Date: July 11, 2000 (Aether: October 7, 3906)
Place: Courtyard, Throne Room - Atesh-Gah - Haven
Cast: Amipal, Cassius, Claudius, Khalid, Niamh, Sabirah, Thalia, Versus
Scene: A delegate of Empyreans seeks an audience with the God-King, in order to learn more about his intentions toward Arelate, now known as the independent mongrel nation of Avalon.

Courtyard - Atesh-Gah - Haven:
      If indeed the Hebrew folk of lost Earth are correct in their legends, then this must be the legendary garden from which mankind was expelled. The flat expanse of the great courtyard of Atesh-Gah is covered in the most luxurious grass of bright emerald green, broken only by a cobblestone path for riding and walking to prevent wear upon the lawn. Rich copses of carefully tended wood grow by the walls, lovingly groomed flower gardens acting as a barrier of color before the rising trees.
      Perhaps even more relaxing than the sight of the yard are the sensations of it. The lovely scents of flower and tree; honey-suckle, apple blossom, peach, and jasmine; combine with the soft cushion of green grass to provide a sense of peace and harmony that defies the looming sand-hued walls of unbreakable stone. Not even the shadowed maw of the main gate, nor the blocky, unimpressive presence of the impenetrable main keep can overshadow the beauty of this place. Indeed, the stark contrast serves only to enhance it.

As missives have flown between the embassies of the Varati and the Empyreans like birds taking flight in fear, it is unsurprising that the fair form of the Varati Queen-Maharani awaits the arrival of the members of her birth race. Like the rumors which have blown before the winds of war, missives are but a prelude to the true speech which will come this day.

Below the archway of Atesh-Gah's maw, Thalia's alabaster skin shines like foxfire as she stands entrenched between the Agni-Haidar which never leave her side. The white gem caught in the hard obsidian rock, the apex of the stairs only serves to draw the eye to her and her full white wings. The path directly to the Queen-Maharani is open, lined on both sides with Agni-Haidar, even as others stand guard at the walls and at intervals across the courtyard. Still, like the rock to which they are often compared, the tableau is only disturbed by the errant wind which whisks by, tugging at clothing and hair.

Empyreans in flight can be an impressive sight. Especially when they fly in precise, military formation, decked out in armor that gleams in the muted light of an overcast sky, their purple chlamydes a bright swathe against the heavens. There are twenty in all of the elite guard -- twenty to accompany a mere two into the Varati embassy. And as the contingent circles and soars down into Atesh-Gah's courtyard, the Schola maintain their positions around their charges at all times.

Cassius lands neatly with a flurry of silver-white wings, then folds his plumage against his back and smooths his hair and clothing; it wouldn't do to look rumpled and slovenly before the Varati King and Queen. He is finely dressed in a tunic and toga, the broad, purple 'clavus' dyed into his garb signifying his status as a member of the Aegis. In addition, the royal-blue and silver colors of Augustus adorn the hem and cuffs of his tunic, and in his finery, he is hardly recognizable as the lowly naraki kafir that served here for nearly three months after the war. His expression is impassive, and if the sight of the embassy brings back unpleasant memories, he does not show it.

Claudius arrives at the side of Cassius, his silver wings flaring wide as he comes to an abrupt, precise stop. There's no sound as he touches down in a formal military Legate's toga. His expression could be carved from marble, or formed from air, for all the emotion that is present in it. His steel-grey eyes look around the place carefully, noting every nuance, every guard and patch of shade. He has been here before, that much is clear.

Twenty? Or are the eyes deceiving? Some two hundred meters behind the first cohors of the elite Schola guard is another, although the latter does not fly into the courtyard. Instead, as the Empyrean contingent enters deep into the Varati heart, the second purple cohors, with their royal chlamydes flapping over their wings, disperses into the air like a show of fireworks.

Each soldier finds its own place in the sky, making a floating bridge between Atesh-Gah and the Eyrie... although distance separates all warriors. They can communicate with gestures though, and send a signal back home in an instant for reinforcements to arrive, should a devastating air strike be needed here. The first cohors, however, lands in perfect formation around the Aegian and the Legate, placing their spears on the ground, and their eyes on the Varati.

On home ground, the Agni-Haidar merely keep a watchful eye on the Schola from their posts. As the cohor lands about Cassius and Claudius, one Agni-Haidar separates himself from the rest to approach the delegates. Politely, the man proclaims, "Deus, Legate, Schola, turn over your weapons." There is a slight pause, then the Agni-Haidar adds, "Please."

Cassius's pale blue eyes switch to the Agni-Haidar that approaches, then toward the Schola flanking him and Claudius on either side. He inclines his head marginally, although it would be the Optio in charge to officially give the order for the guards to relinquish their weapons.

Claudius raises an eyebrow at this. The Varati speak no greeting or introduction, but rather make a request for the Empyreans to disarm. Interesting, he thinks, and very telling. At Cassius' simple assent, his other eyebrow quirks momentarily, before his face returns to its previous state. As he is simply here in an advisory capacity, he awaits Versus' actions with some interest.

Statuesque and efficiently military, the Praetorian Schola are an incredible sight indeed, although their Imperial armors clash with the Varati surroundings of the Atesh-Gah, giving them a more distinctive look. They are led by Versus, an Optio of visible noble line, given his manners and features that somehow bear some resemblance to those of Cassius. All duty, the Praetor scans the courtyard with an icy, cold stare, showing no emotion apparent on his face, other than a blank, professional emptiness, unsettling in its disregard for life. He will leave here with Cassius, or not leave at all.

With a practiced gesture of his left hand, Versus signals to his cohors something that only they can understand, although none of them move an inch. Slowly, he checks if the flyers over Haven have a good view of the party below, and looks ahead once again... fixing his eyes momentarily on the Queen Maharani, so familiar to him from the day in the arena, and so remembered for the treatment of his House.

He does not reply to the Agni-Haidar, but instead, glancing quickly at the Aegian and seeing an unspoken order, Versus gives another signal to his men, and ten of them fall back, indicating that they will stay armed, but will not follow the party inside. The remaining ten, including Versus, hand their weapons over, but make no verbal contact with the Varati... marking their discipline as flawless.

Claudius' eyes flicker momentarily, too quickly for the emotion to truly register. It could have been amusement. Claudius removes his own heavy gladius and the two throwing knives he keeps on his forearms. The reverence he shows for his weapons, especially the sword, is near mystical in its quality. He wraps a white cloth completely around his sword before handing it over.

Even as the weapons are turned over, the Agni-Haidar gives the Schola a searching look. Yet, reverence is given the items as they are handed in turn to another Agni-Haidar, especially, the wrapped set from the Legate. Discreetly, one Agni-Haidar near the door detaches himself, disappearing inside Atesh-Gah, his errand unknown.

Only after the Agni-Haidar has withdrawn does Thalia sing out across the courtyard, "I bid you welcome to Atesh-Gah, fellow Empyreans. Please, Deus Augustin, Legate Areides, my husband eagerly awaits to speak with you. Come with me inside where we shall engage in civil discourse which will beneficial to both our nations." With that, she turns into the darkness of the building and disappears.

Cassius will save his greeting for later. Without comment, he starts up the steps of the embassy after the Queen and her black-clad, hulking retinue.

Claudius follows.

Thalia ascends the stairs to Atesh-Gah's sturdy double doors, allowed past by the ever-present Agni-Haidar.

Throne Room - Atesh-Gah - Haven:
      This massive rectangular area seem to rise forever; white polished marble catching the light that enters through the spacious windows on either side of the room and reflecting it throughout to dispel all shadow or gloom. The walls themselves are a work of art; the top half being the aforementioned stone, broken at mid-point by a border lovingly carved into an intricate design. Housed within the near foot-wide space is a pattern of interwoven bands of gold. The bottom half of the wall is sky-blue marble shot through with graceful swirls of cloudy white, once again giving way to pale marble for the few inches nearest the floor. Sturdy seats of golden-varnished wood, covered in cushions and upholstery of shimmering royal blue, are placed in orderly fashion at the sides of the room. Those who await the God-King's attention may rest as he attends matters of state.
      Dwarfing all is the raised dais of solid marble, upon which looms two thrones: one for the God-King and the other for his Queen. A testimony to the art and craft of the Varati people, the thrones practically shimmer in the resplendent light of the chamber; the God-King's is upholstered in royal blue while the Queen's is a vibrant red, both solidly constructed of the same marble that forms the room. A delicate filigree of gold offsets the satiny-hued cloth. Almost like an afterthought, to the right of the dias is a wooden throne, similar in design and upholstered in blue.
      There are two doorways in the room; the first, at the furthest end of the hall from the throne, leads to the foyer. The second is to the left of the dais.

Claudius and Versus enter from the foyer, the doors closing silently behind.

Even in the fullness of day with the sun beating down upon the floor from a massive window above, shadows lurk near the walls and behind pillars -- untouched by the warmth of Ashur Masad. In these dark places, the sentinel warriors of the God-King stand, shadows within shadows. This ring of darkness frames the sunlight thrones at its center, both now empty.

Amipal enters from the foyer, the doors closing silently behind.

Cassius and Claudius enter the throne room, flanked by ten unarmed Schola who, despite their lack of weapons, still manage to look impressive with their polished armor, lustrous purple capes, and broad white wings.

The Deus of Augustus wears the finery that his office and position warrants, and hardly resembles the same man who left here over two years ago, after serving his time as a naraki slave. Maybe it takes a singular brand of courage to be able to walk in here again -- to face the God-King who judged him once and found him lacking. Maybe there's a minute falter to Cassius's tread, and a fleeting lapse in his rich, orator's voice as he halts a good distance from the throne, bows deeply, and greets, "Ave-namaste, Amir-al." He doesn't opt for either the traditional Empyreal or Varati greeting, but instead uses both.

The warriors of Khalid must have already been informed that the sky over Haven is dotted with Praetorian Schola guards, making a sky bridge to the Eyrie, to call for an air strike, should harm come to the party inside the embassy. How Versus will be able to contact them, however, remains a mystery, and judging by the stone face of the Optio, it will not be voluntarily revealed.

The ten Schola that accompany Cassius and Claudius are an impressive sight indeed, however. Disciplined to perfection, they bristle with deadly practicality, although all have been disarmed at the gate. They keep a protective formation around the Aegian and the Legate, making it necessary to go through them in order to approach the Empyre's greats. Cold eyes scan the interior of the massive throne room, showing no regard for any life other than a winged one.

Claudius follows Cassius closely, with a steady and sure step. His eyes sweep over the room and its inhabitants, resting equally on the guards within the shadows as upon the God-King himself. He seems as at ease around Varati as me does in the gardens of the Palladium.

Just before the Empyreans arrives, the double doors of the Throne Room open to admit the Queen-Maharani. She proceeds down the length of the room before Cassius and Claudius, though a good distance separates her from the other Empyreans as they appear. She strides briskly and ascends the dais to her appointed seat beside the God-King.

Already in the chambers when the procession of Empyreans arrive, the Estrel bin Mazat stands at the fringes of the court. Indeed, he was murmuring to one of the nearby Atarvani until the others entered, his attention moving to watch them now.

"And why.." begins a voice born of nowhere, yet assails the supplicants from everywhere. Its tones ring like the striking of steel upon steel -- sharp, cruel, ominous, "Does House Augustus seek audience with me?" One shadow among the myriad of those at the chamber's edge stirs, threatening to step into the light. Twin flames easily mistaken for the light of candles now flare and move with the shadow -- the eyes of the God of Fire, watching.

Dark-rimmed eyes flecked with copper watch the arrival of the Empyrean contingent in silence. The attention that had been given to her fellow Atarvani is now directed to those winged beings, and then to the echoing voice of her God and King. Sabirah straightens her shoulders and lifts her chin slightly as Khalid's voice blankets the throne room, but her gaze remains fixed on the Empyreans who have come before him.

Cassius realized a little too late that Khalid Atar was not on his throne, although how he could have overlooked his absence is anyone's guess. Perhaps he was staring at the floor when he bowed, and not the throne. As that voice stirs from the darkness, the Aegian straightens, and his own all-too-human eyes search the shadows near its source. "I am here as a representative of the Empyre, Amir-al -- not House Augustus. I am here to speak with you regarding the province of Arelate, now Avalon, and about the... disturbances in your kingdom of which we have heard rumors." His tone is even and unfailingly courteous, and whatever lapse or discomfort he had suffered upon first entering is now submerged.

Claudius remains verbally silent, for the moment, though his posture might speak volumes to some. He still maintains the same formal posture he took upon his arrival here.

Thalia asks, her soprano light and sweet in direct contrast to the dark clang which has assaulted the ears, "Which of these rumors concerns you most, Aegian? And, pray, tell me the Empyre's concerns regarding Avalon. It would appear that we are of equal minds in this, as I had thought to speak with the Emperor on this matter. Your coming has saved an unnecessary trip outside the confines of Atesh-Gah." Her admission bestows a gentle camaraderie, as if she were an ally and a friend rather than the traitor that all Empyreans consider her.

Monstrous in form and size, the shadow belonging to the burning gaze stirs again. Its cruel semblance shifts strangely, alien -- a nether reflection of the God's true form. It approaches, stalking the delegation, but when it reaches the barrier of light... only the Varati likeness of the God steps forth. Eyes that once burned with immortal fury have been quenched by crystal blue. The monstrous shape that lurked in shadow gives birth to one of mortal likeness, perfect in form and grace. He steps forward slowly, time no burden to him. "Does the Empyre come asking for clarification of rumors?"

Cassius's gaze goes to Thalia, then to the immortal God-King, but the latter does not hold his gaze for long. It hurts to look too long at the face of the sun, and while Khalid Atar does not blaze with a surrounding halo of fire as he has been known to do before, the Aegian still does not meet that crystal-blue stare for any length of time. His eyes go fleetingly to Claudius at his side, but no words are spoken between them. And finally, it is Thalia that Cassius addresses. "We have heard that one of your caravans was attacked, and that the Shakir of Clan Khalida has gone... missing." He pauses then, awaiting confirmation from either the God-King or his Queen.

This is the infamous king of the Varati? Versus was surely expecting a raging barbarian, half-dressed in hide and full of the bloodthirsty thoughts of someone who has never seen a book. Instead, the creature before him is a much less amusing fire-being of unpleasantly dark looks and a visible flair for the melodramatic. So much for the rumors. Glancing upon the God-King, the Schola Optio examines him the way one would examine a non-sentient target, seeking vulnerable spots to attack. Wishful thinking indeed. For now, however, he must remain vigilant, and no matter how annoyed he may be at the earthly surroundings, this meeting must proceed in peace. The guards around Cassius wave their pristine white wings with a casual flair, making sharp contrasts between this group of angels and the imposing surroundings of Atesh-Gah.

Thalia leans back on her throne and puts up one hand to cup her chin in a thoughtful manner. "These rumors are true. I will not deny that our beloved Lioness of Khalida has been taken captive. Even now, her faithful husband seeks her freedom. As you can see, he is not here." The same hand gestures over the denizens of the throne room before returning to cup her chin a second time. "Yet, this is a matter which need not concern the Empyre or Avalon. How do you link these rumors with that fledgling nation?"

Friend, ally, traitor. Claudius Areides does not see these as sharply defined states of being, but rather as fuzzy points along a non-linear continuum. The Legate has only ever known one person to be so far above reproach that he would trust her unconditionally ... and she is dead.

The God-King strides from the shadows still, the sapphires of his eyes browsing the faces of the delegation from beneath brows stern and brooding. He approaches the dais, mounting each step with timeless grace of movement. When at last he reaches the marble throne, he settles into it languidly -- arms stretched out upon its rests, hands draped over its edges almost lazily. His chin remains lowered, looking down upon those that have come before him.

The priestess' eyes settle on the one called the Aegian for a long period of time. Even when the soft voice of the Maharani speaks in answer, Sabirah's eyes do not leave the figure of Cassius. Those dark pools narrow ever so slightly, as if searching for something in this man's appearance, but aside from the movement of her eyes, her expression betrays nothing else. With her hands folded in front of her and the length of her robe covering the rest of her body, she appears a silent pillar of crimson in the throne room.

Amipal slips in quietly, unobtrusively, at the rear of the great hall. Alone and unannounced, he is not a figure likely to detract attention from the luminaries here assembled; to the Lions of Fire arrayed about the marble expanse, however, his arrival seems to carry a certain significance. Starless eyes narrow slightly as the man surveys the scene, not stopping in his progress along the wall and towards the distant dais. One finger moves between guardsmen and visitors in an elaborate dance of instruction; crossbow men nod as he passes, lifting their loaded weapons and training them upon the armored Schola encircling the Empyrean ambassador.

"Speculation, Maharani," Cassius answers. "One of your caravans is attacked, the Shakir of Khalida is kidnaped... and we receive news of Varati armies marching into Avalon. Do you believe that the Shakir is being held there? The Empyre is... concerned." His gaze shifts to Khalid as the God-King mounts the throne, and Cassius's pale wings shift against his back -- the only indication of any agitation or discomfort at being here, in the presence of the ruler who once made him a slave. "We would like to know your intentions toward the land that was once called Arelate."

Attacked seems to be a mild word in the Estrel's mind... he was there. More like attempted massacre. Luckily, the attackers weren't bright enough to realize that they were attacking a religious entourage... which included many magic-wielding Atarvani, as well as Akhund and Agni-Haidar. As he listens to the Amir-Al's words, Niamh turns once more to the Empyrean group, wondering what connection they will draw between the recent events of the attack and abduction and the land that is Avalon. As some of this is made clear, he almost smiles to himself. Bet they want the land for themselves.

Versus does not even flinch as the crossbows are raised. Could he have been expecting that, too? Instead, he glances at the distance between him and Cassius, checking the position of the other soldiers of the Empyre, but most likely finding them to his satisfaction. Perhaps he truly does have a plan, with all the Praetorians in the sky today. That's the only possibility, as being so vastly outnumbered on enemy territory would make any longer resistance futile. But the pride of the Schola remains, as does their unsettlingly dispassionate manner of superiority and deadly practicality. The Augustin Optio fixes his crystal blue eyes on Thalia, seeing her on the throne of his enemies who have taken the lives of his comrades in battle. An ironic position, no doubt. And a very symbolic one. One that will not be forgotten.

Thalia's thoughtful mien breaks as a benevolent smile curves her lips. The hand which cupped her chin leaves to touch the arm of the God-King as he settles onto his throne before she answers Cassius and gives him the reason behind her smile. "The Varati wish for Avalon to become an independent country, as we did at the end of the latest altercation between our nations. Our stance has not changed." She inclines her head. "Your concern for our beloved Shakir is gratifying. Tell me, how does the Empyre intend to show its concern for these trials and tribulations which plague the Varati?"

The severe, cruel features of the God watch the supplicants parlay as if pieces in some immortal game. Content to allow the Maharani to handle the issues of foreign affairs, Khalid relaxes in a throne ill-suited for such.

Cassius's expression does not change; he looks neither amiable nor unfriendly, just serious. "I am curious, Maharani, as to how Varati troops in Avalon can assist it in becoming a sovereign nation. Did not..." He pauses, and glances over toward Versus, gesturing the Schola over. "One moment," he asks.

Without as much as a word, Versus turns his head towards Cassius... his flowing military grace putting him in motion. As he approaches the Aegian, another Schola shifts in his position, to fill for the momentary void in ranks. Wings are raised, to provide obstruction in view of the two Empyrean greats in the middle of the military entourage... should someone decide to take a shot.

Approaching Cassius, the Schola unbuckles a scroll-case from his belt and gives it to the Aegian with a unique blend of soldierly verve and deep respect. Not wishing to salute in the presence of other races, Versus nods curtly and takes the few marching steps back to his position. During all that, the expression on his face does not change, and the Empyrean soldiers resume their ranks and lower their wings... freezing in another statuesque pause.

If Claudius was taken by surprise in this maneuver, he does not show it. His thoughts are his own throughout this entire affair.

"Did not..." Cassius begins again, as he accepts the scroll-case from Versus, slips the parchment out, and unrolls it, hurriedly scanning the lines of script. "Yes," he murmurs, starting to read aloud, "Did not the treaty say that, 'The province of Arelate shall become an independent kingdom, governed by its own laws and its own people, inhabited by any man, woman, or child who wishes a peaceful start to a new life...'" He scans further, and quotes, "'All Empyreal forces will immediately withdraw from the province, as will Varati military forces depart when the new government requests it of them.'" He looks up. "The war ended well over two years ago, and so we are curious as to why the Varati have decided to return their forces to Avalon." As for the Shakir, he seems willing to let that subject wait a little longer.

The air around the God-King begins to shimmer strangely as tendrils of heat escape ceilingward, baked by immortal fury only newly stirred. Flecks of fire jet across the blue of his gaze as a voice thunders, cleaving the air between he and Cassius, "There are no warriors in Avalon."

Claudius' eyebrows go up at the obvious loophole in the treaty, and he quietly awaits to see if the Varati give one of the two answers he expects of them.

Amipal takes up his customary position to one side of the Varati Queen's throne, relieving the soldier stationed there. He turns to face the Empyrean entourage, hands clasped behind his back, gazing serenely down at the winged people and their pleasantly officious maneuvers.

Cassius's attention is wrested from Thalia at Khalid's voice, and he turns his pale gaze upon the God-King's furious visage. Somehow, he has the temerity to answer, "With all due respect, Amir-al, I would like to allow my companion to comment on that statement." He glances at Claudius and makes a small gesture, bidding the man to say a few words.

"No..." lashes the God-King, "...he may not."

Thalia runs her hand over the back of Khalid's arm, as if in a calming and comforting gesture. "I have not sent troops to Avalon and, as I have spent the greater part of two years attempting to finalize a treaty with the nation, though they, as yet, have not provided me with a government upon which to do so, I cannot state, for a fact, that the government of Avalon has ever asked me to remove troops from its territory. While the Varati wish for Avalon to become a nation, it would appear that the mongrels have, to date, been unable to set up a government with which to rule. If you have had greater success in determining the rulers of Avalon, then I would be greatly interested. I would not wish my labors in terms of a treaty with them to be in vain."

Claudius nods, and looks to Cassius, then to the visage of Khalid. He hears the words that he not speak, and shrugs fluidly, with his wings as much as with his shoulders. At Thalia's words, he makes a mental tally ... exactly the answer he'd seen coming when he first read the treaty.

The King and the Queen examined, Versus once again -- for the hundredth time, it seems -- scans the tactical situation in the room. It is a casual glance, barely noticeable in his near-motionless state. His red chlamys cape, contrasting with the purple ones of the other soldiers, shifts faintly on his back, as his wings adjust their space. As the God-King lashes out, the Schola instinctively shoots his icy gaze to him... how dare he speak like that to a noble Empyrean? A distant silhouette of a flying Schola can be seen for a moment over the chamber through the glass window, as the Empyrean soldier makes another pass over this position, most likely scanning the proceedings inside, if such is at all possible from his vantage. Versus does not look up.

Cassius's own emotions, whatever they may be, are submerged beneath a habitually impassive mask. He studies Khalid for the space of a few heartbeats, then turns toward Thalia. "I believe the treaty stated that Avalon was to become a separate, sovereign nation, Maharani," he comments evenly. "If either the Empyre or the Varati were to determine their rulers, then it would seem that the spirit of the treaty is lost. Or am I mistaken?"

Thalia chuckles, as if amused. "Deus, I do not wish to decide the ruler or rulers of Avalon. However, I do wish they had one."

Hands once languishing over the edges of the throne's arm rests, now slide back so that fingers grip it firmly. The air continues to shimmer, baked by immortal flesh. Blue eyes remain upon Cassius in a crushing grasp made almost tangible by its intensity. Khalid allows the parlay to continue.

"And so..." Cassius muses aloud as his pale gaze switches back and forth between the King and Queen, "shall I infer that the Varati intend to... ah, assist Avalon in choosing its ruler? And the Varati troops--" He glances at Khalid, and amends, "--individuals, that have been spotted there... perhaps they are going to aid this ruler, so that he, or she, may fashion a government that you deem suitable?"

Without warning, the crystal blaze is eclipsed by menacing flame. Where once eyes had been, now fire licks joylessly. The marble beneath Khalid's palms glows red hot as his voice assails the figure of the diplomat, hammering at him with each word. "You try my patience, Cassius. That treaty was a boon to the Empyreans. An offering of generosity in the stead of total annihilation. If I decide to send troops into Avalon, I will. If I decide to rekindle the volcano that now lives where once an army of your kind had stood, I will." Lips draw back in disgusted anger, "I will however, tell you this -- it is my intent to allow the mongrels to build their kingdom in Avalon, and choose whomever they wish to be their ruler. You..." the word tapers into silence for a moment, "should have no more questions, Deus of Augustus."

Cassius's voice is a muted counterpoint to Khalid's thunderous retort. "I do not believe," he murmurs, "that this is the best way to forge a new peace between our nations, Amir-al. I have come here in good faith, to hear an explanation as to your armies' presence in Avalon. And, in addition, to offer what aid I may, in the recovery of your kidnaped Shakir. Instead, I am given denials and threats. How can I, or the Empyre, come to any other conclusion about your intentions than a hostile one?"

The Schola guards, and Versus in particular, observe Khalid with the air of someone who expects the other side to break treaties. In fact, the God-King just admitted that he is perfectly capable of doing so. A glance to Thalia bears perhaps, just perhaps, a slight compassion for being stranded in this lair, but this may just be imagined. Instead, the soldier, well aware of how fickle his life may be, should it come to blows, closes the circle around the Aegian slightly, giving a hand gesture to his men. Cassius will leave here alive, he seems quite confident of that... but his own life will be the cost. As far as the Praetorians are concerned, an admission to being willing to break a treaty is equal to breaking it, and grounds for war. Considering the rumors from the Varati lands, the time could not be better for it.

Claudius merely watches. The old campaigner in him is content to merely wait out the audience. His steel-grey eyes continue their subtle sweep of the room, though he doesn't seem to expect any sort of violence. Indeed, there's almost a serenity about the Legate.

Thalia looks over at the Atarvani occupying the throne room as Khalid erupts in anger. As his tongue lashes the diplomat, she gazes at the faithful. Only when Cassius has replied, does her mouth open and pour forth soothing words, "Your offer is kind, Deus, but your opinions, your conclusions, I cannot give you words to sway a suspicious mind. If you wish to believe my words are denials, then nothing I say can convince you. It is this suspicion and this inability to trust which has kept our two nations asunder. I had tried to allay your fears. I have, in good faith, told you my beliefs and intentions. I cannot force you to believe. I ask you to believe, but from you will only hear words. I cannot change what you think."

Once again, a hand reaches out to calm the God-King. "Khalid, remember, we are two peoples born of hate and distrust. Two years cannot end years of enmity. Please, do not think harshly of him. We must work to gain trust. If he will not extend it, let us do so. Let us put forth the olive branch and show that we wish to set aside our differences, even if he is unwilling and unable."

The crimson pillar finally draws her attention from Cassius for a few moments, if only to survey the room and to study the other Empyreans, though none are given the close scrutiny of her stare that the Deus was blessed with. Sabirah changes her position only slightly, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. When Cassius speaks again, however, something draws her attention back to him so swiftly that the river of hair down her back is caught in the short burst of air her movement creates. Her eyes once more narrow on the Augustin with a very faint smirk tugging at the corner of her dark lips.

It is times like these when Niamh finds his duty to be the hardest. He can understand the Deus' side, but he is also loyal to Khalid. He hopes is isn't called into this debate... maybe Delphi has little to do with Avalon.

Claudius remains where he is. Were he allowed to speak, things might have gone slightly differently in this. He may be a career military man, but he's no fool, and has been taught diplomacy by some of the best. But, what is, is, and has no relation to what might have been.

Amipal covers a mild cough with his hand, seemingly genuine and genuinely muted. Weapons notwithstanding, there is precious little overtly hostile about the man; the barbs of his associates remain fixed on target, however, their aim unwavering and thoroughly unwearied.

"I beg your pardon, Maharani," Cassius comments yet again, "but when I spoke of denial, I was referring to the statement about there being no warriors in Avalon." He glances at Claudius; evidently, the man has more information about that particular point. Cassius looks back toward the pair of thrones, and maybe it's just the palpable heat in the room, roused by the God-King's anger, but a thin sheen of sweat dews his brow. He inclines his head politely. "I am as dismayed by these proceedings as you are, Maharani, and I would like to believe all that you have told me. Yet you have told me precious little. Are there, or are there not, Varati troops in Avalon? And if so, what is their purpose there?"

Did she say 'our two people'? Versus stares at Thalia for a moment, his dispassionate gaze withdrawn, as some Schola do the same. She is, after all, an Empyrean, and hailing from a house that once claimed pure Empyrean blood. It must be the wealth of the place, and the position, he concludes, as his shoulders square even more and his chiseled chin raises faintly. Through the window above, another silhouette of a Praetor flashes high in the sky. The massive chamber of the Varati faithful bellows with its own life. Here, stone evidently has life, and earth is nearly sentient. A mysterious land it is, indeed, and a shame that it has not yet been conquered. The Varati designs on the walls contrast the Empyrean whites, and the fire that burns casts crimson flickers on the purest of wings.

Claudius looks to Cassius, giving him a silent look. It's the first time he's done so, and it's obvious that he does have something to say. He doesn't seem too thrilled with the direction this parley is headed, either.

Thalia repeats for Cassius, "I have not sent Varati troops into Avalon. As of this moment, Khalid has not sent troops into Avalon. Again, should you persist in calling my words false, I cannot change your accusations. I can only repeat myself and you will only gain further wrath from Khalid."

Khalid's gaze glows white-hot, searing the Empyrean delegate with depthless fury. Fingers begin sinking into the marble, rent malleable by heat, heat that bakes the air around him, and causes flames to flare from the stone beneath his hands. The muscles of the God-King's jaw clench, his boundless wrath held in check by the Maharani's soothing and even manner. A tenuous abatement, and one whose length depends on the words that next fall from Cassius's mouth.

Cassius exchanges a look with Claudius, his eyebrows lifted. "I would like to trust the verity of your words, Maharani," he answers. "You say that neither you nor... your husband have sent troops into Avalon. Is it possible, then, that Varati armies would have entered without your knowledge?" His eyes slide toward Khalid, and his wings shift again, restlessly, as he sees those flames flicker from the stone beneath the God-King's palms. Still, something possesses him to add, "Perhaps in much the same way that one of the Varati Clans kidnaped my cousin some years ago, unbeknownst to you, Amir-al."

Claudius suddenly and in great clarity realizes at least one of the causes of the last war. There's a surge of self-control from the man, a brief tightening of his jaw, and his normal composure is returned, as if unbroken. He will consider these things later, perhaps, but for now, he merely stands and waits.

With a heavy sigh, the Estrel steps forward. A hand is outstretched to the Deus and a bow of respect (and perhaps apology) is given to the Amir-Al. "Deus Augustin, Holiness, if I may interrupt? As a representative of Haven herself, I feel I must." It may not be to the Amir-Al's liking, but he nominated Niamh for the job. "Have you come here to speak about the treaty or to cause another war." No one ever said that /he/ was particularly diplomatic.

Thalia remains, as she was before, serene and calm, despite the continuation of implied accusations. "The Varati kingdom is a vast nation, filled with a multitude of people. While I wish all of them were like those who occupy this room," she gestures at Niamh and Sabirah, continuing, "trusting and loyal to Khalid, you and I are not blind to human nature. There will always be those who disagree. Indeed, there have been several attacks on my life in recent months. You, yourself, have heard that the beloved Shakir of /Khalida/ has been taken prisoner. Should dissidents prove your worries true, that they are in Avalon, thwarting Khalid's desire that Avalon be free and independent, then be assured that the God-King will not allow his will to be trampled. He will have these traitors removed so that Avalon can be free and independent, but they will be removed so that the recent treaty between our nations can be upheld."

At Niamh's words, Thalia smiles and inclines her head to him. "Perhaps this is a sign that this audience should end, when even Delphi begins to see the rifts between Varati and Empyrean."

Claudius quietly allows himself the luxury of grinding his teeth, but just for a moment. Later, he'll allow himself to feel disgust, but not just yet.

Whatever reply that Cassius had planned to make to Niamh at the Estrel's interruption is curtailed by the Maharani's reply. Jaw tight, expression immobile, he dips his head in a courteous nod. "I am afraid that this meeting did not go as I had planned, imphada." He conveys another nod to Khalid, equally polite, "Amir-al. Since I do not wish to leave your halls with such tension hanging in the air, allow me to extend an offer of Empyreal scouts, if you desire them. To aid in the recovery of your Shakir. Our scouts are swift and efficient, and may be able to cover more ground than landbound troops. Perhaps they might notice some clues from the air that one could not glimpse from the ground. If you wish, I can arrange for a pentus or two to be deployed, in order to assist your rescue mission."

The air of baleful fury does not subside when the God-King hands an answer down to Cassius. "No. We know where the Shakir is to be found." Eyes still burn. Stone threatens to drip from the chair to the floor, molten.

The heavy gaze that glances upon the Estrel comes from Versus and several other Schola guards. Unarmed as they may be, they will let *no one* approach the Aegian and the Legate. Their bodies like those of coiled predators, they wait... keeping a vigilant look on the Estrel.

Claudius glances at the molten throne, though what he thinks of it is left unsaid. Indeed, he's done precious little since entering Atesh-Gah, save stand beside the Deus Augustin.

Thalia holds up a hand as if to mitigate Khalid's absolute refusal. "Perhaps, your offer could be used to a different purpose, Deus. I cannot predict the future, but those with sight into the what is yet to come believe that dark times will fall upon Haven. Please, bring your troops here so that we may show this city that we cherish it." At these words, she looks over at Claudius, since he is the military man. "Legate, do you believe that your troops would be willing to prevent dark times on falling upon Haven?"

Claudius raises an eyebrow at that. "A most interesting question," he says, speaking for the first time. His eyes flash for a moment, as he contemplates Thalia's phrasing -- there's really only one good answer to the question. "Though they are not my troops to command, but the Imperator's, and charged with the defense of Empyreal interests in Haven. The Praetorian Guard will do as the Imperator commands."

Sabirah watches Niamh as he steps forward and speaks on behalf of the candala tower that sits in the center of the city. As she has been through this audience, she remains emotionless in her expression. It changes, slightly, however at the offer of aid from the Empyrean people, or at least from this one. The ghostly smirk drifts away while an ebon eyebrow arches toward her forehead. This unusual gesture takes her by surprise, though the quick return from the Amir-al does not. Her dark gaze flashes over to Thalia and as she listens to the calm tone of her Queen, her expression settles back to its calm demeanor.

Thalia looks over at Niamh, before asking Claudius, "And do you, Legate, believe that the Imperator will help defend Haven?"

Niamh steps back, away from the two... conversing factions, back towards Sabirah. Now, he never thought he would have to call on /that/ rank here. He meets the Maharani's gaze for a moment before offering a bow and listening once more.

Claudius raises an eyebrow at Thalia, her questions too vague for him to answer. "I cannot answer that question, unless I know details of the danger you speak of. There are circumstances where the Guard would withdraw from Haven, and others where we would defend it to the death. I believe there are also circumstances under which we would work alongside Varati clan warriors to achieve our goals. The latter was, indeed, my original purpose in coming here."

In his routine pan around the room, Versus freezes his gaze upon Sabirah for a moment. Full of contempt is that one, and it seems to be directed straight at his uncle, the great Empyrean Aegian. Her face memorized, he follows the exotic Varati designs on the walls with a casual sweep, letting his eyes finally rest on the throne once again. His polished Praetorian armor seems spotless even in the firelight, and his fanned Imperial helm covers most of his face. He can hear what is happening, no doubt, but his presence here is as a guard, so he makes no attempt to speak at all. His manners, curt and military, display a perhaps more flamboyant personality hidden underneath -- one of noble and educated proportions -- but here, he will remain efficient, calm and swift.

For a suspended moment, Cassius does no more than look at Khalid. He couldn't meet that fiery, cobalt gaze earlier, but he finds the boldness to do so now. His composure is slipping somewhat, and a tremor passes through his wings while perspiration dots his brow; not entirely due to the heat. Anyone with an ounce of perception can tell that he's afraid; Khalid Atar pulled a volcano out of the ground, and what is one Empyrean in comparison to such power? Still, Cassius stares at the God without flinching, and finally dips his head in another nod. "Very well," he answers. "May the gods grant that she be recovered soon."

The Aegian's gaze goes to Thalia, then Claudius next, after the Maharani's suggestion. Cassius nods again, as if confirming the Legate's words. "Our nations each have a vested interest in this city," he adds. "I hope that if dark times are in store for Haven, that we will meet them with alacrity. Perhaps in that, at least, we would find some common ground."

Khalid's searing gaze tortures Cassius with lavish attention, "I grant that she will be found, Deus. This audience..." the thunderous words stretch out into silence, "is over."

Thalia gestures at Niamh. "Delphi is the final authority for Haven even as the Estrel is their eyes and ears at this meeting. It is good that he can take some good news with him to the Estrella. I hope, Legate, that when we meet next, we will have more common ground," says Thalia at the heels of Khalid's decision.

"Amir-al," Cassius says, bowing again -- then in turn to Thalia, "Maharani. Vale." And with no more farewell than that, the Aegian turns, glancing briefly toward both Claudius and Versus before starting for the grand double doors that lead out into the foyer.

Claudius shrugs to Thalia, his eyes and posture clear: we do have common ground, but we never choose to occupy it. He shrugs his wings, and turns to follow Cassius out of the throne room.

Versus glances one last time at the impressive Throne Room of the Varati God-King. So small life is in comparison to such construction, and here it is evident plainly. Another look goes to the throne... with the rumors of Varati revolution that seep lazily into Haven, who knows who will be sitting on that throne the next time he sees it. With a wave of his left hand, the Schola turns on this heel, and as the Empyrean elite guards escort their elders in perfect formation, he treats those watching to another display of military discipline, even if fanatical by now. His walk is purposeful, his motions fluid, and his predatorial intensity held back in style. He will be back one day... of that, he is sure.

FIN  

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