It's only a day's ride back to Theolisis, but they do not see the tyr that day, or the next. Instead, they spend the night at the Katharsi house, the house for strangers, again. They bathe at night, and the next day Lauryn dresses in the same new clothing she wore for her first visit to the Astikos, and which she hadn't worn since. They go to the Astikos, where they ... still don't see the tyr. She and Skotonys are quartered in separate but adjacent rooms within the gigantic building, where they spend another night. Again, they bathe before bed. This time, two demure bath attendants help Lauryn wash, and they rub a scented oil into her fur an wash it out again with warm water as the last part.
The next morning, her fur feels softer than it ever has, even when she still lived at home. She's given new clothes again, fashioned in the Laosian style but made of cloth woven so fine she can barely discern the threads, with rich embroidery and beaded trim along the hems. Skotonys, likewise, is dressed better than she's ever seen him before. He looks at once handsome in the rich garb, and unfamiliar, as if he was not himself without armor and swords. He keeps his hands at his sides, composed as ever, but Lauryn catches him once positioning his right hand to rest on the hilt of a weapon that isn't there.
Bells ring at long intervals in the Astikos, dividing the day into parts. Perhaps four hours after the first bell, but before the second, Lauryn and Skotonys are finally taken to see the tyr.
The tyr for it must be the tyr, surely no one else would be given such a seat sits upon the throne. He wears fine clothing of pure white, embroidered with threads like spun gold given the nature of the place, maybe it is gold and set with diamonds. He has long, loose hair that glows white where the light hits it, and gold where it is in shadow. A loosely woven net of gold chain and diamonds rests over his hair, springing from the gold fox mask with black eyes that hides his face. He wears boots, as the human Laosians do, and not sandals like the foxes. His are white leather tooled with gold. Matching gloves cover his hand. The only parts of him -- as opposed to his clothing that are clearly visible are vulpine ears, white-furred on the inside and dark gold on the out, a bit of his throat covered in very fine, short white fur, quite unlike Skotonys's thick ruff and a long vulpine tail with thick dark gold fur and a white tip.
To either side of the tyr are ranks of an honor guard of alternating humans and foxes, eight to a side. The guard are clad in aqua and blue armor that matches the room, rather than their liege, making the tyr's figure even more striking. On the floor before the throne, about four feet in front of it, rests a low cushioned bench to one side, and a single cushion on the other.
The herald who guided them here approaches the throne, and genuflects. "Dynatos tyr, Archon Skotonys Amikitos of the Northern Watch, and Ria Lauryn Egalantine, a prodotis, attend upon dynatos tyr's request."
The gold-masked man nods, the diamonds covering his hair glittering with the motion. "Diabaino. Approach." He gestures to Lauryn and Skotonys.
Lauryn isn't sure she's ever heard of this much oppulence, let alone ever seen it. She thinks the Captain Astromancer must have a room like this, or perhaps the Marquis of Gallis can boast of a similiar crown -- but to find this much elegance and wealth so far from civilization? It boggles Lauryn's mind, making her feel like the explorers she read about, discovering some lost or undiscovered society greater than even myth could describe.
But the most important treasure here is not the room; it's the Tyr himself. The man is much like the room: elegant, rare, even mythical. The boasts he may be a god-prince seem far less unlikely as the young women sees him upon his throne. He's stunning ... Intimidating ... Even for a woman who walks with nightmares, there's something emminantly overwhelming about the Tyr's presence. spoof Regal, he's so ... Regal, thinks Lauryn, though she's never met a ruler in person before. The Tyr simply fits her idea of what regal must be, and in the face of him, she feels very small indeed. Approaching the throne with Skotonys, Lauryn genuflects as she was instructed, hoping she doesn't look as dazzled as she feels. The Tyr's stare is practically palable on her shoulders, making her all the more nervous.
After what feels like a very long moment, the tyr speaks again. "Rise. You may be seated." He has a strong, baritone voice that carries the same weight as his physical presence. Skotonys takes the bench to the right, leaving the cushion on the left for Lauryn. The herald's withdrawn; Lauryn never even saw him leave, she was so absorbed by the rest of the spectacle. When she risks a look at Skotonys, she sees he looks just as calm as he does when writing at his desk. Or in the heat of battle.
He would never betray concern or worry before the Tyr, I just know he wouldn't, Lauryn thinks as she settles upon the cushion left for her. From her time with Archon Skotonys, she knows him to be a man of honor and intergrity; a dutiful man of compassion and great personal skill. He simply wouldn't embarass himself before his lord, and unlike her, he also has less to fear from the Laosian god-prince. Lauryn, as she well knows, has everything to fear -- but this time a piece of that everything is one of the most initimidating men she's ever known. Even without the room, Lauryn thinks the man could bring a hush to the highest balls. In her own way, Lauryn had always thought she was, at least, a little special for her power -- it's humbling to see someone greater still.
There's another long pause, giving Lauryn ample time to consider her place and the situation. The seascape is ... oddly soothing, with its palette of blues and blue-greens, and the bright colorful sea animals. The room is lit by two massive chandeliers that hang from the ceiling, and burning wicks rise from the frills of the sea-monster-throne. Like the other oil lamps, they all burn clean. There's a slightly bluish tint to the light; Lauryn can't really tell if that's due to the quality of the light or just the room.
It's long enough before the tyr speaks again that Lauryn has time to wonder if she's done something wrong, or missed some subtle cue. But at last the gold mask turns to settle those blank black eyes upon her. "Ria Lauryn. I have heard much of you from others." Unlike most Laosians, he actually uses pronouns for both himself and her; it's almost strange to hear that construction in an address. "That you are a witch, or /thirys/. That you control /isityros/, or that they control you. That you fell from the sky like a god, or that you are a simple /prodotis, found lost upon my lands. I have heard enough from other people. Now you will tell me about yourself. Who are you, and why are you here?"
Lauryn inclines her head at the command, feeling she should make some show of difference even if she hadn't been instructed to do such. "As you wish, Dynatos Tyr." For a brief moment, many ideas aas to how to answer swirl through Lauryn's head. Should she know-tow and use sweet words? Try and be maniuplative, flattering, or attempt to smooth over the worse aspects of her self? Straightforward? The Tyr and Archon answer for her, their manner a better direction than any tutor. She will be straightforward, seeking neither to dissemble nor manipulate; part because she thinks she would be utterly outmatched, and part because she feels a kind of ... honor? ... duty? ... instilled in her by Archon Skotonys to treat this god-prince with respect.
"I am Lauryn Eglantine, that is correct and true. Lauryn is my given name, and Eglantine my family name. My family is of the minor nobility -- akin to Kyrios of Laos Enosi -- though I am ... I am not sure there is a term for such a thing in the Laosian tongue, but 'impurely born,' a 'Gallah' in my tongue. A person of improper blood purity, and lesser because of it." Lauryn pauses a moment to think, but also to swallow the sting of having to refer to herself so. It always stings. "I fell from the sky, but not from a place of divinity. The sky-ship I was carried upon crashed upon Laosian lands, and I am the lone survivior." Here she pauses again, to catch her breath and allow the Tyr to speak if he wishes to do so.
Those blank dark eyes regard her as she speaks, even less revealing than Skotonys's impassive expression. Skotonys hasn't turned to regard her; he's still facing the tyr. His left ear pivots towards her as speaks, and it twitches when she identifies Egalantine as her family name. The tyr speaks: "I see. Your prodotis ways place the given name before the family." Although the words are perfectly neutral, the intonation carries a strong negative connotation -- disapproval? Disappointment? Condenscension? He obviously doesn't think much of the idea. "You are Ria Egalantine, then, in our fashion."
Then he waves a gloved hand to her. "Continue."
"I did not wish to trouble Archon Skotonys with the precision of naming; the Archon has done much for me, and my name means nothing if it is a burden to the Archon," explains Lauryn who's ears wilt. "If it pleases the Tyr, Ria Eglantine may be addressed as Ria Lauryn, or as the Tyr wishes; Ria Eglantine's name may be forgotten, 'for it has surely forgotten her." Taking a dep breath, Lauryn inclines her head again, pausing before she continues.
"Witch or thirys, both words have meaning for Ria Eglantine, and may be accurate in several senses of the words; these are words others have applied to Ria Eglantine, not her words, but perhaps correct. It is for the Tyr to judgel Ria Eglantine will speak of her power as evidence and bow to the label given her."
As she speaks, Lauryn wonders what lies behind those flat black eyes. Is there a man, with the weaknesses of man, with fears and nightmares, or a deity who harbors no weaknesses and knows no fear? How she would envy divine fearlessness, living as she does grasping the two-edged blade of nightmare. "Ria Eglantine walks with isityros; they came to her in her youth and have returned many times to taunt and harm her. But, Ria Eglantine may also call upon isityros, drive them, direct them -- a thing not done lightly. Ria Eglantine touches the mind of isityros, and isityros reach back; it is a tie of sorts. This power, Ria Eglantine calls her 'sword without a sheath,' and also 'hungry sword,' for the sword of isityros hungers for its wielder and enemy alike."
The tip of one of the tyr's ears flick when she speaks of her name, but he lets her continue without further comment. "Why do you believe the isityros come to you? Is it a sign of your ... 'impure blood', as you say?"
"No, Dynatos Tyr, 'for there are many of impure blood and Ria Eglantine has never heard of one like her. Ria Eglantine does not know why she bears this power, and so, cannot say," answers the Gallah. Her head tilts, and she frowns slightly. The idea she may bear her cursed power because she's ill-born is a disturbing thought for the young woman.
When she says 'no, dynatos tyr', there's a sharp intake of breath from the guards, a tensing of hands around weapons. Skottonys's ears and whiskers flatten. The tyr shows no such reaction. He makes a little negligent gesture with one hand, and the guards relax marginally. "Tell me of your parents," Tyr Notios commands. "Who were they? What were they? Describe them."
Lauryn's ears shoot up at the sudden tense reaction! She had anticipated denying the Tyr would be ill-idvised, but not that simply wording 'no' before addressing the god-prince would garber such a reaction. She eyes the guards, awaiting for the movements that signal her imminent demise, and preparing herself for her own defence -- and then the Tyr directs them to relax. Breathing a sigh of relief, she presses her head to the floor in apoligy. "Ria Eglantine apoligizes for her poor wording, Dynatos Tyr; she did not mean to imply the she denied Dynatos Tyr in any way." She then continues without further addressing the manner, taking the Tyr's dismissal as indication he does not wish to be further burdened by the matter.
"Ria Eglantine's father is a noble, a kyrios of the sky-city of Rephidim, and a pure-blood -- a Gallee. The Gallee are or many lines of pure blood, a people who maintain purity of breed as status and as a sign of superiority. Ria Eglantine's mother, Ria does not know well. Ria Eglantine knows she was a Gallah, a person impure blood and breeding, a lesser. While Ria's father performed noble duties and managed our house's wealth, Ria's mother was a simple maid, a servant of Ria Eglantine's father." Lauryn ponders what else the Tyr may wish to know, and more so, ponders why he would even care. How odd that this great man would care more about her family than she does. "Ria's father looks like Ria does, but with the proper color markings as fits the breed. Ria's mother is all black, of indeterminate breed, but Ria has heard she was beautiful."
The tyr asks a few more questions about the appearance of her parents, and the subject of breeds. He seems to be clarifying that her parents were of different bloodlines within the same species, rather than being of two different species entirely. Once he's satisfied on this count, he moves back to the subject of magic. "I have been told that you are working at controlling your isityros. Has this control improved since you arrived in my country? By how much? Do you believe you will continue to improve?"
It hadn't occured to Lauryn the Tyr wanted to know her parents were seperate breeds within the same species. She realizes she simply assumed he knew ... somehow, as the knowledge of Gallah and Gallee is so ground in to her that someone could not know about them didn't even register in her mind. Her ears skew at the thought, thinking how odd and how foreign she must seem. "Ria Eglantine has been practicing and refining her control with the help of Archon Skotonys, and Ria can say without doubt she has more control now than she ever has had in her life. Scant days ago, Ria Eglantine used her isityros against foes, with control if not precision. Archon Skotonys said Ria was useful in the conflict, and Ria believes the Archon's words." The Gallah allows herself a little smile; the Archon's faith and approval in her never ceases to make her feel a little better about her existance. "Ria Eglantine will continue to practice with Dynatos Tyr's blessing, and, well, cannot ever stop. The 'hungry sword' does n
... 'hungry sword' does not rest, and it always waits for weakness, and so Ria must keep struggling until isityros bow or Ria is no more."
The gold mask of the tyr dips in a nod. "You are a prodotis, Lauryn. You are not of my land, and you say that your arrival here was an accident. If you could choose to return to your sky-island, your people, would you? Or would you choose to stay here, among the Laos Enosi?" The unreadable, unblinking stare of the mask feels like a palpable weight upon her, boring into her. "Would you choose to serve me?"
"Even if Ria Eglantine knew the way home, Ria would not go there. There is nothing for Ria at home; Ria often thinks there is no place in which she may go and find peace. Ria Eglantine's family now are isityros and nightmares." The woman's ears wilt, and for a moment the sheer depressing weight of her words press down on her such that she fears she might break down then and there, before the Tyr and everyone. She squeezes her hands, fighting back the pain and the tears. She reminds herself of her successes since she arrived, of having helped save that woman, of Archon Skotonys's gentle yet distant patronage. Even if there is nowhere in the world where she might belong, at least in Laos, she has these small things -- and when one has nothing, small things are worth dying for.
Taking a deep breath to steady herself, Lauryn steadies her gaze and nods to the Tyr. She has never sworn an oath befoe, but she has read many in the records of countless nobles; now, it's her turn. "Ria would stay here, in Laos Enosi, if Dyantos Tyr will have her." Meeting the Tyr's gaze without looking away is a strain for Lauryn, somehow worse than the isityros. She thinks it must be the combination of not only strength and presence, but also virtue, a stare heavy with both power and judgement. The stare of a god. She steels herself, and presses on. "Ria would serve the Tyr with her life, or ... or her death, if Ria must die. Of anywhere, Ria would die here, for Dynatos Tyr, for the little gifts Laos has given her."
There's little visible reaction from the people around her to her oath, but Lauryn can sense Skotonys's approval. The tyr lifts his head slightly, the golden nose of the fox mask rising. "Then serve me you will, Lauryn. Rise." He gestures with one hand, and as she stands he continues to speak. "It is my wish that you overcome your isityros. Control them, Lauryn. Make them your weapon and your tool. Do not let them rule you. You have pledged your service to me, and you may serve no other master. Do you understand?"
"There is no other master Ria wishes to serve, Dynatos Tyr. Ria had hoped for this day, having heard and felt Archon Skotonys's great pride of his Tyr. Now Ria will share this pride, an honor Ria will will strive to be worthy of, imperfect though Ria is." The woman swallows, feeling a lump building in her throat. Only the Archon ever seemed to approve of her, and now a near-divinity is publically accepting her in to his service. This would be a great honor in Gallis, one she would never see. To have these strangers extend such an honor makes her feel heady and moved beyond words. She swallows again, and begins to speak, having to pause as the first syllable comes off higher and a little shakey than she wanted. It's a strain to speak clearly when your heart might burst. "The isityros will bow to Ria Eglantine in time, and Ria Eglantine bows to Dynatos Tyr." And so, the Gallah bows her head.
The mask watches her; the only sign of his approval is the dip of the tyr's head in a nod. But it is enough. He turns to Skotonys, and gestures to him as well. The archon stands at the tyr's bidding. "Amikitos, I charge you with this duty. Help Lauryn to master the powers she has been given, as you have already been helping her. I will have need of both of you in time. I must know then that I can trust not only your intention, but your ability."
Skotonys bows deeply. "As dynatos tyr wills, as it is."
Tyr Notios nods again. His jaw lowers for a moment as if to speak, then he turns beck to Lauryn. "Your family name does not suit you. I grant you a new one. You are Ria Vetyros Lauryn now."
Lauryn's ears shoot up, then go askew. While she hadn't expected any of this, the new surname catches her completly offguard. "T-Thank you, Dynatos Tyr," she stammers with great appreciation, bowing again. Not only has the Tyr given her a purpose and a home, he has freed her of her name, and thus, her family ties. Here in Laos, no one knows or cares what a Gallah may be, and with her name gone, it is as if a piece of her alloted destiny has been cut away and remade anew. "That is, Ria Vetyros thanks you, Dynatos Tyr. Ria ... " he voice catches and so, before she completly loses her grip, she bows again and says "thank you" once more.
The regal mask dips a final time in acknowledgement. "Diabaino." With that word, they are dismissed. Skotonys genuflects again, then paces backwards for half the length of the room and bows a last time, before departing with Lauryn.
Outside and alone with the Archon, Laurn suddenly grabs the man's arm tightly, stopping him from walking. She does'nt say a word for a long time, staring down the corridor as she struggles with her emotions. Finally, in a very choked voice, she whispers, "t-thank you, Archon, thank you." She doesn't look up, but does release the man's arm. As the walk on, the woman never looks up, but the Archon can see the tears run from her eyes even as she tries so hard to put on a strong face.