It took them another hour to finally make it to land. Her stomach was twisting in knots as she agonized over Aegyr's warnings; it didn't escape Orion's notice, who seemed gentler than usual. "Look at the bright side," he tried to console her. "You can always take your anger out on someone else, and as long as it's not the emperor it will always be fine. You could prank them all, if you so wished, and they would probably thank you for it."
They would be arriving to the port of Corinth. Although the journey to the capital, Aurelia, was only four hours away on horseback, they would spend the night in the city to give them time to rest. The next day Ophelia would be taken straight into the Elysian parliament, called the Pleroma, to be presented formally to the empire and given a rank. This, Aegyr had told her, would require a test of her strength, a show of what she was capable of. That was what was in her mind when she said to Orion, "perhaps I should make another creature, and present that at the Pleroma. I'll make it big, and terrifying, and hopefully enough people will faint that I will feel better."
Orion laughed, and in his face a certain wild spark coloured his eyes and smile. "I would like it very much if you did so."
The thought cheered her up as they disembarked. This time the Elysian nobles were to go first, then Orion, Aegyr and finally her. As her feet touched Elysian soil, the evening sky suddenly erupted into blue light, as the people who were waiting for them all saluted her calling balls of Dorian fire into the air. They walked down the pier bathed in that soft glow, under the deadly luminaries.
The crowd had been divided into two: the nobles in their shimmering blue robes, who would be next to her, and the commoners in dark tunics, scattered through the docks to catch sight of her. A carriage had been prepared, and she boarded it with Orion amongst the excited murmurs of the crowd. Aegyr, loyal to his preference for riding, would lead the procession on horseback.
Corinth was smaller than Caudiceum and definitely smaller than the sprawl of Arqa; it seemed like a sleepy, provincial town that was solely dedicated to its port. It had been built on rather swampy grounds, and was perfectly flat, making it prone to floods. Because of that, Elysian ingenuity had simply built its roads as raised walkways, and their houses and public plazas on raised steps. Immediately it became evident the differences with the other two places she'd visited in that world: Elysium preferred brick houses with red-tiled roofs, their plastered walls covered with beautiful and elaborate paintings simulating architectural features and foliage.
The governor of the city lived in its outskirts, in a large complex organized around a beautifully laid out central garden. He was to host them for the night, something that soon became evident would definitely be one of the highlights of his tenure. They shared dinner with their family; his wife, his seven children, and his concubine.
"Do Elysian men also have concubines?" she whispered to Orion as they moved to take their seats.
"It's very shameful to have small families in the empire," he explained. "Generally, the higher the rank the more children and concubines a man is expected to have."
Ophelia whistled, her eyes straying to the highest ranked man in the empire. "How big is Aegyr's family?"
Orion grimaced. "That is… a complicated answer. Perhaps you should ask him yourself."
The dinner hall had been arranged so that the tables formed a square; with their backs to the north-facing wall, and positioned on a raised platform, were respectively Orion, Ophelia and Aegyr. On their left were the Elysian nobles that had sailed with them, and on the right the hosts. In front, facing them, were some of the governor's retainers and their families.
Before the servants brought food, the governor serenaded them with a small monologue that propped his sense of self-importance but also celebrated his honoured guests. He toasted to Ophelia, to Aegyr, and to the empire in that order, eliciting the sort of animated response one should expect from anyone who has surrounded themselves with sycophants.
As Aegyr had warned her, all eyes were on her. The children looked fascinated, the women curious, the men calculating. Due to the layout, thankfully, she didn't need to engage in small talk with anyone, at least while they ate. It was when they were led to what they called an 'evening room' that she thought seriously about just walking off to find a place to go to sleep.
They were received by musicians playing lyres and flutes; the sound was soothing, and not so loud that it would dominate the room. It remained in the background as people began to mix, enjoying more food and wine that servants brought in and out.
"You're my chaperone," Ophelia reminded Orion as she stubbornly stuck close to him. "Glare at them so that they won't bother me."
"I will try my best, my lady," he said, clearly amused at her distress. He did help her out: as one after the other guests would come by to introduce themselves and make small chat, he'd remind them not to stick around for too long. "We should be fair to everyone who's trying to meet her highness," he'd say with a not-so-friendly smile.
Ophelia realized, as the night went on, that she had correctly read the other's stares as she was presented with the first taste of what one could call the court game. Her life in Byzantium and the rumours surrounding the events at Arqa were foremost in everyone's minds, as they tried to garner any information that would give them some advantage over the rest of the aristocracy. It became clear that what everyone was after, the most precious commodity in that room, was her favour. If she smiled at what someone said, looks would be exchanged and smirks would be shared; if she frowned, panic would set in.
It was tiring, but she fared with it as she could. Her directness made it all the more difficult for the nobles to know how to engage her, and they would soon capitulate lest they provoke her ire. Finally, it was acceptable for her to retire, and she left the festivities guided by Orion and a servant.
"You did well," the praetorian said as she settled in for the night, "they can be that boring. Perhaps, for next time, we should set someone's hair on fire. That should liven them up a little bit."
His ask for some entertainment was delivered about twenty minutes later, when Ophelia was already in bed. She heard her room's doors open slowly and softly, and she sat up to find three young men sneaking inside.
"Excuse me?" she said, as she willed the candles in the room to light up. Immediately, she realized several things at once: they were all barely dressed, with their eyes and lips covered in gold, they looked very scared, and none of them reached twenty years of age.
"Your highness," the bravest of them tried to explain, "the master of the house sent us to serve you."
They will create weaknesses they will try to exploit Aegyr's voice rang in her mind, and she wondered if this is what he meant. If it was, it was a rather shoddy attempt, one that she could easily take care of.
"I don't need serving, I need some quiet so I can go to sleep," she pointed out, and threw the covers off her. As she walked closer to them it became all the more evident to her that the kind of serving they had been sent to do wasn't their routine profession, and she wondered if such sloppy attempt at trying to entice her favour was merely the result of the Baron's provincial ways. She walked around them, holding a single finger out. They flinched at her gestures initially; fear soon turned to amazement as the scant clothing they wore began to change. It expanded, wrapping itself around their bodies so that they would not be so exposed to a stranger's eyes.
"Go back," she said, "I will deal with your master myself."
She left the room and the three men inside. She walked back to where the evening's entertainments were still happening. From outside, in the garden, she could spy through the window that Aegyr had retired, like herself, but Orion was still doing the rounds, seemingly enjoying being the centre of attention. As she saw a servant walk off with a basket full of grapes, she stopped him and asked him to bring it back into the room, and to place it in the middle.
Confused, he did as she asked. None of the nobles paid any attention to him or the basket that was in the middle of the room. Without revealing herself, from outside one of the windows that faced the courtyard, she focused on the grapes. They bloomed, growing in size vertically, then forming shapes. Like her chaperone had tried to do with the ostraka, she gave them features, slowly morphing them into shapely, naked women.
The transformation didn't fail to catch everyone's attentions; as the grapes began to shift around the floor, growing and contorting into dolls, murmurs and screams suddenly filled the room. Piled on top of one another Ophelia had left for them an offering of women whose skin was the silky smooth green of a ripe grape, and its flesh was juicy, filled with seed.
Someone made a brave attempt at trying to touch the immobile dolls, which of course prompted Ophelia to indulge her mischievous side. She made them move, which at first started with some trembling as the rigid bodies tried to fight against their own nature. Then, the dolls crawled on the floor, eliciting more gasps and horrified looks from the crowd. She made them stand up with some effort and then had them eerily walk towards the host of the night, whose curiosity had quickly transformed into pure fear.
They reached out to him, and he finally realised he could use his aether to protect himself. The closest doll had her arms cut off, then her head; it made the body crumble, grape juice dripping and splashing on the floor. The second doll then fell, then the third one, and Ophelia decided after the fourth one that she'd had enough.
The guests' terror was interrupted by her laughter. They all turned towards the window she was now leaning into, as she tried to calm herself and dry off the merry tears in her eyes. "My apologies, Baron," she said, "I meant to give you juicy grapes you could turn into the most delicious wine."
The Baron's face was pale, and he spluttered something; he clearly didn't know what to make of her actions. "Oh, I think I might have made a mistake," Ophelia pressed, "perhaps I made too many assumptions about what my host wanted and made him uncomfortable."
It didn't occur to Ophelia, when Aegyr warned her about the ways of the Elysian nobles, that perhaps she'd find her lifetime of watching royal dramas on the BBC useful. Passive-aggressiveness and compliments that hid backhanded insults were a true sign of the pure english side of her heritage.
"M-my most sincere t-thanks, your highness," the confused Baron said, as his eyes darted around the room. It was clearly that none of his guests knew how to feel about the situation, either; all except for one. Orion began laughing uncontrollably, to the point he had to hold his stomach. When Ophelia said nothing about it, everyone decided it'd be best to follow the praetorian primum's example, and began laughing, too.
She thought all had been said and done, and went back to her room. The next day, she found that the entire dining hall had been decorated with grapes, and the nervous Baron had decided to take the whole thing as a sign from her to engage in new business ventures.
"I shall send your highness a bottle of our wine, if you shall allow me the honour," he said, and Ophelia exchanged glances with Orion, refusing to believe that the man was that delusional. They both humoured him.
"These grapes will make the sourest wine in the world," Orion whispered to her, "but you did well yesterday. That is the sort of tricks that will work well with this lot. I'm curious though, what made you do that?"
"He sent three prostitutes to my room," she said, frowning. "I don't know why he did it, but it felt insulting."
Orion chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. "Nobles in the countryside are a different breed. It's not unheard of in the capital that families trying to make a good match with one of their guests will send their daughters into their rooms. He must've thought it would make sense to do something similar regardless of the genders being reversed."
"That's very cheeky."
"And dangerous," he said. "In the empire, a man having relations with a woman of a higher standing is punishable by death. It is considered a type of stupro."
Aegyr, who was clueless about the entire situation, only found out when they were two hours into their journey to Aurelia when he made a comment about the strange fondness for grapes that their host had developed overnight. Knowing the implications of the Baron's actions, Ophelia hesitated to tell him, but Orion decided that it would be too funny to pass up the opportunity to see Aegyr lose his composure.
And he did. His eyes turned cold, his mouth forced into a sneer. "I will let my men know," he said, looking for all intents and purposes as if he wanted to jump out of the carriage to ride back to Corinth and behead the Baron himself.
The land near Aurelia was largely flat, which made for a very boring landscape to look at through the carriage window. Fields extended from the side of the road into the horizon; as they headed into winter the moderate temperature of the southern part of the empire allowed for crops to keep growing, but farmers would rotate to their winter produce, which dealt better with the frequent rain of the colder months. Large eucalyptus trees had been planted in groves, sometimes as a way to protect the fields from wind, sometimes as a way to offer shade to farmer's houses.
She was surprised to find that signposts had been erected at almost every road crossing they came across, offering the traveller information as to what was in each direction. Sometimes they would also have stone pillars to the side, where people left offerings. As they passed through one that was large enough she could make out the writing in it, she let out a surprised gasp.
"That looks like Latin!" she said. "Is that the way you write in Elysium?"
Aegyr nodded, and produced a scroll that he'd been reading. "It was brought from Byzantium by his majesty the emperor." Ophelia read through it; it wasn't quite the same as the English alphabet she was familiar with, but it was close enough that she could make out the Elysian words they corresponded to. "Do you understand it?"
"The letters we use in our alphabet are derived from this one," she explained. "It's slightly different, but close enough that I could make out some of what it says. It's a very old alphabet, used to write a language that's been dead for more than a thousand years."
She entertained them the rest of the way by showing them, on a wax tablet, the block and cursive styles of writing she knew. There were few words in Latin that had survived in the English language, and she shared it with them; Orion was fascinated, and could recognise a lot of it, as they were also present in old Elysian manuscripts.
The sight of fields began to change into that of small villages, then towns as they got closer to Aurelia. The people outside wore all dark-coloured clothing that looked like simpler cuts of the traditional aristocratic every day wear. Commoners, Ophelia had been told by Baron Doria, were mostly native Elysians, but foreigners were encouraged and allowed to settle in the Empire, and it wasn't rare for Elysian commoner families to have diverse backgrounds from the nearby kingdoms. Because of that, their characteristics were a bit unlike those of the aristocracy: they had that strange vibrancy in their hair and eye colour, and seemed altogether taller than the average Elysian noble.
Before they even realised it, they had arrived at Aurelia. The city had expanded over the centuries as families spilled over the borders of the fortifications that had once surrounded it, and red-tiled roofed villas had been built for the prosperous, simple one-room houses with terraces for the poor. Unlike Arqa and Caudiceum, all roads had been paved to a certain extent. The smoothest, most impressive roads were those that led straight into the old city gates, as they took travellers right into the heart of the city's administrative buildings.
They passed by plazas that were bursting with activity; commoners mostly walked and rode in and out of the local markets to buy and sell their wares. The streets, Ophelia noted, were uncommonly clean: teenagers and children would run around with large baskets tied to their backs picking up garbage. It was explained to her that things like horse manure and food waste were sold to make fertilizer, ostraka was sold to schools and the literate to use for record keeping: everything could be recycled, and in the harsh mercantile economy of the city, everything could be sold for a price.
In spite of Aegyr's warnings, she kept sticking her head out of the window of the carriage, the small curtain that normally would offer them some privacy unceremoniously driven back the moment they'd arrived within the outskirts of the city. She watched in fascination the wild colours of early autumn paint over a city that seemed to value its aesthetics above all. The streets were lined with birch and ash trees, which by then had begun to turn yellow. The houses tended to be small, simple one-storey affairs, but the white plaster on the outside was often decorated with frescos. Some would be some sort of advertisement for what was sold within its precinct, some would be, like in Corinth, optical illusions to simulate a richer facade. There was graffiti, too, on the walls: people's names, instructions to reach some tavern or a brothel, a wish for good luck. Blue, the royal Elysian colour, was considered good luck, and so all things that were deemed important were painted in that theme; red was everything barbaric and taboo, green was associated with good health, yellow with disaster and illness and black with love, of all things. Orion had told her, upon seeing a very strange mural on the wall of one of their houses, that 'to turn someone's teeth black' was an idiom meant to say that someone had been seduced.
As they reached the gates of the old city, more and more light blue robes were seen amongst the crowd. In spite of the fashion taking a turn for the bolder, on either side of the streets the colour began to dim as more and more buildings ditched the frescos and the plaster in favour of different marble stones and more elaborate, classical-looking architecture. The road widened, enough that it was able to accommodate their carriage side by side with two more, and still have enough space for the plethora of families making their way to the Grand Plaza. Fathers carried their toddlers on their shoulders, mothers and grandparents hurrying children and teenagers along. The mood was jovial, as if everyone was gathering for a festival.
At the southern gates they stopped, met with a sea of Knights dressed in their impeccable dark navy robes. Ophelia, who up until then had been distracted by the spectacle of the city around her, suddenly felt a wave of nausea as anxiety gripped her. Nobody, she made her mind up at that time, should be subjected to this much fanfare. She thought of London and the one person she felt most kinship with at that moment, and tried to ask for inspiration from whatever god was listening. One would have to forgive her the impertinence of comparing herself to Queen Lizzie, but she had no other role model to follow in that situation.
Orion and Aegyr descended first; the Lyre's Tears in the latter's ear draw gasps from the crowd as they gathered to see who was about to receive the royal treatment from the Knights. For the occasion she'd been given a different kind of stola to wear: it was made of fine silk threads of a vibrant lapis-lazuli hue, its hems embroidered with a thick gold thread. This, in absence of any other markers, was a sign for the crowd to recognise her, and when she walked off the carriage, it made the gasps turn into joyful screams and cheers.
In a move that was already all-too-familiar to her, Aegyr brought her to one of the black steeds that had been prepared for the parade to the parliament. This time she'd sit alone on the horse, while Aegyr led the animal from its reigns from the ground. The mount had been richly decorated in gold and blue, with encrusted gems in it. The simplicity of the fashion went out of the door when such pomp was required, and the look seemed to her almost kitsch.
The Knights opened the road for them, and the parade started. From both sides she saw and heard the hungry gazes of Aurelia; its aristocracy had pooled into the streets for their first-row places. She'd already imagined that her arrival would be taken as a sign of a new age and a vindication of their world view. As their hands reached out to her, as the banners flaming at the top of their poles blended into the deep blue sky, she imagined herself getting caught deeper and deeper into a spiderweb spun from their desires for greater power, wealth, success. Unlike the Romans that they so emulated, the Elysians were at the peak of their history; and if there was one thing Ophelia had learnt from living in her own world is that it was then when people's greed for more reached its inevitable climax.
Grander, taller buildings lined the streets of the old city. Some of them were residences for the wealthy, for the high aristocracy; most of them were administrative buildings of some sort, gymnasiums, baths, leisure complexes. At the centre laid the Grand Plaza, with Aurelia's central temple to the east, and the house of parliament, the Pleroma, to the west. A large statue had been placed in the middle which, to her surprise, did not depict the emperor, but rather was a representation of Elysium herself, winged and triumphantly wielding a sword over the dead bodies of her enemies. The emperor, she'd later come to know, was represented by the golden veins that covered her entire body, which also served as a visual representation of her aether. Smaller pillars had been erected in a semi circle around the statue, representing the seven Elysian virtues. Over them, bronze sculptures represented symbolically the seven achievements of the emperor that illustrated said virtues.
Space was a luxury in Aurelia, and the bigger the structure the more important it was. The plaza was the size of a cricket pitch, with marble tiles lining the entirety of it. The building of the Pleroma was unlike any she'd seen so far in Lygeum: it was round like the Roman Coliseum, with a dome-like ceiling decorated richly with solar figures. Unlike the Coliseum, however, it was lined with pillars as tall as a four-storey building, which had all been meticulously inscribed with the stories of the emperor's achievements. He was not a visible figure in his empire, it seemed, but his presence was everywhere.
After meeting some of the officials at the bottom of the stairs that led to the parliament, she began to climb them, followed by Aegyr and Orion. It all blurred together; the sensation of the stares on her neck, the greetings and smiles of those she would never talk to again, the trepidation of being caught in a position she'd rather not be in. She made it to the inside, and before she took the centre stage of the proceedings that day, it occurred to her that Caudiceum's forum was a low budget version of the building she was in.
The Pleroma was made up of all the heads of the main branches of the families of Elysian aristocracy. This helped reduce the number of people in the chamber and keep a tighter control over who was allowed in, like in any good old nepotist regime. At present, Ophelia was facing about one hundred sixty men, forty women (mostly widows whose children were too young to represent their families). They all were wearing a dark green sash over their shoulders, which was traditional wear for sitting in a session at the Pleroma.
The circular room had been set up, much like Caudiceum's forum, with steps as seats, so that its members could easily sit and stand up to deliver their arguments. To the west, a space had been left open, and a platform of sorts had been built out of marble, to house the emperor's throne. Decked in blue and gold, it was mostly symbolic, as the emperor rarely stepped out of his temple in Sophia. But it served as a reminder to the members of the parliament that they were officials, not rulers.
For her, a chair had been prepared in front of the throne, and at Aegyr's prompting, she took a seat in it while he and Orion took their places amongst the Pleroma.
"The most joyful occasion brings us together today," the presiding magistrate began his speech. "As providence would have it that we see the arrival of a citizen from Byzantium, our most holy land from which all gifts were given. Today we celebrate the investiture of her highness Ophelia of Byzantium as it is the good order that this great Empire must keep. The floor is now open for any consul that wishes to speak."
Several men stood up at the same time. The presiding magistrate pointed at the eldest amongst them, and the rest sat back down. "Your lordship, your highness, I salute you. This old man is indeed overjoyed that he has witnessed such a miracle in his lifetime. It is the concern of our county that matters discussed to her highness' rank and correct form of address are dealt with first, so that it facilitates other incumbent discussions."
Multiple murmurs rose in approval. The magistrate announced, "proceed".
"The proposal of this county is that her highness should be appointed until further notice to the office of princeps; official title as princess."
Another man stood up, and was given the floor. "This is not a kingdom, Count; it'd be an insult for Elysium to imitate the ways of the barbarians. As the highest title in our land below his majesty the emperor is that of arch-duke, arch-duchess should suffice, and in accordance to our laws, her highness should be given lands to oversee."
It was at that point that Ophelia decided to tune out of the proceedings, as the consuls began to get more esoteric in their legalese. The overall sense of the discussion, from what she understood, was that her appointment would carry certain legal implications, and given the unprecedented nature of her appearance, nobody was really sure where to put it. Titles in the aristocracy were not just the mere address forms that were given by birthright: in the empire, they were tied to land rights, and unlike in her land of birth, they were unalienable from it. So if she was given the title of archduchess, a duchy would be created for her to manage; however, it seemed like many had reservations about a Byzantine having to deal with large swathes of land, as it felt too mundane for her. Complicating things was the fact that she was a woman, and women did not often hold office in the empire, so she couldn't just be given a position that would give her rights of administration.
To her surprise, Aegyr seemed just as bored as she was, and was simply staring stone-faced towards the room. Orion, however, seemed to be whispering something to the people around him, giving the impression he was feeding them ideas.
"Perhaps it's best that we settle this matter after his majesty the emperor has been consulted," one of the men sitting behind Orion said. "It is an abuse of the office the Pleroma holds that it should rule over Byzantine matters. This should be resolved in Sophia, not here."
That rhetoric had no counter-argument, unless someone was in the mood of being accused of heresy. It was then decided that an enquiry would be sent to the main temple in Sophia, and Orion was given order by the presiding magistrate to convey their words back to the emperor.
She was then called forward. "As the custom normally requires for every coming-of-age ceremony in our great empire, we ask for a demonstration of feat, so that no one in this Pleroma, or any of the families they represent, will ever contest your place in Elysium."
Ophelia cocked her head, and couldn't stop the cheeky smile that blossomed in her face. She caught sight of Orion, who was eagerly anticipating the show, and gave him a wink before she stood up. "In Byzantium, it would be often the case that one would seek entertainment from stories and plays meant to scare the audience," she said as she removed the royal blue robe she'd been wearing until then.
"I particularly enjoyed stories with strange creatures in it," she continued, and threw the robe up into the air, "and thought, perhaps, I could create one for you."
The stola floated almost as in slow motion, and as it began its descent, it started to mutate. The ethereal cloth trembled, its ends twisting into spikes; from them, four legs emerged. They were skinny, brittle at first, but as the searched for the ground they became wider, meatier. The main body had also expanded, taking a somewhat skeletal shape. From one end, a neck began to protrude. As if someone's fingers had been trying to push something out, the head emerged, with ten golden orbs on its centre as eyes. It was halfway between a spider and a human, its features barely discernable. As a final touch, almost for decoration, delicate, translucent golden petals the size of a child emerged from its back, floating in the air as if they had been submerged under water.
There were those amongst the consuls who were brave enough to stay in their seats, and those who ran back, gathering closer to the exits. Ophelia made the creature move in their direction, and screams ensued. Before it would escalate, she made it go back to his knees, as if it was going to sleep. She could see, now that the body of her creation wasn't in the way, that several consuls had actually fainted, and was not able to contain her laughter.
While the Pleroma tried to gather its bearings, she gave a thumbs up to Orion, before remembering it would be read differently by everyone else. It seemed, to her favour, that no one noticed or were already too busy trying to process what just had happened to care. Orion was simply beside himself with laughter, and even Aegyr himself had cracked a smile.
"Is that enough?" she asked the magistrate with a smirk, as she dried the tears in her eyes. Scaring Elysians would never stop being funny. The man, bless his soul, was too stuck in his own formality to be shaken by her, and he announced the end of her test to the rest of the chamber. A rush happened then, as those who'd left their seats tried to save face by going back, and those who had fainted were awkwardly moved to one side to avoid being trampled on.
Aegyr stood up then. "Will anyone in this room object to her highness receiving the Lyre's tears?"
Clearly no one would. He walked up to her, and around the sleeping creature she'd left in the centre of the room, and presented her not one, but two earrings. "As his majesty the Emperor is the only one to wear two, because of your shared origin we bestow two to your highness, as well."
He leaned in, and fixed one on her left ear, before asking for her right. "Apologies," he whispered, before he pierced it. Once more she felt the sting of his aether and the fresh pine scent from his hair, and before she knew what she was doing she had reached out to take a strand of it in her hand.
He felt him shudder at the contact. She dropped her hands, muttering an apology; blushing, she wondered what had overcome her. The show had to go on, of course, and she knew she had to let the matter drop. So did he, but before, he decided to take his revenge: sweetly, gently, he tucked her hair behind her ears to reveal the Tears.
And then, it was done. The Magistrate drew the session to a close, and she was whisked away to the large halls behind the Pleroma's forum. The afternoon had just started, and it was now time for the festivities, the drinking and eating, and more importantly, the socializing.
"Remember what I've told you," Aegyr whispered in her ear as he escorted her. "I need to report to the consuls so I will be gone for a few hours."
He wished her good luck before taking his leave. She turned towards Orion with a hopeful expression, and he chuckled at her. "I'm afraid, my lady, I'm also called by my duties. I ought to leave now for Sophia, to relay the Pleroma's ask to the emperor."
"Oh no, don't tell me I'll have to deal with them on my own."
"You've been doing a wonderful job so far," he smiled. "You can always bring that creature with you; they will be too scared to talk to you. They do like to give themselves airs of importance, and then faint at the slightest sign of trouble."
That seemed to placate her. "I shall come back soon enough, unless I'm sent to run some other errands. But I will try my best; someone needs to keep Aegyr at bay."
"I can do that!"
Orion laughed, and patted her head affectionately. "Oh no, you can't."
And ignoring her protests, he left.