Epander 2.VII

And so here ends the second chapter featuring Epander. Thoughts? Comments? Questions? Really, about anything thusfar that I've written. No one really posts comments, so I just assume that everyone is smitten or doesn't read it. There is no inbetween. Also, I'm going to start on my doubling of posting next week. This week didn't work out for me. I'm terrible at blogging.

Also, I've decided to sort of put my writing/editing process into a few phases, the first of which being to simply get this written. As soon as I finish I'm going to rework my map and completely figure out the world. This means not only what places are like and which cultures are next to one another, but also the local flora and fauna of separate regions, such that I can put references to them in peoples food, among other things. I'd also want to better flesh out their cultures and even create a general timeline that goes back at least five hundred years. I want this to be a living, breathing world. I apparently hate myself.

Typhon was a slimmer, smaller man of dark skin and darker hair, immaculately cared for, silky and tied with a ribbon behind his head. One would think him almost boyish were it not be for the look in his eyes, where even when smiling held you at a distance, the look of a man distanced from the world. Perhaps he had seen far too much death for his own liking, being a General in a country whose wars knew no end. The other man was broad in the shoulders and perhaps too broad in the gut for his position. He wore his hair and beard alike shorter, both of which grey, going on white.

“The other two men here are Archons of premier importance.” He gestured to one man and then the next. “This is Diodoros Agathon, the Archon of public works to be built or maintained, such as this palace or the roads which stretch across the Empire. And lastly here is Philippos Herodes, the Archon of taxation. Tribute from all Satrapies are sent here, and he is responsible for them.” Diodoros had tanned skin, but a sandy blonde locks and green eyes, meaning that he must be of mixed blood with the barbarians from the north. Philippos was a tall, lanky man who kept a long, thin beard of black ringlets to match the rest of his body, with hooked nose and multicoloured cap on his head. Epander was actually somewhat surprised that they were so allowing of natives within the court; he had expected it to be somewhat more homogenous.

“At any rate, Epander Theophilos, you must be wearied from the day’s exertions. Come to court in the morning and labor shall be found for you to accomplish. You’ll be provided with lodgings pending you being able to uncover them of your own.” He turned to one of the many slaves bustling across the room, gesturing with cup still in hand, snapping the fingers of his other, “Pemptos, appropriate accommodations for our esteemed guest.”

The slave instantly set down what he was doing and began to approach, but was interrupted by Epander’s response, “And what of my slaves who have brought with me?”

Miltiades grinned, but there was no malice or insult in his expression as he answered, “Do not doubt the ability of poor Pemptos here. He will provide all that is necessary.” He paused for a moment before dismissing them such, “I look forward to seeing you work Epander. I trust your rest shall suit you this night. Farewell.” He turned once more to the men to which Epander had just been introduced, continuing the work which he toiled on before he arrived, and Epander himself followed the slave out of the door, out of the chamber.

Epander 2.VI

So, I moved into my new home last Sunday. I live in a house now. I must say that after not having my own place for a number of months, it is incredibly liberating to live on my own again. With any luck, this means that I'll be able to be more in the swing of getting some writing done. I would have posted sooner, but there was some trouble with getting the power/water/internet/etc all to work, so I've only been here since Wednesday. Unrelated to this, I've decided that I'm going to double the amount of posts that I do a week, but only on Sundays and Wednesdays will I put up fiction. Mondays I'll write about history and Fridays I'll write about writing. Hopefully you all will enjoy it.  Oh, and I had searched for "Persian and Greek" in Google image search, and this was one of the options. I couldn't not use it.

Epander was completely unaware of how he appeared to be, for Miltiades chortled and gave him a light smack in the chest, consoling him, “Don’t look so grim, mate.” But upon just a moment of a quizzical expression, he continued, “Though I do suppose it’s better that than glib, as Kaveh Kshaeta cannot help but to be. Come, allow me your introduction.” Having been unaware of his expression, he managed a slight blush on his olived skin, hoping that his opposite would take no notice.

As they began to walk back towards the others, Kaveh interjected, “I must insist that such jests, such jibes, are inexcusable to my person. You cannot continue down this path.”

Miltiades did not break his stride or his purpose as he retorted, “As I see is as I say, and I can do nothing but. I may speak only truths.”

“As I, from the age of six it was one of three things which I was taught that I must know to do. You speak only slander, trying for naught at truth.” He continued his gesticulation, but it almost seemed as though he was concurrently speaking a second language, invoking emotions with hands as well as words.

At this point, Miltiades did stop. He turned to the native man and musingly replied, “Well then, take your complaints up with the Basileus if you feel so strongly in this way.” A smug grin broke across his face as he said, the inference that he should derive from this Epander was not able to derive. Kaveh threw his head up and marched himself out of the room.

Once Kaveh had left the room, he continued, “His heart is in the right place, but his attitudes, platitudes, and pretensions are not. We may tire of one another, but we are both glad for one another. At any rate, I should introduce you to some of the other courtiers, those with whom I work most intimately.”

“I am, as Kaveh Kshaeta failed to indicate, I have no doubt, the Polemarch, and thus the foremost military figure in Arche Aigaios. Two of the Strategoi which whom I work most here are Androskles Hypatos and Typhon Pankratios. Typhon’s father, Kleitos Pankratios, is the administrator of the Satrapy in which we currently reside, so there is little doubt that you shall additionally treat with him soon enough .”

Epander 2.V

Well, I almost forgot to put this post up. For those of you outside of North Carolina (or the US southeast in general), we're having a sweeping snowstorm which is really nice for just staying in and relaxing. However, this is also being problematic for my moving tomorrow, which may not happen due to the snow. Between that and having trouble with setting up utilities, I might not be able to post this Sunday. But fear not, brave readers! Where I am able, I shall bring forth more things of me having written stuff.

Also, I just sort of noticed how many scenes that I have where people are naked. I don't think anyone is naked in this chapter, but there's at least a half dozen chapters which involve nudity. Also, only one of them involves any kind of sexual activity. [edit: two] I guess I just like to write about people dressing and doing things in the nude.

Miltiades upon the introduction strode round the massive map and brought himself up to Epander, clasping his hand to his opposite’s wrist, gripping his other hand upon his shoulder. His voice was somewhat hushed but somehow still had weight to it as he said, “Welcome then, Epander, to Aigaios on the Oxis. I trust your journey your journey was well?”

Epander smiled, almost wishing that he had to force it, but the smirk upon the other man’s face was contagious, or so it seemed, “As much so as could be, but the rigors of the road compare as naught against the comforts of the hearth; I trust you understand. But here at last I am, and nothing else remains.”

Miltiades clapped his hand once on Epander’s shoulder with a brusque laugh and then disengaged himself from him and began to walk back towards a table near the map and poured two cups, saying whilst he did so, “Most persons would have spat instinctively that they would have been ‘fine’ or ‘good.’ However, I suppose that most do not travel long distances away from their homesteads to become a courtier.” He held out a cup and inquired, “Why have you come so far from your kinsfolk to this service?”

Epander took the cup and promptly a swallow. It was mulled, the naturally sweet and bitter of the wine cut with spices, and was actually quite good. Surprisingly, it was not diluted. None of the men here seemed inebriated, so it was likely for flavor rather than refreshment. He replied, “Why does any man leave more honest professions for the ars politica, but to set aside himself as a service to his kinsfolk, to see that change needs to be wrought and act as that instrument of reform?”

The Strategos’s eyes glimmered as he casually chuckled; they glowed with divine knowledge, or so it would appear. So much tension, so much apprehension, it was all devoted to those individuals who held false façades as masks to hide away intention, but never would Epander have guessed that who he had need dread were not these as aforementioned, but those who veiled themselves behind only their own honesty, those who had nothing to hide. This man was dangerous, it was clear to see.

“Naïve idealism, it would seem, is what brought you here. Your words, nay, your idealism is flowered and honeyed, but I cannot yet tell if for its own sake or to hide the bitter stench of decay.” Miltiades swallowed a long yet shallow sip from his cup, only to approach abutting to Epander, looming over imposingly with a look of nothing short of malice glowering from his eyes. “If your intentions substantiate as anything less than pure, I will know. Remember this well, Epander Theophilos: my eyes are never given the dispensation of cessation, I am always watching.”

Epander 2.IV

As a completely random note, I'm really getting into Jojo's Bizarre Adventure. I haven't gotten into a show this much where I've just wanted to marathon the entire thing in quite some time, so it's pretty refreshing. The map in this scene is partially inspired by the one in Dragonstone in A Song of Ice and Fire, but I've seen plenty of improvised terrain mockups done in the Army where people have gotten very creative and made quite life-like representations in short amounts of time. Also, miniature wargaming.

It was carved wood and exhibited the gentle roll of the coastline, the impulsive juts of mountain and hill. Artisans had come to paint the lands such as they were purported to be, and moss brought to grow in where forests may lay. Miniature cities erupted across every land, itself scarred by the interweaving of roads. Paramount in importance, figurines of men, horse, and ship alike stood silent vigil over their diminutive domiciles, the whereabouts of every army in Arche Aigaios were right there, as well as those informed to have been by the other nations of the world. The circle of the world met with the marble flooring, what lay beyond a yet still enigmatic.

As he drew in the world by means of his eyes, Kaveh performed another dance, a bow similar to the one which he had been greeted with, and loudly exclaimed, “Epander Theophilos of Khatria, I present you to Strategos Miltiades Nikandros.” He motioned towards Epander and added, “He is the prospective courtier with whom you were to acquaint with.”

Multitudes of men bustled about, but it was clear to whom he was addressing. It was not that he was the only one to wear a chiton of saffron bordered with crimson and a belt of gold amongst most of the others who adorned themselves in clothing of an insipid colour; he was encircled by a retinue of men also outfitted in finer fabric. No, it was his stature, it was the command that he exuded; how the attention of the entire room was drawn to him, either wittingly so or not. The Strategos was a taller man of black, wavy hair, pale skin, and bright green eyes. It was his eyes that did it most of all, and his smirk which appeared as though it scarce fled his lips. It bled with compassion and sincerity, a violent juxtaposition to the first man which he had met.

Epander 2.III

Apologies for missing my post on Sunday, but it was the Superbowl and my roommates were hosting others to come over. Long story short, they made a bunch of Jello shots and I was in no condition to put up an entry here. In other life news for me, I'm going to be moving this upcoming Friday (2-14) and so I should not miss an update because of it, but be forewarned that I may.

He sensed that the man could tell, responding in a short manner only, “Very well.” Turning completely about on his heel, he strode briskly from the room, leaving Epander only to do the same, taken slightly off-guard and trailing behind at first, with his slaves scurrying swiftly behind.

They walked through further halls, seeming to take forever. The magnificence of the palace was extraordinary, matched only by its mass. That being said, his heart pounded and his mind raced, his escort making no effort at conversation for the entirety of the excursion, certainly doubling the time that every step took, if not worsening it more so. How the heart does betray one, how bitter anxieties tear at one’s fettered and frayed nerves, only to compound upon themselves both again and again. You have been able to face fearsome men and ferocious beasts alike with lance in hand, yet now here you stride in a citadel of bureaucracy, and this is what you fear? Smiles of gnashed teeth? Courtesies of hollow intent? What manner of craven are you?

The hallways and passages stretched on forevermore, the vestibules and antechambers stretched on forevermore; they seemed to be without relent, without mercy. His apprehensions appeared to additionally unravel, as though the goddess Phronema herself was wrapping her fingers through his mind and stretching it thin into filaments, tatters abandoning him to the floor with every step he took. Alas, where the heart may fail; alack, where the mind may fail; one has nothing left to him but his own resolve to compel him on to deeds which both heart and mind alike counsel him against. This is the true nature of courage. All one has left is the gods to guide him.

As though the gods were waiting for him to manage his mettle, a trial placed before him, they came to where the need end, and with that destination came his resolution. The chamber itself was great, many pillars lining its edge, all marble of a jade complexion, their plinths and capitals alike gilded in silver. At least the walls and floors are merely a white marble. How quaint of them, lowering themselves to this poverty. The majority of the room itself was occupied by a massive irregular mound, which at first obfuscated its proper nature. It was a map.