Ishmael stands as Cassius enters the room. "Good evening, Imphadi," he offers, using the Varati term of respect. "Good of you to join us."

Mildly irked at being kept waiting, Cassius nevertheless pastes on a faint smile and tips his head as he enters behind Jered. "Archon," he says, addressing Cepheus. His cool blue eyes rest on Ishmael, and to him he gives no greeting but a stiff nod.

Ishmael looks back to Cepheus, waiting for the Archon to take command of the situation.

Cepheus rises out of his seat, nodding politely to Cassius. He smiles faintly, "Good day, Lord Augustus. Thank you for coming."

"Of course," Cassius answers easily, folding his wings along his back with a quiet, feathery rustle. He casts his gaze about the room briefly before returning it to Cepheus. "I assume my servant still resides here?"

Ishmael raises a shaven brow at that assertion, but says nothing, still gazing at Cepheus expectantly.

Cepheus smirks faintly, "Indeed, an accused slave still resides here." He lowers himself into his chair, motioning that you both have the option of doing the same. It takes a short time for him to get his wings situated in a comfortable position. "Now, what of your claim?"

"I told you the other evening in the Pantheon," Cassius answers, remaining where he is and declining the unspoken invitation to sit. "She is an escaped servant of mine. I would appreciate having her returned." His tone remains cordial, yet there is a slight edge of annoyance to it nonetheless.

Ishmael rumbles, "Interesting, Imphadi." He turns slightly to face Cassius. "How did a slave from your entourage obtain clothing from a Varati harem?"

Cepheus shifts in his seat, not actually mirroring the question himself in speech, but looking to Cassius for a reply. Apparently, he too is curious about the answer.

"I assume," answers Cassius, without even turning to regard Ishmael, "That she obtained such clothing while here in Haven. It would not be difficult."

Ishmael chuckles dryly. "Wouldn't it? Then did she just slip past the Agni-Haidar guarding our harem to obtain the clothes she wears even now." He pauses. "She must be a slave of considerable skill, considering your Empyrean soldiers have never managed to get past the guardians of the Amir-Al."

Cepheus speaks up, "Gentlemen, please. I would prefer this situation not to grow past the scope of this session." He waits for quiet to return.

"I cannot imagine why they would wish to," Cassius murmurs, his tone bordering on scorn. "As for her clothing, I had assumed such garb could be procured in one of the many market-stalls in the Rialto."

Ishmael nods, growing quieter. "You would have assumed incorrectly, Imphadi." He pauses. "Those specific silks are only available, and woven in, the harem of the Amir-Al. Specifically for the servants of Atesh-Gah." He turns to Cepheus. "I claim the slave in the name of the Khalid Atar."

Cepheus nods at Ishmael, "So noted, and Cassius, your claim remains?"

Only now does Cassius turn to study Ishmael. His eyes are narrowed and cold, ice-blue in their intensity. A delicate sneer curls his lip. "Do you not think that your 'Amir-al' has enough concubines to liven his harem? Is one more mongrel really necessary?" Without lowering his gaze, he answers Cepheus. "Yes, my claim remains."

Ishmael looks at Cassius as if from a great distance, but a fire has started to blaze in that far-away place. "Imphadi. Are you insinuating that my King has relations with mongrels?" His hand has quietly settled on the hilt of his thick sword.

Cepheus gets slightly agitated and stands up behind his desk, saying rather forcefully, "Gentlemen!" He rests his palms on his desk. "Enough of this."

Eyes of ice widen in feigned ignorance. "Doesn't he?" Cassius asks. "After all, an immortal 'god' must have a wide range of... tastes."

The temperature of the room climbs several notches very suddenly as Ishmael draws himself to his full height. "Empyrean..." he rumbles, still in that distant, curious tone. "Do you wish to die here, today?"

Cepheus rephrases, voice rising in volume, "One more word from either of you and your claims will be void, enough of this worthless bickering."

Cassius blinks several times, looking from Ishmael to Cepheus. "My apologies, Archon. But then, I was not the one issuing death threats." He maintains his serene demeanor--the only hint of any tension apparent in the set of his wings and shoulders.

The heat bubble suddenly bursts, and cool air rushes in to fill the room. Ishmael looks at Cassius through brows furrowed so deeply they threaten to engulf his eyes. Still, he speaks to the Archon when he says, dryly and quietly, "My apologies, Archon. Let us resolve one matter at a time.

Ishmael continues, "No evidence has been presented to support any claim of ownership other than my own. Would you agree?"

Cepheus states, very forcefully, "I do not wish to have either of my distinguished guests removed from this office by force, or under guard. Do not make me resort to such tactics on two people who are BOTH of far better blood then the sort who require such things." His voice softens, "No sit down and we will resolve this." For now, he ignores Ishmael's question, and he waits.

Ishmael steps back, away from Cassius, and pulls his chair along with him. Once he gets about twice the distance he previously stood from the Empyrean, he sits down, leaning back into the chair, and resting one hand on his brow, glaring at Cassius through still furrowed brows. "Please continue, Archon," he rumbles.

"I prefer to stand, if it is all the same to you," Cassius answers evenly. Aside from the rigidity in his shoulders, he is otherwise calm and composed. He does not look at Ishmael any more than is necessary. "Now, I must admit that I have no proof of ownership. The girl was a new addition to our household. We had not had a chance to draft the document claiming her as property--she escaped before then. You have only my word."

Ishmael, without taking his eyes from Cassius, adds, "You have my word, and logical evidence. I would also guess that an inspection of her collar would reveal it to be Varati ironwork."

Cepheus nods at Cassius, "Very well." He glances toward Ishmael, "Indeed. We may go and look now, if you wish."

"Hardly conclusive," Cassius remarks. "As most iron-made things are of Varati origin."

Cepheus smirks at this, rolling it over in his head. He waves a hand, "Now, we have a paradox here. You both claim ownership, and it would seem that there is little or no conclusive evidence to back up the opposing claims...."

Ishmael still glares at Cassius as he answers. "True. But the collars of slaves from Atesh-Gah are marked by our smith, who would not be doing work for anyone but the Amir-Al and myself."

Cassius levels a piercing glare upon Ishmael--revealing a brief crack in his facade of calm. He is angry. But he disguises it well, and his tone is modulated when he says, "Very well then. Check her collar." He looks over at the Archon. "I suppose you will do the honors."

Ishmael says nothing, languorously draped in the chair, his eyes burning coals of fury that have not dimmed down.

Cepheus nods, "It think we have a start to a resolution." He looks over at Jered, the young Hound who has been lingering at the door. The Hound looks nervous and stiff as a board in the present company, but Cepheus speaks to him anyway. "Jered, get the girl from the cell, please."

Jered nods, and disappears through the door into the Holding Area. Jered returns, Sonya in tow.

Sonya is dragged in by the Hound, and glares at all of you.

Cepheus looks over at Sonya, "Come over here, mongrel." He waves the girl over.

Sonya goes over to Cepheus.

Sonya looks at Cepheus, "I have a name."

Sonya looks around the room.

Cassius is standing in front of the Archon's desk, wings folded neatly behind him, his expression composed. He glances up as Sonya is led into the room. Neither pleasure nor displeasure are glimpsed on his face.

Sonya looks at Cassius.

Sonya then looks at Ishmael.

Ishmael sits in a chair, leaning back, glaring at Cassius. Sonya doesn't even seem to exist to him. His composed features are betrayed by a deep frown as his eyes bore into the Empyrean noble.

Sonya looks at Cepheus.

Sonya lowers her head a little bit.

Cassius, on the other hand, acts as if Ishmael and his burning gaze are inconsequential. His cold blue eyes rove over Sonya with a detached kind of interest, then switch over to the Archon to await his 'verdict.'

Sonya looks between Cassius and Ishmael, glares at each of them.

Cepheus nods, "I am sure you do, but at the moment, that is not the issue." He smirks at the girl, "Now, we need to have a look at your.... ornaments." He grabs hold of the metalwork and drags her a little closer to inspect for the stamp of the Khalid.

Sonya moves closer to Cepheus and shivers nervously as he inspects her.

Cassius' arms rest at his sides. He is silent and unmoving, but for the tiny telltale hint of agitation--the fingers of his right hand are tapping restlessly against his thigh.

Kita steps in from the entry.

Sonya smiles softly at Kita.

Ishmael doesn't spare Kita a glance as she enters the room, leaning back in a chair, and frowning intently at Cassius.

Cassius is standing in front of the Archon's desk, watching Cepheus inspect Sonya's collar and awaiting his pronouncement. He seems composed and calm, but for the relentless tapping of his right fingers against his thigh.

Sonya looks at the Empyrean, then looks at the Varati, and shivers as another enters the room.

Sonya looks towards Cassius, shivering a bit more, wondering what's in store for her.

Kita slips into the office, pausing at the entrance at the crowd occupying it.

Cepheus leans in closer toward Sonya, trying to make out the stamp on the metal work which restrains some of her movements. The Archon smirks, and sits up a little too fast. This would seem to indicate it is a symbol that is not foreign to him. He glances at Cassius and leans back in to have another look.

Sonya lowers her head.

Cassius' blue-eyed gaze flickers from what can be glimpsed of Sonya's collar up to the Archon. He arches one silver brow.

Ishmael finally allows his gaze to leave Cassius, and looks over to Cepheus, just by moving his eyes. His body is held still.

Cepheus squints at the tiny stamp, moving his head slightly to get a better angle. He calmly sits back up, releasing the mongrel and motioning for Kita to come over and take charge of her. He sits back in his chair and ponders for a moment.

Ishmael lets his gaze wander back to Cassius as Cepheus resumes sitting. His brow is somewhat less furrowed, but his dark eyes still glitter as he peruses the Empyrean.

"The suspense is excruciating," remarks Cassius dryly. "Pray deliver us from it, Archon."

After a moment, Kita steps to the side out of the doorway, staying against the wall.

Sonya raises her head up to look at Cassius briefly, lowers it again and takes a deep breath.

Cepheus smirks faintly, eyeing Ishmael for a moment, "The stamp is badly damaged, be it that it was purposely defaced, or not." He glances over at Sonya, "But, enough of it remains that I can make out the fact that this is a slave of an Empyreal house."

Cepheus adds, "I was not able to do so before due to the filth that was evident on this.... person." He smirks at Sonya.

Ishmael nods, slowly and surely, and stands. "My thanks, Archon. I shall have to discover where she gained garb of our harem from." He pauses, deep in thought for a moment.

Sonya looks at Cepheus, smiles slightly at him at for calling her a person, and lowers her head again, taking in a deep breath.

Ishmael looks up at Cassius, and says, "It would seem you were quite correct in your claim, Imphadi." He turns, looking out the door as if to depart, but holding still for a moment.

Cassius' eyebrows lift, and he abruptly stops his tapping. For that split-second, he looks almost surprised. Then his face settles into an easy smile. "Thank you, Archon, for gracing us with your just decision." His tone holds the faintest note of sarcasm, and he glances over at Ishmael. "It would seem so. I trust your Amir-al will be able to find another suitable... replacement."

Cepheus stands slowly himself, nodding to Ishmael. "I appreciate your.... restraint in this matter." His face is serious, and honest. "Please don't forget what we discussed before?" He looks at Cassius, "She is yours, I apologize for any inconvenience her stay here might have caused, Lord Augustus."

Ishmael nods to Cassius' and Cepheus' words, saying, "I'm sure he will." He pauses, then turns back to Cassius, stepping closer to him. "And, Cassius...?" he remarks, using the Empyrean's given name for the first time.

Cassius' eyes go half-lidded, narrowing at the Varati's familiarity. "Yes?" he asks curtly.

Ishmael suddenly launches a massive fist in Cassius' gut, stepping into the Empyrean and obviously putting as much force as he can muster behind the blow.

Sonya looks shocked, and looks around for someplace to hide.

The air is ripped from Cassius' lungs in a startled exclamation, and the elderly Empyrean stumbles halfway across the room, doubled over, his wings fanning out protectively. He drops down to one knee, head sagging, cradling an arm over his abdomen.

Ishmael remarks, just before chaos ensues, "Speak ill of my God again, and I will slay you. Consider yourself warned." He stands stock-still, waiting for the inevitable exclamations.

Kita's eyes widen and she presses against the wall, a dagger appearing in each hand. After a moment, the weapons disappear again, and she only watches Ishmael.

Cassius can't even draw in breath to speak. He's panting, his pale face red with the effort of breathing. Yet he does manage to lift his head an inch or two, to glare up at Ishmael through pain-glazed eyes.

If the Archon is surprised by this, he hardly shows it. But his reaction is instant, and in one smooth motion he hops over the desk and lands close to Ishmael and the crumpled Empyrean. At first, he makes no move towards the elder Empyrean, but instead growls, "This office will not be a battle ground between you two."

Cepheus looks at Ishmael, grey eyes cold and stern, "Good /eve/, Envoy." It carries with it a lot more then the words alone say, and wrapped neatly with those three words is more of a demand then anything. One would have to be mighty oblivious to not realize this is a request for the Varati to leave for now.

Ishmael turns to Cepheus. "My apologies, Archon. There are things which I cannot, in good conscience, allow to pass. I will take my leave of you now." He bows his head slightly to Cepheus, and then turns and strides from the room, head held high.

Ishmael steps out to the entry.

Cassius' pale eyes roll over to Cepheus as he struggles to stand. By now, he's recovered his voice, and rasps an incredulous "'Good... *eve*..?!'" It is probably one of the first times in years that the Aegian has ever raised his voice.

Cepheus grabs hold of the older Empyrean's shoulder--for a moment it might look like he is about to take a swing at the man. Instead, he simply helps the man into an upright position. He states nothing for the moment, waiting to see how much the old man explodes.

Kita steps again along the wall away from Ishmael as he leaves, then turns her attention on the Empyreans.

With one arm still curled gingerly across his abdomen, Cassius jerks away from Cepheus the moment the Hound touches him. "'Good *eve*?'" he repeats, absolutely livid. "That... damned *barbarian* just accosted me, and all you have to say is 'Good eve?'" He is not quite yelling, though it's not far off, and his normally modulated tones are shaking with fury. "You, an Empyrean. And you let a cursed *Varati* strike a member of the Aegis, your *own government*, and allowed him to walk off unscathed?! Wars have started for less than this! And you can be *certain* that this is not the end of it!"

Sonya curls up under the bench she is hiding under, shivers hard, breathes quickly.

Sonya looks out from under her bench.

The Archon's eyes quickly narrow, and in a matter of seconds his demeanor goes from passive to aggressive. When he speaks, his voice is both forceful and high in volume, "/You/ are yelling at /me/ about starting wars after you and that Varati almost killed each other over a matter of words when this incident started." If the Empyrean Archon could breathe fire, it would probably be happening now, "This office is not here so wars may be started in it, as an observer might think from the behavior both you /and/ the Varati exhibited. A punch to the gut is NOTHING compared to what might have happened had I allowed your dialogue with him earlier to continue, or had retaliated against him just now. Does your bruised pride blind the common sense I know you have?"

Kita ignores Sonya, stepping out into the room towards Cepheus, eyes on Cassius.

Sonya crawls back under the relative safety of the bench and curls up as tight as she can.

Cassius advances on Cepheus, displaying a rare physical aggression. Were it not for the expression of narrowed-eyed fury on the aging patriarch's face, it might look almost comical--his slight form going nose-to-nose with the Archon. "I was *civil*," he hisses, "as any half-wit could see. Furthermore, that *Varati*--" he spits the word as if it were a poison "--is a liar on top of a barbarian. She," he adds, thrusting a figure towards Sonya's crawling form, "was never his, or his 'Amir-al's,' to begin with. You have insulted me, the government I represent, and our race as a whole by allowing him to walk out of here unharmed." He straightens, easing back, and dropping his voice to a harsh growl. "Or should I say *my* race? It is obvious you have forsaken it."

Cepheus growls back at the older Empyrean with an equally surprising aggression, not actually touching Cassius, but leaning back toward him. "How /dare/ you question my motives and intentions?!" The anger in his voice has grown even more, and he is starting to get a little red in the face, "Have you forgotten that I was raised in one of /our/ noble houses, by one of your fellow Aegis members?! I am in this position to bring honor and pride to our people, and that is not compatible with causing a war through blatant retaliation of a childish physical attack. I highly doubt my Aunt would even suggest for a minute that you taking a punch to avoid war is an unwise choice. For one so wise, I am surprised you let your anger speak for you."

Sonya curls up against the wall, shivering.

Kita stops close enough to Cepheus to show where her loyalties are. She still says nothing, however, only watching Cassius.

Cassius has regained his composure by now, and his face is once more its habitual impassive mask, but for the icy anger still lurking in his eyes. "No," he pronounces. "I find it ridiculous that our deceased Emperor ever tried to make peace with them. Until I receive a public apology from the Envoy of the Varati, I will do everything in my power to see to it that the Empyre withdraws any and all support from Haven--that negotiations are ceased between us and the Varati... and that the war--which you and all the other pathetic fools in this city are trying so hard to avoid by bowing and scraping to every whim of that aberration they call a 'god'--comes to pass." He squares his shoulders, then motions to Sonya still cowering beneath the bench. "See to it that she is brought to the Palladium. You will hear from me again, Archon." His mouth turns down in a scowl. "And it will not be pleasant."

With that, Cassius swivels on his heel and prepares to depart.

Sonya crawls out from under the bench after she sees everything calm down again.

Sonya dusts herself off.

Perhaps more surprisingly than his anger before, Cepheus somehow manages to smile faintly as Cassius spits his final remarks at him. "I will make sure she arrives there.... and I have no doubt of that, Lord Augustus." He watches Cassius gather himself, "I apologize for the contact, perhaps you will somehow manage to see it from my point of view."

"I only pray you are able to see it from mine," Cassius retorts over his shoulder as he steps out of the room.

FIN

More Logs