change. A noble endeavor depending on the man. No king intended on making the world worse.

If Enríkos would make the world better or worse seemed unclear. One would find just as many arguing yes as arguing no. The same could be said about Nukai. He had certainly improved the lives of everyday Russens with his reforms and policies. That was not necessarily the same for people in other nations. Good intentions reaped negative consequences. Villainous actions brought peace and progress. And sometimes things were entirely out of the control of man and left to be decided by God. Of course, Nukai supposed that Enríkos thought himself a god at times so his perspective on the matter might be a bit warped.

“Your Magnificence,” Nukai said with a bow that was just restrained enough not to be taken as an insult. Nukai had given the King of Cinyras that style of address, a bit of flatter during a party. He had never intended for Enríkos to formally adopt it. “I see King Christianós shall not be joining us. Do seen him my regards.” Nukai knew for a fact that Christianós hated him. He also knew Enríkos took some twisted delight in that. “I must admit thought that we would be speaking in private. After all our matter is one most pressing the fates of nations and princes. It would be most wise of you to make sure that no one aside from the two of us are privy to this information.”

[Cinyras]

Enríkos watched Nukai cross the great hall. A single spec of black on a backdrop of gold. Growing ever larger and larger. The Chancellor and the King. One in white and the other in black. It made for such great flare. Couldn’t have better coordinated it if he had done so himself. They complimented one another. He put his fist to his chin. It was always a strange dance that they took part in whenever they met. Nukai was dangerous and yet so enjoyable to have around. Enríkos’ mother warned him of guys like Nukai. He felt like they were two suns circling each other, threatening to crash and destroy themselves but unable to escape the others grasp.

His rules changed whenever Nukai entered the equation. Nukai claimed he served the King of Cinyras, but Enríkos and Christianós, his husband, both knew that could not be the truth. They’d discussed it thoroughly. Christianós loathed Nukai. With the same passion that he loved Enríkos. He didn’t trust the Russen. Neither did Enríkos fully. The King of Cinyras suspected that it was a matter of convenience. Not that he wanted what Enríkos wanted. They however did want the same thing. The world. But Nukai lacked vision. He lacked the ability to think on a grand scale. He was a tool, a champion. He needed a cause to fight for. Thus he became Enríkos’.

As Nukai stopped at the bottom of the dais, Enríkos smiled. He had never gotten to look down at the chancellor. It was an enjoyable sight. Another boom of working with Nukai. The grand duke’s greatest assets were of course his skill and brain for getting tasks down. But it didn’t hurt that he was quite pleasing to look at. Shame he covered up himself in those garish priestly robes. And that horrid cross. Enríkos smile only grew when he heard Nukai’s voice. It was already a nice voice, so soothing and deep, almost hypnotic at times. It was steel covered in honey. But it was being called ‘Your Magnificence’ by him that sent chill down his spine. He did love that.

Unfortunately, Nukai kept talking. Ruined the entire gratification of it all. Enríkos’ smile collapsed into a neutral line. There was something to be said about Nukai and Christianós, so similar and yet so different. Christianós was a hammer while Nukai was poison. Christianós had an honest but brutal nature, his actions clear and tactical. Nukai was unknown and caused hidden and long lasting chaos, strategic in great aims. One might spot him in Riessany, entirely unaware his goal was directed at Atmora. Enríkos did enjoy watching the two go at odds with one another. Christianós got incredibly protective whenever Nukai was around and it was a nice feeling to have from him.

But Christianós would only cause tension. This was not the time for that. Though Enríkos started to regret not having his most skilled and beloved General at his side When he heard Nukai’s next words. Enríkos didn’t suspect Nukai would kill him. Though, naturally Nukai was good at making his victims think that. One couldn’t be too careful. But Enríkos feared that Nukai might be right. The matters they wished to discuss were serious. Empires unraveled at the loosening of lips. And if Enríkos refused to dismiss the guards then he risked giving Nukai the impression that he was afraid of him. The King refused to let that happen. It would only serve to weaken him. If Christianós was here, he couldn’t be dismissed and if necessary, he could rip Nukai in two in a fair fight.

Not that Nukai had a knack for fairness either. He did have one for phrasing. Enríkos felt relaxed by the idea that this was his decision. His wise decision. He shifted in his throne, waving his hands. The guards hesitated, and then bowed, leaving the great hall. Enríkos felt his heart skip a beat. He didn’t do well alone. He had grown up alone in a palace, he didn’t like the feeling of returning to that. He preferred company. He wasn’t sure that Nukai counted in that regard. The sound of the great hall’s doors closing echoed through the hall, like a roar rolling down the throat of a great golden leviathan. They were alone in the belly of the beast.

“Are you satisfied?”

[Russlande]

Nukai rose from his bow slowly. His obsidian colored robes rustled gently against the floor, hiding the fluid motion of his steps. Almost like a ghost, seeming to glide ever closer, the Chancellor of the Russen Empire raised his foot and brought it back down, ascending a single step up onto the dais. He put his hands together as he looked at King Enríkos. His long gloved fingers were pressed together at the tips, his hands forming a downwards pointing diamond. It was the position of an advisor. One who did not issue orders, but followed them. Who crafted them, and presented as belong to people like Enríkos.

“You are too kind to consider such a thing,” Nukai drawled slowly. Nukai was so often silent that he had learned to choose his words carefully when he did speak. He had practiced for hundreds of hours how to make his voice gentle and soothing. He thought of it like a thunderous lullaby. Deep and smooth, something that commanded attention but did not frighten. There were many people who responded to fear. But there were many more who did not. With comfort one could go much further, it merely took time. Patience was a heavenly virtue. Nukai had long ago under the tutelage of his stepmother mastered such a skill.

With patience grew strength. Time to grow, to learn, to consolidate. Enríkos knew nothing of patience. He only wanted. And he wanted swiftly, quickly. It was why he had toppled his father from the throne, because a man like Enríkos could not stand to sit in the wings. Even if he had no business being center stage. Nukai would much rather be the director, moving the actors across the stage. His stepmother had been, still was, a personal like that, whispering into the ear of more important persons and controlling them. No one had ever considered to think that little Elisabeth had been the true power behind the throne of several monarchs. No one saw gravity holding everything in place. They were too blinded by the sun.

“I am here for a singular purpose, a purpose that goes beyond the wants or needs of a man like me, I am a servant. My fate lays in your hands,” Nukai paused, looking up into Enríkos’ eyes. The light and dark difference between them did not stop at their clothes. It continued in its physical form into their bodies. Enríkos, light and lean, tanned from the sun, but compared to Nukai still unscarred and pale, almost pink. Nukai was broad and dark as smooth melted chocolate, his undertones reddish and sharp. Enríkos was naturally sun kissed blond. Nukai possessed dark black hair. But their eyes. Their eyes were eerily similar. Blue. But very different shades.

Enríkos’ eyes were cerulean, the same color of the tropical sea that was just outside of these golden walls. A perfect symbol for Enríkos. A tropical ocean. Beautiful and warm. Dangerous yes, as all seas were. But calm and playful most of the time. A place did not mind visiting. Nukai’s blue eyes, so like his mother’s, were colder, harsher. They were the color of a melting glacier, crackling and falling into an arctic sea. Frightening and awe inspiring. Untamed and unpredictable. Unforgiving. But changing. Slowly taking form as something else just as unknowable as what had been and all the more different.

There was a game to it all. Nukai and Enríkos both knew it. But only Nukai knew which game it was and only he could shape the rules. This meeting was one of great importance. It was one of choice. To decide the fate of not merely kings but of billions of lives, each as precious and unique as the two of theirs. Nukai saw no objective reason why one life should be worth any more than another. It merely lay in the perspective of individuals of who lived and who died. Nukai merely acted on it. So he thought it only fair that first fate be made Enríkos’. It was up to the King of Cinyras to choose. “I, am here to serve. So Your Magnificence, how mat I serve you?”

[Cinyras]

Enríkos felt another shiver roll down his spine. He did love to hear Nukai call him that. It distracted him a bit. He shifted in his throne, not realizing that he was like a flower chasing the sun, leaning closer to the grand duke. The idea of Nukai servicing him was always a beautifully dangerous one. Of course the King of Cinyras knew that was not what Nukai had meant. But what existed in his imagination existed privately and at his own leisure. He wondered briefly what went on in the brain of Nukai. Enríkos suspected it was something dreadfully boring. Concerns for the poor perhaps. Reformist economic policies maybe.

“My wish your command is it?”

Enríkos wiggled his foot, propped up on the throne’s arm rest. The golden toe of his shoe flowed like a miniature star. With easy, unconscious movements he sent that golden glimmering miniature star tracing a circle in the air. Nukai was rather like a genie. Minus the blue skin. Strange and other worldly, arriving when it seemed the most convenient and completing the wish of those he ‘served’. How many the king wondered. How many people Nukai kneeled at the side of and offered his advise to? Was Enríkos the first? He highly doubted that. Though he did think, he hoped that he was the only one.

[Russlande]

Nukai gave Enríkos a devilish smile. He tilted his head, turning slowing to pace his way along the edge of the dais. His black robes shifting like shadows rolling across the floor, shifting over his form. Nukai didn’t mind being compared to a genie. They had a reputation for being tricksters. They were powerful. Masters of providing their temporary masters exactly what they asked for whilst also get what it was that they themselves desired. And all their stories ended with them being freed, one way or another’s How could such a creature not be admired. Nukai was positively flattered by the King of Cinyras’ comparison.

With a whirl of his robes, he turned. Enríkos was not far off. But it was not quite so simple. Nukai started to walk in the opposite direction. It was an art of deciding the wishes before they ever touched the wisher’s lips. To craft them while they were still locked in the throat. Plant the seed into the brain and cultivate it to fruition, only to present it like some ancient conquistador stumbling upon a natural phenomenon. That was the truth. It simply didn’t matter that it was. The lie was much prettier. And Nukai found that Enríkos, like so many other people, preferred the pretty thing as opposed to the ugly truth. It kept the world sane.

“Yes,” Nukai said gently. He titled his head to the other side. “Perhaps,” he amended. “Depending on what the command. Though I assure you, that I am not limited to a lamp.” Nukai stopped, and ascended another step up the dais, pivoting in another dark flutter. He paused, lowering his head slight so he had to gaze up at the king. The grand duke stood still, halting his pace as he focused thoughtfully on the Cinyroite monarch. “Allow me to aid you in your endeavors and ease the burden of the crown that weighs upon your head. Trust in my plan Your Magnificence, trust in me and allow me to help you.”

[Cinyras]

Enríkos looked away from Nukai, not wishing to see his eyes. Enríkos prided himself—admittedly on a great many things, he had so many great qualities—on his ability to read people. It was the key to seduction. He had learned to use that in politics, but it never worked on Nukai. Perhaps because it had been the grand duke who had encouraged him to use asymmetric means. And the student had not yet outclassed the master. Enríkos however was still skilled enough to recognize what one was doing. Why and for what reason, when it came to Nukai, remained loss on him. He could only follow the looping mind of the chancellor so far before he felt himself out his depth.

The Cinyroite king dropped his propped up leg from the arm rest of the gleaming Sun throne and brought down to the equally gleaming golden floor of the dais. Had Nukai grown close to him? It felt hard to track his movements. It felt like the way vines in a orchard grew together, entangling themselves with one another at speeds that the human eye did not posses the building to see. For days upon days two separate plants. Then, seemingly all at once brought together in twisted looping embrace. It was only when one recorded and speed through the film could the evolution of it be discovered. Two plants, battling for the light of the sun caught in a struggle.

That was how Enríkos II felt now. As if he were entangled with Nukai. And not in a fun way. How had he gotten here? How had one trip to Russlande sent him down this tangled path that he both saw the danger in, and yet could not turn back from? Enríkos straightened his back and slammed his fists down on the throne. “Stop this Nukai. Don’t think I don’t know what you are doing.”

[Russlande]

Nukai paused. Like an obsidian statute. Perfectly still. That, had been unexpected. Nukai was usually not taken by surprise by people, not even Enríkos with his ever fleeting desires and countless abandoned whims. It slightly tickled him. What on earth was the Cinyroite monarch talking about precisely? Nukai his head, silently studying him, as a hunter might study a particularly agile tiger lounging above him in a tree. Perhaps it was his in fault. He teased the king too much. He normally didn’t play such games with people. But with Enríkos it was always a bit of fun. Nukai couldn’t be expected to be entirely emotionless.

Of course such amusements that he drew from King Enríkos II were just as fleeting as the whims of Enríkos himself. The curse of a hunter. An insatiable hunger lay in them. It kept them moving every forward, onward and beyond. A useful skill, and a tiresome trait at times. What suspicions did Enríkos in that mind of his? Nukai, unlike the rest of the world it seemed, knew Enríkos wasn’t an idiot. A brilliant genius like Anjou, Moghadam or even the Dauphine of Gênes he was not. But a pretty face with a empty head was also false. An acted he played. Nukai understood it. It was a role that he himself had adopted on several occasions.

To think Enríkos was an idiot was to underestimate him. It was why his father, Loudovíkos had lost his throne. He never expected his son, with his adoration for women and fun, was plotting against him, the same had been true in Garianlles and Naterasse, where Enríkos had seemed like a brainless twunk—which was only half true—, more interested in yachts and parties, and been dismissed by their kings. Kings who were now dead—assassinated by Nukai’s skillful hands—, replaced by the Enríkos children. Even without Nukai, Enríkos had managed much success, but it was terribly at risk. For every victory, Enríkos had elsewhere faced defeat.

Nukai was always victorious. It was in his blood. His father’s family never lost. They always won. Victory was their greatest skill, undefeated and unconquered in battle or life. Enríkos II lacked that blood. But his son and heir would not. Nukai didn’t mind helping build an empire for his nephew. But first came the construction of such a fate. Whatever it was that made Enríkos hold back, Nukai would have to find and remove. Or else the dreams Enríkos had would come crashing down around his pretty blond head, and that would be quite inconvenient for Nukai. Nukai mimicked Enríkos, turning away from him to instead focus on one of the Grand statues of the king who wanted an empire. An empire only Nukai could provide.

“And what is that?”

[Cinyras]

Enríkos looked back to Nukai, only to find that the Russen Chancellor was looking at one of the statue of him. He sounded so... unconcerned. Only Nukai, and perhaps Christianós and Adeline ever seemed so easily to dismiss Enríkos when he spoke in such a tone. But Christianós and Adeline both loved him and were loved by him. They knew that there was nothing to fear from him. It was never in Enríkos’ heart to be cruel. But Nukai was not someone Enríkos loved. However complicated his feelings towards the grand duke might be, he knew that love was not in the mix, not in any of its forms.

The Cinyroite people had eight different types of love and words for it. Enrikos held none of them in regard to Nukai. At least he didn’t believe so. As for Nukai, that was a laughable thought all its own. Not that Enríkos was t used to people in love with him. The King of Cinyras had broken many hearts, though he always attempted to do so gently. But with Nukai. It was a ridiculous notion to even entertain. Nukai did not love. The man was incapable of it, that Enríkos was sure of. People—things—like Nukai did not possess human feelings and emotions. They had been removed by some monster, cut out of him long ago. Or perhaps never been in him at all.

Christianós said that Nukai was the devil. A creature from hell that bore no soul. A malevolent shade that was a dark puppeteer in human skin. Exaggerated perhaps. But it served as a well enough point. Nukai was different. Something unlike the rest of him. Whether born that way or crafted intentionally or unintentionally by human hands. There was something that was different. When Enríkos had looked into Nukai’s eyes he saw nothing but what Nukai wished him to see. Ever changing and unknowable. So no, the grand duke did not, could not love Enríkos. Which left a third option, the only option and one that sent icy needles across his skin.

Nukai did not fear Enríkos. Not merely in the physical or mental or even social sense. In the very essence of their beings. He was not concerned with the consequences of his actions or his words. Enríkos served as no threat to him, and thus he did not concern himself with his feelings, or his tones in anyway other to make Enríkos feel more comfortable. It felt like there was air of... something. Lighter than arrogance. Like knowing. It was sharp and clean, and though it existed presumably only in Enríkos’ might felt like steel over his heart. It was such a simple question, and yet never addressed the threat, for it was not one worth mentioning.

Alas, Enríkos was not one to simply kowtow to anyone. He was the king here. He huffed, the crescents of his well manicured nails pressing into his palms. He steel his voice as he spoke with annoyance: “You are speaking in circles. Stop it. It is an aggravation.”

[Russlande]

Nukai spun on his heels, turning to face Enríkos, ascending yet another step. The movements sent his black robes glittering around him, the dark wings of some hellish creature. Nukai let a devilish smirk crut across his lips like a titan’s scythe. Enríkos was always so straightforward. Useful at times. But it lacked strategy and tactic. It lead one to barrel into situations without having made the optimum starting position. It’s why Nukai played with words and took his time. A fierce strike can do more damage to the person using it than it ought to. Self preservation said that it was always best to destroy one’s enemies with the least amount of harm to ones self

“Oh, but Your Magnificence,”

Nukai took another step, further ascending the dais, his motions no longer hesitant or restrained by gently pacing. He continued till he stood on merely the single step below the platform of the sun throne upon which Enríkos sat. He stood straight and tall, but frozen in place right before he took the last step. Even here however the dynamics of the great hall, of the pair of them had shifted. Now he no longer up to Enríkos, but instead had to let his gaze drift down onto the seated monarch, letting mischievous delight glitter in his eyes. Perhaps he shouldn’t tease the king, but he couldn’t help but do so just a bit.

“I always thought you admire the great circles I can form with my tongue?”

[Cinyras]

Enríkos didn’t so much as blush at the clear innuendo. The King of Cinyras was, well, the king of Cinyras. He had not blushed from embarrassment in such a situation as this since he was twelve years old. It was quite usually him making such statements. Enríkos however had to admit that there was a great many times that he wished that Nukai would fill his mouth with something other than words. Words were too easily made into a weapon around Nukai. That, Enríkos had been slow to realize. He had seen Nukai turn Christianós into a ball of fury and anger by just a few sentences.

Words were poison, he believed he’d once heard Nukai say. And the deadliest of poisons at that. Words had a way of settling into ones mind and rotting them from the inside out. Words were how Genocide occurred. Not because people were merely killing, but because they were being directed by words. Nukai, Enríkos figured, didn’t use his talent with stringing beautiful sentences together in order to make a noose with him because words didn’t hold the same weight with him. Enrikos preferred action. And he was not so foolish enough to be moved by the talk of others. He had a reputation of ignoring people who had tried to bend him to their will with pretty promises.

“As much as I adore hearing your voice used for putting dirty thoughts into sound, I’m afraid you are forcing me to be the adult here,” Enríkos pouted. Enríkos was several years older than Nukai, though one might not have guested it with his youthful features and figure, but he was nearly thirty years old. A fact that silently horrified Enríkos. He and Nukai stood at opposite ends of a decade and it did make Enríkos a bit jealous. “You know how much I hate that,” the Cinyroite king continued. He waved his hand in the air like a lazy windmill as he rested his elbow on the arm rest of the throne. “You came here with a plan I thought. What is it?”

[Russlande]

Nukai dropped his hands and reached the top of the dais. He bowed his head slightly. His plan was one that had many moving parts. One could not simply do one thing to get to an ultimate goals. You had to break them into smaller, more manageable goals. Bit by bit. Enríkos didn’t need to know all of the parts. Nukai had learned that from his stepmother, who often sent him to do things without regards to why he was. Such a manner had its advantages and its drawbacks. Nukai felt that with Enríkos it would perhaps be possible to optimize the advantages whilst limiting the drawbacks. They must go in steps. In swift succession, but in succession.

The first step was to deal with Nysa. Nukai had handed the continent to Enríkos on a silver platter, but there had been complications. Part of them the fault of Christianós. Part of them simply misfortune. All battle plans failed the moment a battle began. So they had been forced to adapt. Enríkos had largely been able to salvage things on the continent, handling the widowed queens whilst Nukai had handled the young Catorish monarch. But when one stirred an entire continent they were bound to come up with something. So that issue must be resolved. Thus far most of his plan had gone along swimmingly. Now was the time to push Enríkos into stage left.

“My plan,” Nukai looked upwards as if considering the heavens, “is to fulfill your wishes.” Nukai crossed his arms behind his back. He stepped across the dais, not towards Enríkos, but to the side of him. Across the edge of the dais, the grand duke traced a circle, moving behind the Sun throne and appearing on the other side, resting his hand on one of the golden sun rays of the brilliant glittering throne. He leaned down, closer to Enrikos. Like a friend whispering to his ear. The same way his stepmother had whispered into the ears of kings. “Your Magnificence,” Nukai said with reverence, “is your wish to rule Nysa?”

[Cinyras]

Enríkos looked up at Nukai and found that he was not sure. He feared that engaging in Nysaian affairs would only mean getting bogged down in the squabbling affairs of its natives. Already a division had grown in Nysa, where Enríkos had desired unity. Would the continent be better if it had but a single ruler? Perhaps. But maybe not. It would do him no good if the people he ruled over were divided. The Nysaians were not the most powerful people, but they were fiercely independent. It had been their desire to be ruled over by one of their own that had made the ascension of his son as King of Garianlles so precarious.

Even more so for his daughter, the Queen of Naterasse. It had been decided between him and Queen Alizia to pass their daughter off as the posthumous child of King Christian II. It had been a union of connivence for the both of them. Alizia would have lost her power if she hadn’t had a child within a few months, and Enríkos had no desire to see her and her family return to Garianlles and threaten his own son. So they’d made a deal. Enríkos, notoriously fertile despite his best efforts and his disdain for child, would provide her with a child, she would get one kingdom and he would get another.

But was it Nysa that Enríkos wanted? Not in particular. It was bountiful and useful, but it was only so because it was necessary. And a continent that was a weak collection of states more concerned about their affairs with one another was a better place to start than a continent spanning empire like Derita. “My wish is for my people to be able to flourish. To bring Cinyras into a golden age, where my people need not live in anything less than magnificence. But at this time we, while all may seem well, we are under threat. I have tried importing, stellar colonies, but each comes with the dangers of dealing with others. And Cinyras can not grow as long as there is the blade of hunger and famine pointed at our heart.”

[Russlande]

“So...” Nukai held back a grin. Enríkos certainly had grown as a king. He genuinely cared about the fate of his nation and his people. Or perhaps he had simply realized that when his people were happy and had full stomach, he didn’t have to worry about them turning their anger towards him. Nukai had watched from afar when years ago the Cinyroite people had been ready to march on the palace and relieve Enríkos of his head. It had been quite the worry among his neighbors of white might happen. Hungry people very quickly became desperate people and desperate people were quite easily capable of anything. No one rioted over bureaucratic policy changes. They riot over bread.

Anyone who suddenly nations and empire could recognize that Cinyras was the perfect example of a resource poor country. One that had little to no resource of great value and thus had to look elsewhere to gain profit. Historically this meant conquest. Take the things you needed from places that were far away. Of course the more popular trend was diversifying ones economy. Which was Cinyras’ other issue. Their main export was enríkosvilla, which was a precious and addictive substance that only grew in Cinyras. That and tourism was their backbone and crutch of their country. Their advancement was impressive but on small scale.

Two generations of neglect had left them behind. In all honestly, if one looked past Enríkos personality, he was an impressive king on paper, having made Cinyras fabulous wealthy, managed to maintain a high approval rating and brought military success and powerful allies. His armies were small, but as Nukai had reviewed, were among the best in the worlds. Nikosia was an impressive marvel. But it was only one city. Which lay at the root of Enríkos’ problem. They simply didn’t have enough. There sheer potential meant that under the right hand, they could be a great power. Even now, Enríkos swung alongside those way above his weight class.

With an empire that was good net exporter, Cinyras could be absolutely magnificent. It was a question of how. That’s what Enríkos lacked. The answer. Nukai leaned closer to Enríkos, gripping the throne tightly. “You wish to... conquer Nysa?”

[Cinyras]

Nukai’s voice rolled over Enríkos like a distant thunderstorm. He could feel his words echoing in his head. Conquer Nysa. Conquer Nysa. The King of Cinyras shook his head, looking away from the Russen grand duke. That had not been what he had said. Had it? Nysa had been a vital part of his foreign policy, and he had managed to befriend or seduce much of the key political figures on the continent. But he still only had roughly half of the continent on his side. Perhaps less so who one considered the neutral nations that seemed to take no part in the ever growing division between the East and West. Could he abandon the continent? Of course not.

Nysa United, united under him of course, would be far more useful to him. But exactly was he supposed to do that? There was of course the matter that had come to him from Nysa. But that was a deal that Enríkos had kept to himself. He pondered if Nukai knew about it. No. He couldn’t. Could he? Even if he did, he would be asking Nukai to make a mountain out of a mole hill and Enríkos was not sure that even Nukai was capable of that. And there was always the issue of what lay at the root of it all. Cinyras needed food and modernization. Yes, the capital was able to rival many abroad. His grandfather and father had broken the backs of two generations of Cinyroites to make Nikosia a marvel.

But outside the city limits much of the country was unchanged as it had been in the 20th century, even the late 19th century, rural and existing under the control of TCG plantations. As wealthy as TCG had made Enríkos, for that’s was where the lion share of the wealth in Cinyras went to, it would be foolish to continue to use them to prop up the state. Enríkos disliked the new mysterious and secretive head of TCG. Verga he had known. He still knew. Both the good and bad. Now TCG and Cinyras were even more tangled together than Enríkos and Nukai were. It was hard at times to know where the company ended and country began. It threatened his power.

“No,” Enrikos said. “My goal is a golden age, a Cinyras that is glorious, and for generations to be able to live happily and without worry, to be proud of their country, and for all other countries to Cinyras, to me, and see the center of all finery and elegance of culture. To see the sun, with all else revolving around me and my empire.”

[Russlande]

“Right...” Nukai drew our the single word, pulling away from Enríkos and the throne. He recognized this Enríkos far more than he had the one that care so genuinely for his people. At the heart of his ambitious was his narcissism. Not the petty vanity that one attributed to some simply who admired themselves more than socially deemed acceptable. No. This was true narcissism, the kind that had fuel tyrants and dictators, as well community leaders and philanthropists for centurions, even millennia. It was this belief that he was the greatest, and it was merely the rest of the world that needed to see this.

Nukai stepped away from the throne, his hands once again crossed behind his bavk, towards the edge of the dais, before turning. He had know this. One didn’t have to struggle to imagine that a man who built a massive semi-nude statue of himself hundreds of meters high, in front of a massive palace with a grand hall lined with similar clad statues of himself, was a narcissist. He wished to be seen, Nukai suspected, for the wonder that he was. Respected, saluted, and entirely undisputed as the greatest monarch Cinyras and the world had ever seen. For generations down the line to look back and point to him and say: ‘that was a great King’.

Enríkos, like Cinyras, had so much potential. Young and handsome, modern and unswayed, he was perhaps the living embodiment of Cinyras. Or was Cinyras a nation reflective of the personality of one man imposed upon a nation? It was hard to tell. Nukai found the latter more likely, but for now he decided to pretend that it was the former. Cinyras, like Enríkos could do, wanted to, and with Nukai’s helpful guidance, would do great things. They both, King and Country, merely needed to trust in Nukai. Give their all to him, heed his plans and listen to his voice of honeyed steel, and he would give the world to them. Enríkos needed to understand that.

Nukai moves towards the throne, longer a mere shade, but a dark angel sweeping up to the throne of god. Nukai moves to the other side the Sun Throne, where Enríkos was look, having before refused to look at him. The Russen Chancelloe would make him look at him. He spoke as he moved, all one seamless motion, “and this glorious future of yours, Your Magnificent, will require us to... Nukai gripped the Sun Throne and bent. He pressed his gloved fingers to Enríkos’s chin, gently pulling the king’s face to look up at his own, hovering inches away, as if he were going to kiss the monarch. His touch was gently but firm, forcing their eyes to meet; Enríkos’s cerulean sea Nukai’s melting glaciers.

“...conquer Nysa?”

[Cinyras]

Heat burn though Enríkos’ body, as he looked into Nukai’s eyes. He searched into them, or least he tried to. The King tried to look past the ice, but found himself trapped in an crumbling arctic landscape. A world of cracking ice falling into the sea. Was this his desire? To conquer Nysa and turn it into his empire? Was that Enríkos or Nukai’s wishes. Did it matter? Nysa was the weakest of the regions, and Cinyras already had its involvement set there. His plan had been a United Nysa. Why should he not create it? A new empire straddling most the East and West, land of the setting and rising sun.

“Yes,” Enríkos said almost breathlessly. He leaned into Nukai’s touch. Nukai was dangerous and had a knack for poisons, but Enríkos couldn’t resist the thrill of being close to him, like petting a tiger. There was a certain power to it. Enríkos only barely managed to stop himself from kissing the grand duke. No matter how much he was fascinated by Nukai, he preferred being alive, and Enríkos had found that kissing Nukai more often than not it lead to death. He gripped the Sun Throne, anchoring himself down as not to let his body respond as it might have had this been anyone else. But he didn’t pull away. He felt like he couldn’t, he didn’t even want to.

He felt mesmerized by Nukai. Like one watching a natural disaster destroy a city, left in awe by the sheer power and horror of it, unable to look away. “Yes,” Enríkos repeated, “I must.” He must hold Nysa in his hands under his command, and then he could turn his attention elsewhere. To the rest of the world. With Nysa defused as a threat, Cinyras would have a secure line of agricultural products and a population to draw from for work, higher education and skill for cultural and technological advances. It was not impossible, but Cinyras was small. They would have to be David to Nysa’s Goliath. Enríkos had played the role of David before.

It would be Nukai who would serve as his stones. “How?”

[Russlande]

Nukai pulled away from Enríkos slowly, rubbing his finger along the length of the Cinyroite king’s jawline lovingly as a chuckle blossomed in his throat. He stepped back, away from the Sun Throne, his head bowed as he did so. He pressed his hands back into the downward facing diamond of an advisor, looking at the king through his eyelashes. This was good. Enríkos wanted Nysa and he was a man known for getting want he wanted. It was always best that their interests be aligned, all the better for Nukai to serve the King of Cinyras of course. After all, Nukai’s only desires were Enríkos’ desires. They were one and the same. Always.

“The key to your wishes lay in Cäsaria,” Nukai said. Nukai rarely spoke of Cäsaria, the mysterious secret world that his mother and stepmother had created. It was a place shrouded in rumor, and sealed off from the rest of the galaxy. Nukai and a select few others were the only ones who knew much about the place. To the rest of the world it was merely a footnote in the tale of Empress Charlotte’s oh so tragic descent into madness and suicide. A very carefully crafted and executed tale. Nukai had destroyed almost all evidence of the place, and Anna Charlotte and her massive star fleets had ensured that no one could venture to the place.

But while Cäsaria was little known, it was greatly important. There was of course a reason it was hidden away. It was a Dark World. Enríkos knew nothing of it, and he didn’t need to. That was for Nukai to concern himself with. “Once the project there is complete, Your Magnificence, you will have all the power of the world. You will be unstoppable. And your reign shall stretch over all of humanity and the stars.” Nukai paused. “But such projects take time. We must practice patience. First he have to deal with something in Nysa.” Nukai had carefully prepared this part of the plan, of this presentation. This was the piece of the plan that Enríkos needed to know, that hein truth already knew. Nukai’s plans always adapted after all.

He turned around, his black robes swishing across the dais as he looked down the great hall, the smile disappearing from his face as it was hidden from Enríkos. In truth this was the second draft of his plan. His first had been far different. Far tricker, and had not included Enríkos. But this time he found that he could reap just as much reward, even more perhaps, with less effort. He needed only the help from Cinyras and everyone would win. Well. Almost everyone. There would be one poor unfortunate soul to bear the brunt of the suffering. That was life. There was always someone suffering. At this they wouldn’t do so for long. “Your Magnificence, it is time we turn our attention to Aravea.”

[Cinyras]

An icy grip closed around Enríkos’ heart. Without thinking he straightened in his throne, pressing his blond locks to the gold thread cushion of the back of the royal seat. He had not been expecting that. He thought Nukai would have discussed Garianlles and their recent insubordination in regards to TCG. But it made since that Aravea would be in his mind. It had recently been on Enríkos’. But surely... not for the same reason. It was not possible. Enríkos had not spoke to anyone about it. And yet he had a dreadful feeling that Nukai knew. Could it be that the Russen chancellor was spying on him? A worrying thought.

“What interest would have us look to Aravea?”

Enríkos tried not to sound worried. He didn’t like the idea of Nukai spying on him. Enríkos had no fear of being watched, he rather enjoyed it, and was certain that his audiences always enjoyed it as well. But that didn’t mean he didn’t wish to know who his audience was. He could imagine the grand duke having some sort of secret network. No doubt the work of that brother of his, J.J. Aurelians and Cercle. Enríkos would have to have the Pavilion of Hesperos swept for any hint of espionage. Nukai might be one to do nothing to harm Enríkos with any information that he collected, but the King felt he should control what he let the grand duke know.

[Russlande]

Of course Nukai was spying on Enríkos. Nukai spied on most governments of the world. Nukai had eyes and ears on every continent and on a great deal of planets. Both human and inhuman. But Nukai had turned his attention to Aravea long before he had spied on Cinyras in this particular regard. He’d come to recognize the roadblock it could serve as when it had made a treaty between Polonge and Vozh, of much great inconvenience to Nukai. The tension there had been just about rip for exploiting, the gentle giant of Polonge ready to be turned into a beast of interest. But now a cold co-existence has fallen over the littlest continent.

So Nukai had had to switch his views on Nysa. Conquest through peace. And then there had been a great change, not in Nysa, but not two far away. What he had thought another delay and inconvenience could now serve as a most useful move in this murky game of geopolitics. It had been as if the starts had aligned, all at this most opportune time. Now was the time to act. And the rest of the world need never have realized what was happening. Nukai had learned that was true success in manipulation from behind the scenes, when history play out so perfect that one would never guest that it was moving at the command of a puppet master.

“A great many things, Your Magnificence,” Nukai said to the great hall, keeping his back to the King of Cinyras. He waved his hand, as if he were merely discussing various items one could pick up from the store. “They are, at the moment the most powerful country in Nysa. Vozh and Estoca, whether they know it or now, their their arms, set to embrace all of their neighbors. And at the moment their interests are not aligned with your glorious vision. It is thus important that we... correct this alignment.” Nukai finally turned back to face Enríkos, his face still grim and serious. “There is a most beautiful fixture at Aravean court. With it, we shall tend to further corrections.”

[Cinyras]

Enríkos tilted his head. He felt like Nukai was again talking in circles. He was struggling to follow exactly what it was that he meant. Did he want him to.. to what, invade Aravea? No. It didn’t seem that way. But he had said they would conquer Nysa. But Cinyras simply couldn’t fight a conventional war with Aravea. So perhaps he meant for him to make a surgical operations of things, as he had done in Garianlles and Makonia. And yet again no, that didn’t seem to be Nukai’s intention. Which left only another option, one simply and yet vital distinction between this third and second options available. So Nukai had to have known.

“Further corrections?”

It came out more confused than Enríkos would have wished. Though that was a more accurate representation of how he felt. What did this further corrections statement refer to? To affairs in Nysa? Or just in Aravea? Or perhaps in the entirely opposite direction and in reference to the wider arena of world affairs? And how exactly did Nukai intend for them to fix these misalignments? It was times like these that Nukai made Enríkos worry in a lesser threat but more confused manner. In his intentions politically. The path that he would take seem to change with each nation that he interacted with and Enríkos was never sure how it might end up.

But did it matter? Enríkos knew better than anyone that one could take many different paths to get someone in bed. Some women preference to be whisked away on a cloud of romance and love. Others were more straightforward. Some preferred a rougher path. The same was true for men, and Enríkos supposed that in a way, the same was true for nations in the grand scheme of things. Some countries are better lulled into bed with allies whilst others had to forced into the hegemony of a more powerful nation. It made Enríkos wonder, what was it it, objectively, that Nukai would do with Aravea? Or even his own kingdom?

[Russlande]

Nukai bowed his head to the King. “Do not concern yourself with such matters.” He saw no reason to clarify what it was he meant by further corrections. Enríkos did not need to know. He needed to only act in his part of the plan that Nukai had laid out. Deal with Aravea, and Nukai would deal with what the fixture that truly interested him there. Nukai would take care of everything. Enríkos needed only to sit there on his Sun Throne and let him and his Cinyroite soldiers handle the rest. If Nukai had to reassure him of this, he would, but he hoped that he wouldn’t have to. He’d had to deal with so many inconveniences, he did not need another.

“I shall handle the place.” Nukai turned away from the King and descended the dais slowly, swaying slightly as he took each step. He crossed his hands behind his his back, his eyes drifting upwards, gazing towards the glided and glimmering walls of the great all of his sun dedicated to the sun. In his mind he was somewhere else, drafting plans in how he should proceed with his mission. It would be quite the role to play. It was like fixing together pieces of a puzzle the picture ever so slowly coming together in his head. Yes. This could prove to be a very rewarding mission. He simply had to hope that it went accordingly.

Perhaps it would be best if he made sure of that. He looked over his shoulder at the King of Cinyras, a devilish smirk on his lips. He didn’t mind letting Enríkos know that there was nothing that stayed a secret from him for long. “Your Magnificence, I suggest you accept your Aravean Candidate.”

[Cinyras]

“How—” Enríkos’ words died in his throat. He was going to ask how Nukai about his... Aravean Candidate as he had put it. But then again he already knew how. The thousand eyes of the Russen Chancellor. Enríkos shifted back in his throne, propping his right leg back up on the armrest, leaning back. He had decided that he didn’t mind even if Nukai knew of his own plans with Aravea. They, their plans in regards to the large Nysaian nation seemed already to be one and the same, so it did not matter. He could continue his plan with all the more benefits. It only served to make it easier for Nukai to help him build his empire.

Enríkos tilted his head in the other direction and let his eyes roll up and down Nukai’s black clad form. Why on earth did he wear those robes? They certainly were not as flattering as they could be. Men of the cloth would always seem strange to him. Enríkos’s eyes further drifted. He was growing bored of all this talk of politics and plots and all this other nonsense about conquests of continents. He was going to have to find something to entertain himself once the grand duke left—the chancellor knew very well how to have a good time, but he never seem to—he was such a dreadful bore.

“Very well,” Enríkos said with a finger curling around a lock of his blond hair. He sighed. He suddenly had a brilliant thought. Once this matter was handled in Aravea, he would be able to hold a magnificent party to celebrate. He would probably get those aero-acrobats from Christianós’ triumph. They had done so well. Enríkos thought started to further drift into the ideas of planning a party, all talk of this leaving his mind. “Nukai. You and I must learn to have a bit of fun. Stéphanie is holding a marvelous party soon, something to honor another one of my godsons, I do hope that you will join us.”

[Russlande]

Nukai turned away from Enrikos, rolling his eyes. “As you wish, Your Magnificence.” Nukai said. A party in Racraigua could be of much use to him. Such parties and celebrations, whether one liked it or not were the secret turning tables of the world’s monarchies. And Nukai loved to be the one to decide in which direction they turned. He prepared to leave. He should have expected to hold the King of Cinyras’ attention for only so long before he began thinking of other matters. That was well enough, Nukai had his own matters to consider and stage and players to set in place. This was only the prelude to the true game.

Nukai started to walk away when he thought of one last thing. He had to make sure that events played out precisely as he needed to. It would be best for his own hand to guide things. He had a great way for all of the pieces to fit together in the optimized way for advantage and he could personally limit the natural disadvantages of the plan. Nukai slowly turned to the King of Cinyras, raising a single finger. Nukai thought of the team of Cinyroites who had intervened in Kegara during the Eacusian War and brought the country to its knees. They would do nicely in this situation. “I suggest you send your Orchids.”

Nukai turned away, waving his hand in a form saying goodbye. He walked down the length of the great hall. It was time for him to depart. He would leave Enríkos to go back to indulging in his lifestyle that could only be afforded to a man born to be a monarch. Such leisure was not made for Nukai. Life came in many different shapes and forms. Nukai had learned to dictate the course of his own life, rather than being simply on autopilot like Enríkos, and that meant that things were in constant change. Ever changing, ever adapting. That was how one learned to be triumphant in all things. Victory was in his blood. He would be be victorious. “I shall handle the rest.”

[Cinyras]

Enríkos eyes fluttered with delight at the mention of his Orchids, the nickname for his team of special force royal mercenaries, soldiers who swore their ultimate loyalty to him but who he regularly has serve as guns for hire for a variety of clients. Enríkos was hands off in regards to the missions that the Orchids took, though he was personally friends with the men and women who made up the paramilitary company. As long as their job didn’t hurt Cinyras, who was he to discriminate?

Nukai and the Orchids would get along well, Enríkos was sure of that. As the Russen Chancellor left the great hall, the king called for his guards to return. It was only a moment later, the dark shadow of Nukai having left the great hall that the Pavilion of Hesperos was once again filled with life and light, as the Cinyroite royals too began to enter. Among them, Enríkos spotted his majordomo, Magenta, standing out against the crowd in one of his signature pink outfits. Enríkos always did love to see him in pink, it very much suited him.

The King gestured for Magenta to approach the throne, which the count did so swiftly and with a sort of grace that only he managed to maintain even under the weight of dealing with the King of Cinyras. “Magenta,” said the King in a low tone so that only he could hear, “Go get Pannikos Rokotis. They have a mission with our Russen friend to attend to.” Magenta’s eyes widen, whilst the King’s drifted towards the crowd, searching the crowd. The count bowed his head reverently.

“Yes Your Magnificence.”

Enríkos barely noticed the count as he scampered away. He let out a soft sigh as he noticed that the titled address didn’t sound the same on Magenta’s lips as it did Nukai’s. It lacked that deep, soothing edge to it that made his body light up. Enríkos pouted his lips. Damn that Russen. Must he be so enigmatic? Enríkos meet eyes with one of the noblemen, shuffling about amongst the nobles, a tall and tanned specimen. Enríkos smiled, and waved the young man over to him. With a moment of hesitation where he pointed himself confused, he then ascended the dais.

“What’s your name?” Inquired the King, letting his eyes roll over the form of the noble. Unlike Nukai, he was not draped in robes, but wore only thin Riessan blue silk pants and a brocaded vest that showed off the finely sculpted muscles of his torso. A gold colored sash was tied around his hips, gold bands with the simple of a leopard on his forearms matching the choker collar on around his throat. He had eyes like a paler version of Christianós’ gold ones and the same dark curly hair. Tall, strong, but not sharp as a razor. Enríkos like him.

“Vissarian de Quinte,” the noble said. de Quinte. A descendant of one of Enríkos’ grandfather’s chief ministers perhaps. He couldn’t have been more than nineteen or so. “Your, Magnificence,” the noble, Vissarian, added. Enríkos’s smile only grew. It was not quite the same Nukai’s voice, but it pleased the king.

“Say that again.”

“Vis—”

“No, just the last part.”

Vissarian‘s lips form a small O as he was cut off. He paused, as if confused, clearly nervous. “Your Magnificence.”

Enríkos tossed his head back letting the words roll over in his head. He was magnificent, wasn’t he. It was always good to hear it said so. Especially in a beautiful voice from an equally beautiful young man. Enríkos as easily as flipping a switch, looped a hand around Vissarian’s waist and pulled him down into his lap, the young noble let out a small squeak in surprise as the king held him close, devoting him with his eyes. A wave of heat from a mixture of fear and excitement sent blood rushing up to Vissarian’s face and downwards... elsewhere. All around the great hall the nobles watched with fascination and envy.

“Say it again.” Enríkos commanded. Vissarian’s did so without hesitation this time. He would say it as many times as Enríkos wished. The King placed a palm against Vissarian’s bare abdomen and slide it upwards to his chest. “I think I am going to add you to the list.”

Vissarian’s handsome face, turned red with a twisted ball of embarrassment and desire, twisted further as innocent confusion entered the mix. “Your list?”

Enríkos nodded, leaning ever closer. “Yes,” Enríkos pressed his lips to Vissarian’s flat, well defined stomach, sending shiver up and down the noble’s body. “Of things I am going to conquer.” Enríkos moved up higher and kissed. “Makonia.” High he rose, leaving a trail of kisses on Vissarian. “Kegara.” Enrikos reached Vissarian’s chest and pushed his vest askew so it hung on his arms. He bit down gently on the noble’s left nipple, causing a breathy gasp to escape Vissarian. “Atmora.” Enríkos did the same to the right, with similar effects. “Derita.” Vissarian tried and failed to let out a moan as Enrikos half kissed and half bit one side of his neck, gripping the noble’s dark curls to pull his head back. “Aravea.” Enríkos kissed the other side of his neck. “you, Vissarian.”

Enríkos pressed his lips to Vissarian, kissing him deeply, lustfully, like a lioness descend upon a wildebeest that had not been fast enough. He pulled away, Vissarian left dazed, though clearly enjoying himself if the thing pressing against Enríkos’s side was any indication. Enríkos held his head in his grip by his hair and looking into Vissarian’s eyes, which glittered like washed drachmas, forming a mirror that the king admired himself in. “And the world.”