Date: July 26, 2000 (Aether: November 4, 3906)
Place: Aegis Chamber - Basilica Justinia - Civitas Dei
Cast: Agrippina (Thalia II), Aristedes, Cassius, Cepheus, Claudius, Creon (Nox), Kalypso, Leonidas, Linus (Mariham), Magnus, Nimbus (Melissa), Phineas (Jana), Venus, Vertinius
Emits: Generic (Cassius), Nero, Livus, Basilius, Maximus Livus, and Claudia Jovia Antonius (Thalia)
Scene: The Aegis has been convened in order to vote about the current feud brewing among the Varati kingdoms and Avalon, and whether or not the Empyre should involve itself.

Aegis Chamber - Basilica Justinia - Civitas Dei:
      The chamber of the Aegis is a grand theatre, with banks of cushioned chairs sweeping around in a semicircle -- tier upon tier of them, for the five hundred members that make up this assembly. Instead of a stage, however, there is a dais and podium at the focus of the semicircle, where the Princeps typically oversees the debates that ring through this hall.
      Nooks in the wall house either statues of noble ancestors, or Praetorians in purple-and-gold glittering armor, here to guard the august body that comprises the bulk of Empyreal government. The very top ledge of the chamber, meanwhile, is reserved for the gods: Tritonia, armored, with her owl on her shoulder peering down over those who debate below; Apollo, master of magic and light, a model of the Celestial City cradled in his hands; Aidoneus, stern and forbidding, a reminder of eternity; Quirinus, spear upraised in one hand and shield held ready in the other; Tyche, invoked as a blessing, her hair tossed as if captured by capricious winds; and the Kronian, gazing down across the room as a whole, to where his symbol is captured in a tile mosaic upon the floor -- a glorious eagle with wings outspread, one talon clutching the sizzling spear of a bolt of lightning.

In the midst of preparations for the harvest festival to honor Cybele, other preparations were being made, as well. Messengers flew far and wide across the Empyre, carrying the news of an Aegian assembly at Civitas Dei. There was only a couple of weeks' notice before the Princeps issued an order to meet at the venerable structure known as the Basilica Justinia -- the hall of the Aegis.

And now they come -- nearly five hundred of the Empyre's most prominent and influential politicians. Clad in their "toga pictas" -- their robes of office, each with a purple clavus dyed into the fabric to signify their status, the Aegians gather in the grand chamber of the basilica. There is some chatter and conversation as they settle into their seats, but not much; the reasons for this assembly are grave. Rumors of another war loom on the horizon, and the Aegis has been convened in order to decide the Empyre's course of action, and whether or not it will involve itself in the feud brewing among the Varati kingdoms and Avalon.

The elite Schola of the Praetorian Guard stand sentry in the chamber, garbed in their glittering armor and purple chlamydes. They are here to guard their charges, to ensure that the debates do not degenerate into petty squabbling, and to prevent another insurrection -- the likes of which caused the death of the last Emperor, Lucian Deiepetes, as well as a number of Aegians, over two years ago.

The noise such an august gathering of Empyreans creates, even with voices kept pitched to a murmur, is still overwhelming, or nearly so. With the rustling of robes, shifting of feathers and rumble of the chorus of voices, it is a wonder that anyone can think, or debate, at all.

It is into the middle of this throng that Leonidas invites himself, followed by his own fistful of Schola, who take up positions at the cardinal points of the clearing left in the Basilica's center for the Princeps. It's there that he stands, while the last of the Aegians find and take their seats, and it's from there that he speaks.

"Dei. Deae. Dominii and Dominae. It is with great honor, and with all duty, that I hereby convene this meeting of the Empyreal Aegis. By your good graces, I stand here as Princeps, and with your good wills and patience, I will here oversee your debate."

"And a worthwhile debate, esteemed colleagues, it is. I trust that you have all received the scroll sent out by our colleague, Deus Augustin, regarding the news we have of Varati movement. I trust that you have read that same scroll, and that you have come here, today, to share your minds, and your wishes with us, in good faith.

"Should there be any among you who have not read Deus Augustin's report, I relay to you the essence of his findings: Our Praetorians, being excellent scouts, have sent back word that there are Varati moving into and occupying the Arelate province. If you will recall, that province was a subject of our treaty with the Varati, after the last war. In said treaty, it was established that Arelate would remain a free province, under neither Empyreal nor Varati control, but to become a free-man's nation, now to be called Avalon.

"In conference with the Queen of the Varati nation, Deus Augustin further reports that neither she, nor their God-King, have ordered Varati into Arelate, or Avalon if you will. There was some ... dissension, it would seem, over how much our brother nation, by marriage, was willing to reveal, but the end remains the same: they claim no forces were sent to Avalon.

"You may, too, have heard rumors of dissent further within the nation. That the Varati are, themselves, on the brink of a civil war. That some of their great number stand poised to strike at the very heart of the nation, their God-King himself."

Leonidas pauses as a ripple of raised voices goes through the Aegis, then he holds up a hand, asking silence. When things have quieted, he turns the hand palm up. "And that, worthy Aegians, is why we are gathered here. If there is a war brewing, which of you would say that we should help in driving the Varati halves apart? Which of you would sue for peace, and further bonds of fellowship with the Varati? Consider, and tell us all, what you would have us do."

Quiet is she, the young matriarch of Tritonis. Kalypso sits in the midst of the others, the expression on her face a neatly controlled mask -- nearly devoid of emotion, save a small, cool smile that lightly turns up the corners of her mouth. She sits not near any particular Aegian, certainly not by those who normally align themselves with her House. Perhaps she is making a statement -- perhaps she merely arrived late and could not find a seat elsewhere. At any rate, she listens to the words of the wise (and handsome) Princeps, hands folding on her lap as she shifts in her seat. Getting more comfortable. For she expects the long-winded ones to jump up to speak their pieces first.

The grave mood of this debate outweighs the sheer excitement the young Schola feels for the event on hand. With her formal dress and full weaponry, Venus takes her post near the entrance door to the chamber. Her face has no expression, her posture is strong and her attention and soul are focused on the safety of the Aegians in the room. The Princeps' words strike a chord with the Schola, darkening her features as the term "war" is invoked in such bold tones. Her posture loses just a bit of its enthusiasm, and her hand tenses on the hilt of her sword.

Agrippina Valeria Juventas, the Dea of House Juventas, has seated herself near House Augustus, showing where her House's alliances once lay. The old matriarch of Juventas does not look a day over sixty, with her silver wings and coiffed hair of burnished grey, yet it is known that she is past seventy. Hale and hearty, her clothing matches her hair, being grey, showing that she continues to mourn her Deus, but will not be joining him any time soon. Her eyes are cold within the strong face which could only be called handsome, but deadly alert, like that of a snake, missing nothing.

Dour and solemn, the Aegian representative of House Fortuna slowly relaxes back into his seat, wings drifting outward to convey relaxation amongst the sea of grim-faced, avian personas. Phineas' gaze seems to roam about the crowd with the idle laziness of a daydreaming schoolboy in the midst of a boring class. However, once the Princeps actually begins to speak, he leans forward. Attention drawn down to the younger man, he listens with a tightening to his thin lips.

Claudius sits in this chamber for the first time, filling in for the ailing Iolanthe Areides. His steel-grey eyes burn with a cold fire as he hears the words of the Princeps. He seems somewhat worn, and with good reason: he has just come from the front lines of the Praetorian force closest to the current conflict in Arelate.

Seated near the venerable old matriarch of House Juventas, Cassius Augustin listens in silence as Leonidas' speech draws to a close. His pale eyes rove over those gathered, searching their faces for some hint as to the thoughts that roil within his colleagues' minds.

Vertinius watches the Princeps with cool attention, one eyebrow just slightly arched as he listens. Then, he, too, allows his gaze to wander across those seated within the vast chamber, the stolid lines of his face untouched by expression or consideration.

Leonidas draws a breath and speaks again. "In the interests of opening the floor, I would ask that the representative from our Emperor's great House rise, and address us first. Houses Acesius," he goes on, with a nod toward that representative, and another toward his wife, "and Tritonis, are invited to speak thereafter. And should there be any left unscathed after those three have said their pieces," the Princeps says with uncharacteristic humor, "we will move forward. House Jove, if you will."

Creon Alexandrus Thyriades watches the introduction somberly, his gaunt face stern, lips drawn to a tight lip and eyes focused. He has taken a seat not right with the major Houses, but among the third row. Despite the fact that he has prepared himself to raise his voice today, he knows that his own rank has decreased quite a bit since the end of the war.

Three pedarii cronies, Nero, Livus and Basilius, murmur among themselves after the Princeps has made his opening statement, then begins to call Aegians forward to speak.

Agrippina Valeria Juventas has, in her lap, a sheaf of papers, suggesting that she has prepared a speech for this occasion. Yet, she also produces a pen and holds it in the wrinkled folds of her right hand. With a back as straight as a poker, the silver glints in her wings glitter dangerously as the woman clenches her teeth at needing to wait for the major Houses to speak first.

Among the gathering of aged faces that make up the majority of the reverent body, the representative for Hyperion, long known for their service in the Praetorian Guard, seems quite at ease while dulled whispers surround him. Linus Hyperion watches the podium with subtle interest as a rough hand runs over the short crop of silver hair on his head. His pale eyes briefly turn toward Vertinius who sits nearby, but the Acesian is the only one to gain his gaze before returning it to the podium for the Jovian's assessment.

He is amongst the many, of no particular note and striving in no way to make himself known to them. Magnus Aurelius Jove, in the absence of Deus and Aegian, sits quietly, sharp, silver eyes measuring up each of the other participants in turn with a keen edge like that of a newly-whetted blade. Called upon, however, he does not hesitate to rise and speak, his light baritone pitched to carry to all ears just loudly enough that they must actually listen to catch every word.

"There are many avenues open to us, at this time, each leading to gains and losses that must be measured, one against the other so that we might find the path that is most profitable for the Empyre, and most costly for any that might walk counter to our desires. It is undoubtedly true that the Varati are in conflict, and many might see this as an opportune moment to strike while they are distracted. However, should we rouse the ire of either faction, or worse, draw enough attention that they lay aside their quarrel once more to focus upon the danger we present, it would lead to most disastrous consequences."

Magnus draws a long breath, gaze darting from one person to the next as he speaks. "However, I cannot say that we should remain outside this matter entirely. It seems to me that the wisest course is to seek council with those of this Avalon, itself. If they should request our aid, perhaps it can be presented so that they may take the brunt of any hostile action. At the same time, for our efforts, land might be reclaimed of the lost Arelate."

Venus's eyes sweep casually over the room's leaders and then to Magnus. She squints in confusion as the reality of the situation sinks in, and then her eyes go to find the comforting image of her grandfather Claudius. Grey eyes stare blankly, off into the distance, before her will returns her to her post.

Three additional Schola creep in from the shadows and find uniform places throughout the auditorium. Venus tips her head politely to them, watching their formation, and then focuses again on the Aegians.

It takes a while for Nimbus to climb his way carefully to the correct seat in the hall, the portly merchant Dominus pausing every so often to catch his breath and to exchange nods of greeting with allies among the other Commoner houses, or contacts he's made among nobles. Finally, he settles into a seat, emitting a relieved puff of breath and tugging the folds of his toga into some semblance of elegance over his treetrunk-like thighs.

Wings rustle and stir in hushed whispers as Aristedes, representing Thanatos while Leonidas has the unenviable task of mediator, shifts within his seat and leans forward with interest. An elbow rests on his leg just beside a haphazard stack of notes, chin rubbing against the inside of his wrist with the motion that seems almost akin to an absent nod to Magnus' words. An unconsciously held breath is released as the representative of Jove pauses, pensive eyes drifting up to consider the rows of seats about him.

Plain-spoken, once his piece is done, Magnus simply closes his mouth and sits again, becoming no more than one more member of this body. His arms cross slowly and he looks to Leonidas briefly and nods, as if to confirm that he has no more to say unless bidden to do so.

Leonidas nods once to Magnus, then lets his gaze wander. "Well spoken, dominus. Are there any who would challenge Jove's right to the words they have spoken?"

All through the speech delivered by the Jovian Aegian, Phineas is silent and contemplative. A thick finger rises to rub at his lip. Eyes narrow to scan the crowds for dissenters, but a tap upon his shoulder draws his attention momentarily away. Leaning back, lowly muttered words and grunts are exchanged with a colleague. Other than this small movement, all is silent and still from Fortuna.

Someone from the back -- no telling who it might be -- calls out disparagingly, "Who runs Jove? A true Empyrean, or that pawn the God-King gave us for an Empress?"

Nero murmurs a few words to Livus while Basilius leans in. Few words escape the close press of the bodies, and those which do are rendered confusing given the lack of context. "...coward...reasonable."

Kalypso remains quiet in her seat, face still expressionless at the words of Magnus. Her time will come.

Creon turns to his neighbor, grumbling something about 'seeking council with a slave,' but does not openly challenge Magnus' speech. Yet his words are loud enough to be heard by the surrounding seats.

At the disparaging words, Magnus does not flinch. In fact, he does not even seem to move but for those too-sharp eyes that seek out the speaker and mark him for later. This is not the time for open debate, after all.

Cassius's wings rustle in mild agitation, and he cranes his neck to glance back over his shoulder toward where some of the grumbling originated. He himself remains quiet, his pale eyes unreadable.

Agrippina mutters an insult under her breath, soft enough that perhaps only Cassius can clearly hear her say, "Spineless slug."

Leonidas calls back, to the faceless challenger, "The matter at hand, dominus, is the Varati presence in Arelate; not the qualities, for good or ill, of our Emperor and Empress." That's all the censure Leonidas seems prepared to give. Instead, he turns to seek out Acesius' representative, and nods toward Vertinius. "House Acesius, if you will."

Vertinius turns his gaze towards the anonymous remark, wry amusement obvious in the slight twitch of his mouth, before inclining his head respectfully to Leonidas. Slowly, he rises to his full height, silvery wings flaring just slightly as he allows his cold gaze to travel across the chamber.

"This squabble amongst the Varati is no concern of ours," the Acesian Adept declares, his voice resonating with a rich power which testifies to many years of public speech. "The Varati are a people consumed by their passions. The propensity to wage war runs as thickly in their blood as....well, as the propensity for sober and judicious deliberation runs in our own."

Here, Vertinius pauses to allow a faint smile to quirk his lips. "The best interests of the Empyre will not be served if we allow ourselves to be drawn into this conflict," he continues after a moment, shaking his head slowly. "Indeed, we would only bring injury and ruin to a people who have suffered more than their fair share of these things already. Our people.

"Undoubtedly, many here believe that we have an opportunity to gain a small measure of influence by involving ourselves in some fashion." Here, the Acesian lifts his gaze towards the highest tiers of the chamber, before allowing it to slowly drift downwards once more. "We have already danced with the Varati, if my esteemed colleagues will deign to recall. I need not remind you of the outcome."

Several of those seated nearby shift slightly in their chairs, or rustle their papers quietly as mention of the previous war is just barely skirted.

"If the Varati wish to destroy themselves from the inside out, let them do so. And if the Mongrel province of Avalon suffers for its unfortunate position in the midst of their civil war...." The Acesian's wings rustle quietly as he lifts his shoulders in a brief, unsympathetic shrug. "Such is the price of freedom. Until the terms of the treaty are explicitly broken by the Varati government, the Empyre should remain completely outside this situation. We have a responsibility to serve and protect our people, not further our own interests in a part of the world we have already lost. To do anything else will only risk further losses. And that is something we cannot afford." Then, slowly, Vertinius sinks back into his chair, fingers steepled in front of his chest.

Venus's eyes are opened and brightened when the elder Acesian speaks. Her hand relaxes on her sword and her posture further straightens. War for war's sake is not something she wishes to repeat. Venus's eyes flash to a scar that is carefully hidden by her red chlamys, and then regains her expressionless state and Schola demeanor. She is here to guard, not to partake.

Nimbus grimaces, releasing another -- more disapproving -- puff of breath as Vertinius speaks of "not furthering our own interests."

Leonidas nods once again as Vertinius sits, and offers, "Well spoken, again. Are there any who will challenge Acesian's right to the words we have heard spoken?"

There are more mutters from the top rows of the basilica -- the less prominent Aegians are seated in the highest tier, with the more influential being placed steadily closer to the podium. As the Acesian's speech draws to a close, the mutters become more pronounced.

"Are we all cowards? Is this how far Empyreal pride has fallen?"

"Do nothing? That is our grand scheme? When did we become a nation of spineless weaklings?"

"If the Varati are at war, now is the time to strike back!"

Agrippina runs her pen over the surface of her sheaf of papers in quick, flashing strokes, almost like a sword whistling in for the kill. She snorts as Vertinius finishes speaking, but continues to edit her speech rather than give herself free reign to make further commentary.

The speech of the Acesian causes a displeased ripple of murmuring to erupt about Phineas, while he himself continues to portray an image of stoic attentiveness. Pale eyebrows drop downwards in a frown, forming a near unbroken line across a brow heavily ridged with furrows.

Linus leans over to briefly mutter something in the Acesian's ear once Vertinius has taken his seat. The brief pat on the shoulder he adds with the word is a good sign that the Aegian from the Praetorian House is in agreement.

He never thought himself a politician, and yet leaving those brief cries unanswered is supremely difficult. Magnus shifts slightly in his chair, the only sign of a growing restlessness easily lost in all the other movement of the chamber.

A few heads nod in agreement as Vertinius speaks. Maximus Livus says to his companion, Claudia Jovia Antonius, "Too right, too right. Not our fight. Let them kill themselves while we watch and wait."

With hardly a shift of expression, Leonidas searches out Kalypso, and inclines his head toward her before he invites her to speak with, "House Tritonis, if you will."

Kalypso rises easily, a brief smile directed to her husband. She looks calm. Cool. Collected. Her gaze is even, as she turns her head, regarding the fellow Aegians seated about her. Her voice is loud enough to be easily heard, for those without hearing problems. "'Tis never been a secret that Tritonis favors peace. That I favor peace. Though let it not be said that Tritonis is not also a House of war -- to do such would be to deny the history of this House. We are descendants of Tritonia, after all."

Her gaze turns, as she pauses. When she speaks again, she is just a fraction louder. More secure. More confident. "I lay blame on my shoulders for the embarrassment given to the Empyre during the last war. Perhaps it is because I was too young. Too naive. Too afraid to speak for what I believed. I shall not make this mistake again.

"We are weakened since the last war -- that is no secret. It is easy to see. We have lost land. Money. Men. And we have lost the support of our people. We simply cannot afford another blunder. I believe Deus Acesian has clearly made his point on that." She pauses for a moment, though clearly not done.

Venus watches Kalypso stand, with hopeless hero-worship in her eyes for the young matriarch. She admires the woman from afar. The Dea of Tritonis is young, intelligent, strong -- and every bit as tough as her male colleagues. This is something Venus can understand, and she draws strength from the poise of the Dea. Venus lifts her chin, strength in her stance once again, and focuses on the young Kalypso.

As the young Tritonides matriarch rises to give her speech, there's another mutter of dissension from the upper rows. A few comments can be heard, drifting down from above.

"... just a child... was Damaris thinking?"

"...allied with Thanatos... any guess how they'll vote?"

"... should step down as Dea... husband being the Princeps..."

Vertinius watches Kalypso, nodding fractionally in agreement with what he has heard so far. His expression, however, never deviates from cool contemplation, nor does the rest of his posture alter in any way.

Yes, yes, well and good. She is noble, she is honorable. She's a veritable Wonder Woman. Phineas frowns to himself and makes a hushed comment to the man sitting next to him. Get on with it.

Kalypso's head inclines towards Magnus, when she continues. "Dominus Jove also raises an interesting point. The people of Avalon have not asked our aid. Indeed, the reason we are gathered here tonight is because of a treaty that exists between the Empyre and the Varati. A treaty which states, explicitly, that the province formerly known as the Arelate is to be a free land. Inhabited by whomever wish to live there."

The young matriarch knows the details of the treaty particularly well. They are, after all, quoted to her in every angry letter. Yelled by every angry landowner who's lost property. They are well-ingrained. She still does not sit down, pausing for another brief moment, before she'll continue.

Nero, Livus and Basilius obviously do not agree with the statements of peace coming from the three major houses. They mutter among themselves with large amounts of head shaking.

Cassius remains as expressionless as ever. His eyes have narrowed a touch, and he seeks a more comfortable position in the none-too-comfortable chair that has been the bane of more than one meeting. As he listens to the Tritonis matriarch, he glances fleetingly toward the elderly woman at his side. He notices that Agrippina has a speech all written out; he himself has no pages with him. Either he came unprepared -- which is unlikely -- or he already memorized what he plans to say.

Claudius might as well be a statue, for all he moves or reacts.

Magnus meets those eyes, making no move to approve or otherwise until this speech is finished. Still, he focuses on this girl... this woman... rather than the rest of the Aegis for a moment, listening to her words instead of the grumbles for and against on every side.

"I say we take back our land and our slaves!" shouts one disgruntled pedarii from somewhere in the top tier.

Agrippina turns her cold eyes upon Cassius as Kalypso continues to speak. For a brief moment, they warm from frigid to chilly as she gazes upon her scion. Then, censure fills the eyes as she notices the Augustin Aegian wiggling like a young boy.

"I'd like to see you out there doing the taking!" another pedarii shouts back, followed by a number of sniggers from nearby Aegians.

Now Kalypso turns, directing her cool gaze towards the back of the room. The peanut gallery -- the mutterers. A soft clearing of her throat -- her gaze mildly censuring on those shouting like children, before she speaks. Clearly.

"I've heard say the Empyre is led by spineless cowards -- that we are the pawns of Khalid Atar. I've heard we should take the opportunity to attack the Varati in their time of weakness. But I want you all to think very carefully on that. Very carefully. The Varati might be divided against themselves -- but there is one thing they might unify against, and that is us. The Empyreans. The Varati are already angry. They will unite against us. And they will destroy us. Should any of you doubt this, I wish you would remember what the Arelate previously was. The cities that Khalid Atar destroyed when he was irritated. Not angry. Irritated." And she, for one, doesn't want to find out what Khalid's like when he's angry. The young Dea lets her words linger for a moment, before she turns back around to face her peers.

Creon shows little emotion at the words of Kalypso -- after all, he has expected nothing else from House Tritonis -- but turns his head to the pedarius who advocated the reclaiming of the land. He gives the man a brief smile and indicates a clap of his hands, but leaves it at that. Any other signs of encouragement will have to wait.

The Aegians seated around the representative for Acesius stir briefly, many of them nodding in agreement with Kalypso's words, one or two raising voices to add brief declarations of their own. Vertinius himself, however, remains silent, and watchful, ignoring the shouted comments which arise from the back of the chamber.

Maximus Livus says to his companion, Claudia Jovia Antonius, "Tritonis is wise." He tuts, "We don't want to make that crazed madman come at us with more exploding cities. One Lycenae is enough."

There are some grudging murmurs of agreement, for Lycenae is not easily forgotten. But the pride of the Empyre runs deep, and nowhere is it more prevalent than here, in the heart of its governing body.

"We cannot always cower before Khalid Atar!" shouts someone from the back.

"He was overthrown once -- he can be so again!"

Yet the cries are not quite as vehement as before, and there are a number of scathing glares and nudges toward the more vocal advocates of war.

Venus bites her lip as the cries of war enthusiasts come forward. She narrows her eyes at those who would so easily march the Praetorians to their deaths. For, it will not be the members in the gallery who will fight the Varati sword. It will be her Praetorian brothers and sisters, many who she lost in the first battle. Before those lives are given away for the pride of the Empyre, she hopes -- prays -- that the Aegis will think with their hearts and minds.

Creon makes a quick count and notes those who shout for retribution at the back seats. Those who are disappointed by the weak suggestions of twiddling thumbs and awaiting the situation by the major Houses who have spoken so far. His time -- and the time of those who still believe in the power and the pride of the Empyre -- will come. And the longer those have to wait until their cries are heard and acknowledged, the stronger they will grow. Creon knows he can count upon them.

Kalypso's words are still confident, and clear, as she addresses the Aegians about her once more. For the most part, she has avoided looking at her husband while she speaks. But it is again that her gaze falls upon him for just the briefest moment, lips turning up in a ghost of a smile, before she finishes her little 'speech.'

"Peace is, as usual, the goal of my House. I wish to take no more Empyrean lives in a foolish battle. The province of the Arelate is not forgotten to me, but the people of Avalon have not asked our help. Should they wish to be a free nation, then they should govern themselves as such. They have means of asking for help -- it only takes one Empyrean to carry a message, and it only takes one message to ask for help."

And then Kalypso draws a deep breath, bracing herself, perhaps, for her next words. "We are representatives of the people of the Empyre. As such, we are beholden to the will of our citizens. Our citizens are not crying at the injustices being faced by the citizens of Avalon. They are not assembling armies of civilians so that we might wage war, once again, for the pride of the Empyre. Once again, we are brought together to speak about a matter we have no business involving ourselves in, save a sense of pride. The treaty shall stand, Khalid Atar shall see to that. It is he who wished the province, still largely destroyed, to be free, I do not think he shall have changed his mind now."

With that final word, Kalypso sits in her seat once again -- delicate ankles crossing, hands folding together calmly on her lap.

Leonidas nods as Kalypso sits, as he has with all the rest. "Will anyone challenge Tritonis' right to the words Kalypso has spoken, or shall we move on?"

"It is all we can expect from a House run by women!" shouts some misogynistic heckler from the back.

A pedarii calls out, "If wishes were gryphons, mongrels would ride."

Another voice mutters, "Will he see to it? Apparently, some Varati forces disagree."

Agrippina grips the arm of her chair impatiently as she waits for her turn to arrive. The pen in her hand has been put to good use during Kalypso's speech. What was once a two page speech has gained enough addendums to make it a three page speech.

Claudius has no speech before him. He looks neither right, nor left, in fact, but dead ahead at the speaker, whoever that is at the time. Apparently, the heckling and the petty politics do not concern him.

Nero can longer contain himself. His mutterings grow louder and louder, though a single word is continuously repeated, "Cowards."

Just the slightest setting of his jaw, thinning of his lips, gives Leonidas' displeasure at some of those comments away. Not enough to keep him from smoothing his expression into placidity and intoning, "House Thanatos, if you will."

Isolationism -- not a bad suggestion. It does the Empyre no harm, though is it the best suggestion? Phineas merely frowns as he muses, pale blue eyes flitting from one heckler to the next. Then they settle upon the young Aristedes with fleeting interest. At least he gets to speak after this upstart.

In slow, deliberate motions, Aristedes nods once and rises from his seat and places the stack of notes down to free his hands. A brief glance strays towards the front of the large chamber to study Leonidas, before his attention shifts to address the room at large. And thus come the words that follow along the similar sentiments of those who have spoken before him.

"Many times, war is upon a nation before they have the opportunity to contribute to this fate, but here we are awarded the autonomy to decide the fate of the Empyre. We are still in a state of rebuilding, of restoring strength and glory that our prior... losses... had taken from us."

Aristedes pauses for a composed breath, hands lifting from his sides to fold neatly at the small of his back beneath his wings. "But does that mean that we are cowards? That we are subject to the whims of the... Varati, as though we were inferior to them?" He is quick to answer his own question. "No, of course not. We are Empyrean, and we will honor the agreement we made in good faith until there is a certainty that it is being broken." The young nobleman takes a moment to collect his thoughts, before proceeding to finish.

One particularly old Aegian has nodded off, and his wheezing snore produces a few titters among the otherwise tense crowd. Luckily, someone nudges him awake before his snores can cause too much disruption.

Vertinius doesn't bother to direct his attention towards the next speaker. Instead, he stares down towards the floor of the chamber, tapping his lips slowly with steepled fingers. Anyone who imagines the Acesian to be anything but attentive, however, would be seriously mistaken.

"And we should prepare for any event, including the fact that the agreements we have made may be broken without our action. In that instance, we will be ready to defend the land that was declared neutral by treaty." Aristedes' angled chin tilts upward, passion for his words lending energy to his eyes and vibrancy to his voice.

"But we should not agree to intervene in the internal conflicts that plague the Varati, at this time. Let them battle their own wars, and let us maintain a perspective that is uninvolved and capable of seeing all angles of the situation. Our treaty ended a war, but it did not make us allies." With that, the Thanatos representative bows his head slightly and turns to retrieve his notes and regard the ocean of predictably mixed reactions.

"What did I tell you?" mutters one Aegian to another, loud enough to be overheard. "Is it any surprise that Thanatos and Tritonis would vote the same?"

Kalypso's gaze is steady on Aristedes, a faint hint of a smile still on her face. Simply listening. Once his words are finished, her face remains a mask of neutrality -- no approval shown at his words. No disapproval either. Not even surprise -- for she's not really expected that from the Thanatos representative.

Leonidas nods, as he has for all the rest, and takes a breath to speak. "Well-spoken, Thanatos." Those looking for either approval or disapproval in the Princeps' expression will find none. "Will anyone challenge his words?"

Nimbus just shakes his greying head. "We'll never benefit if we don't get our toes a little wet," he mutters to a neighboring Aegian.

Maximus Livus appears quite content to know that his views are supported by the major Houses of the Empyre and their allies. He claps at the end of Aristedes words, poking at Claudia Antonius to join him, but the woman refrains.

Cassius has slumped down a little in his chair into what is a marginally more comfortable position, and he props an arm on the armrest, tilting his cheek into his palm while he listens to the speeches and hecklers' jaded exclamations. One might mistake his impassive expression for boredom, though the keenness in his gaze ought to disprove that notion readily enough.

Linus has remained relatively quiet through the various speeches, and save his brief comment to the Acesian Aegian, he has refrained from adding to the almost constant murmurs that echo through the chamber as each Aegian states his case.

Agrippina's disapproving eye once again falls upon Cassius. She hisses at him, as if he were five instead of a multiple of five, "Sit up straight."

Is it too early to be sorry for volunteering? Magnus might never have put his name forward to attend this meeting, had he known how long, how contentious and how simply... wordy it would be. For all his earlier calm demeanor and carefully cultivated facade, he cannot stop his fingers from starting a gentle rhythm against the tabletop.

As the debate progresses, Venus slips more into her stoic, emotionless state as a mask against the inner emotions she feels. If she thought about the words, truly thought about them, she would crumble. War -- being spoken about so casually? Her eyes go to her grandfather again, and then her person slips into the shadows near the door at which she is posted.

Leonidas straightens up a little where he stands, stretching, perhaps, though certainly a man who once served with the Praetorians doesn't mind standing. "Then let us proceed to House Fortuna. If we may."

Now that his turn has come at last, Phineas Iapetus Fortuna rises from his seat in a fluid motion. Coarse hands flick over his toga picta, smoothing the draping folds into impeccable array. His voice, once lifted, rings out clearly and easily in a calm baritone,

"Assembled Dei et Deae, Dominii et Dominae, it has often been said that violence is the last refuge of the incompetent. Over two years ago, it was painfully proven that war with the Varati would have disastrous consequences. We are now being offered another chance it would seem, to take the role of pacifist or aggressor." Here, Phineas pauses, yet he clearly has more to say.

Now that he has captured the attention he desired, Phineas continues, "As it is well-known, an edict of the treaty in question states that the province now known as Avalon would remain free of either Varati or Empyreal control. My honorable colleagues, I question now whether or not that treaty has been broken. That Varati troops are present in the province I will not argue, however, I have not been told whether they are to be considered rebels or loyalists to their supposed God-King." He pauses yet again, turning to study the higher tiers of those assembled. And still, he is not yet done, but he takes a moment to regather his thoughts.

Cassius angles his head to the side to the side at Agrippina's hiss, and despite the seriousness of the affair, his mouth twitches at one corner. With deliberate reluctance, he sits up straighter in his chair and murmurs with the appropriate amount of wry obedience, "Yes, domina."

Phineas continues with hardly a bat of his eyelashes. "If Varati troops do indeed prove loyalistic in nature, there is no question that the treaty should then be considered null and void. It is no secret that Avalon has yet to produce its own stable government. What can one expect from a gathering of lost refugees, outcasts, and uneducated mongrels? Thus, it does not surprise me either that Avalon has not requested the Empyre's aid." He pivots to face yet another side of the basilica, again giving pause to his words for added weight.

"If the presence of the Varati troops proves to be in a state of rebellion against Khalid-Atar, then, my honored colleagues, it says to me that this supposed God-King is either apathetic to or incapable of handling the situation. I am rather disinclined to believe the latter," states Phineas, a hand lifting in gesticulation.

"The conclusion reached by House Fortuna is that more information is necessary before a sensible course of action may be taken. I need not remind the Aegis that this is a most delicate situation, do I? Need I remind the Aegis," his voice lifts to an emphatic shout, "of the blood that was spilled by arrogance? Yes, arrogance. I speak truthfully, my honored colleagues, that there is none among you prouder to bear these ivory wings than I. But I will not succumb to delusions that we are within our Golden Age. Put this aside, and for once, let us show some modicum of intelligence. We owe it to our sons..." His eyes briefly alight upon Venus, ".. and our daughters." And with that, he sits down.

Nero shouts out, "Varati troops are Varati troops!" Basilius tries futilely to muzzle his compatriot, but Nero manages to call out, "Any Varati troops in Arelate break the treaty!"

Livus finally covers Nero's mouth with his hand.

Nimbus actually nods in approval to the words of House Fortuna, and leans forward a bit -- a small bit, considering his belly -- as if he'd love to chime in right now. But he knows he must wait his turn, so settles back comfortably again. It's getting a bit warm in here, what with 500 excited (or sleepy) Aegians, and he dabs at his forehead with a finely embroidered handkerchief.

Now that House Fortuna has made its stance known, Cassius loses that brief hint of wry levity he'd displayed toward Agrippina. His own speech is forthcoming, and he glances across the gathered assemblage before directing his stare toward Leonidas, awaiting his indication for Augustus to follow Fortuna.

Creon does not voice his displeasure at the growing number of pacifists, but his darkened face reflects well his mood. Again, calculations run through the minor House-head, of how many of the challenging calls support a braver course of action, and how the odds have changed from the time of the prior discussion some four years ago. Perhaps all the pride and glory of the Empyre takes is a strong voice, rather than twenty challenging calls after the major speeches have been delivered. But, then again, it's doubtful the majority will be still awake when it is his turn to make the speech.

Leonidas calls out, over Nero's protests, "Is there any who will contest Fortuna's decision? Any who can speak with civility, and without the intent to incite riot," he clarifies, and aims a glance toward Nero's section of the seats. A subtle hint, perhaps.

Cassius' nod is missed, but the Princeps nods in his own turn. "When the floor is quiet, Augustus, speak, if you will."

Rising after that prompt from the Princeps, Cassius settles his wings against his back and turns to face the five-hundred-or-so faces of his colleagues. His eyes are cool and focused, his expression determined. Without preamble, he begins.

"I know, better than anyone, the folly of too much pride," he says, his clear, strong voice carrying even to the furthest row. "Hubris is the bane of our nation. How many more lives must we sacrifice for the sake of that pride? I believe in the might and glory of the Empyre. I wish to see that might and glory restored. But going head-to-head with the Varati again is not the solution. We lost the war. Do we need another Lycenae before that point is driven home?"

Shaking his head, Cassius goes on. "If we rush into battle now, we'll lose again. Our whole nation has suffered; cities and bridges are still being rebuilt, much of our farmland has not yet been replenished, and many of our people are still hungry. I will not advocate another war. If you must have your revenge, save it for when we can afford it." He pauses then, but it is clear that he is not yet finished.

Meeting the gazes of the other Aegians without flinching, Cassius continues his speech. "And as for reclaiming Arelate, there are other means. This 'mongrel nation,' as they call it, is vulnerable. If it truly has no working government after two years, then it is desperately in need of aid. We can offer our support without violating the dictates of our treaty with the Varati. You are all familiar with the patron/client relationship that exists in our society; I say we become, essentially, a 'patron' of Avalon. We will offer guidance, protection, and support -- in turn, they can offer labor, land, and trade."

Agrippina's wintry mien grows even chillier as her blue eyes flatten into a grey. Like the sea before the eruption of a volcano, her eyes become the color of her garments. Death, speaks her eyes as she listens to Cassius.

"And as for the Varati," the Augustin patriarch goes on, "let them squabble. If this civil war will weaken their nation further, then Khalid Atar will have to focus on his own affairs, and be less of a threat to us. I have met with him on two occasions, and I do not trust him. One moment he offers us peace treaties and takes one of our women to wife -- the next, he threatens us with another war. He is unpredictable and dangerous, and we must be wary of him." Cassius glances toward Leonidas and holds up a hand to indicate that he is not yet finished.

"But attack him and his people?" Cassius asks. "No, the Varati are still too powerful to risk it. Now is the time to use wisdom, not weapons. The longer the Varati war amongst themselves, the weaker they will become -- you all saw the damage a unified force of Varati Clans wrought upon us under the direction of their God-King. If they are divided, they are less dangerous. Perhaps this can be used to our advantage."

Only silence is forthcoming from the Aegian of Fortuna. Resting his elbow upon the arm of his chair, Phineas then cradles his jaw in the palm of his hand. Around him are mingled reactions -- nods and grumbles of approval countered by the darker mumblings of those supporting immediate vengeance.

Cassius sweeps his gaze across the assembly one last time before closing off his argument. "In short, I propose that we concentrate on rebuilding and strengthening our Empyre; that we offer support and protection to Avalon, and that we maintain non-aggressive relations with the Varati under Khalid Atar. We find out what we can of this rebellion, and if it is possible to encourage dissension, we do so. Once a victor emerges, we deal with them then, but we must be foe to neither side. By then, the Empyre will again be a force to be reckoned with, as we were under Justinius -- may his lare ever watch over us."

And with that, the Augustin Aegian tilts his head in a nod to the Princeps and resumes his seat, finished.

A muscle jumps in the Jovian's jaw as Cassius' speech winds its way through planned paths, the words laying out Augustus' stance. As if it galls him to hear similar words spouted as his own -- a sentiment too similar -- Magnus shifts noticeably, unable to keep his wings from flexing uneasily. His own words, although possibly better spoken. He does not even deign to nod in agreement.

Vertinius watches Cassius quietly, even after the other man has resumed his seat. Another Aegian leans over to murmur something to the Acesian Adept, who responds with no more than a slight inclination of his head and a soft word of apparent agreement.

Someone from the back, inevitably, has his own opinion to spout. "Peace from the man who was a Varati slave?"

Leonidas, though, will nod in return to Cassius words, and he says, "Well spoken, Augustus."

Surprise is evident on the formerly composed features of Kalypso's face. Indeed, it was Cassius who spoke so quickly for war the first time about -- and has generally been the fire and brimstone of the small Aegian contingent residing, for the most part, in Haven. The one first to speak for war. She's almost gap-jawed, but she gathers her composure quickly. Before too many might notice her brief lapse.

Agrippina waits to be acknowledged by Leonidas, but by the rigid set of her shoulders, she obviously does not agree with Cassius' cautious approach.

Creon nods in frustrated agreement as his neighbor suggests mildly to him, "It looks like the Varati train their slaves well to behave."

Cassius stiffens in his chair at the 'slave' comment, but does not glance over his shoulder to see who might have issued it. Yet his discomfiture grows at the additional remark from Creon's neighbor. This time, he does glare, shooting the man a lethal, icy look, warning implicit in his gaze.

Nero leaps to his feet and shouts, "Varati lover, Varati lover!"

Once again, Basilius and Livus are forced to silence him.

Aristedes glances up from his notes to regard Cassius with a level, expressionless study, the corners of his lips twitching downward and then smoothing out. A soft, barely perceptible sound emits against his throat before his glance yanks away. Fingers drum against the outside of the stiff sheets of paper, attention returning to the sea of words that balance precariously within his lap.

Leonidas calls out, "House Juventas, if you will share your thoughts with this assembly."

Agrippina does not need a second invitation. She rises from her seat and lifts up her papers. Holding them forward so that her aged eyes can focus on the print, her voice fills the air, giving lie to the fact that she has over seventy years behind her. She orates with all the skill of her many years, but with the power of a much younger woman.

"Fellow Aegians, we stand at the eve of a decision which will either be a nail in the coffin of cowardice or a rally for the ascendance of Empyreal power. We were once the greatest of all races, a nation to be envied and emulated. The past is not history nor a dream that has passed. The Empyre can once again become great, but not if we allow ourselves to be deluded by caution and cowardice. We should not allow our pride, our honor, and our good names to be trod under the iron-shod foot of Khalid's devil spawn." Given the copious amounts of writing on the papers before her, Dea Juventas is obviously not finished.

Like a hammer striking hot steel, Agrippina's voice rings over the assembly. "We forged a treaty in good faith with the Varati. We chose caution and goodwill. We chose, for the good of the nation, to sign the treaty. Khalid abused our trust, our gesture of goodwill and our honor by imposing his childish whims upon us. He demanded one of our women for his wife. He forced us to accept an Empress not of our choosing. He levied fines and tariffs upon us, but we accepted for the good of the nation.

"He tries to turn us into his subjects, and we should fight this with all that makes us Empyreans. We advanced caution and goodwill only to gain a broken treaty. Khalid has broken the peace treaty by allowing Varati soldiers into Arelate. If he were a true and just man, he would have stopped his subjects, for that is the job of a real ruler, rather than a petty tyrant.

"We are not pawns for Khalid to move as he will. No, we must take a stand at this juncture and stop the rampant disregard of the Varati for Empyreal pride. The Varati have broken the treaty, therefore we should not be forced to continue upholding it. We should take back Arelate for the good of the Empyre." Agrippina continues to stand as she flips to a new page.

Clearing her throat, Agrippina exhorts, "We cannot allow caution to drive us into hiding. We cannot allow caution to prove us cowards to history. We cannot allow Khalid to dominate us as if we were his pawns. We are Empyreans, and we have a right to our own lands. We have the right to Arelate, because the Varati have broken the treaty." Her voice rises and she grows more animated as she continues to speak. Age has obviously locked her into a process of thought which cannot be broken onto a new path.

Nero apparently finds Agrippina's words much more to his taste. He claps loudly and exuberantly.

Basilius and Livus appear pleased, yet they do not raise their hands, instead willing to wait until the representative of Juventas has finished speaking.

"Verily, we could raise our armies and march upon Arelate, but let us not mimic our foes. Let us not pursue the folly which so many of my peers have cautioned us against. We are Empyreans, and we need not be brutish like Khalid's spawn. While the Varati take the open, aggressive stance, let us not copy them.

"Instead, we should play to our strengths. We are an intelligent nation, not driven by primal urges. We are a compassionate nation. We do not inconsiderately cause the deaths of our own countrymen. Instead, I put forth a plan where we send aid to the mongrels residing in Arelate, allow them to fight the Varati who have chosen to invade their territory. We send our Praetorians and Velites in a defensive capacity to aid the mongrels who are not trained in the art of warfare.

"We need not convince them that we fight a common foe, for it is truth. We do. The Varati are both our enemies. There are those here who claim that Arelate has not sought our aid. Must we wait until the land is destroyed? Must we allow caution and cowardice to result in the unimpeachable ascension of Khalid to godhood? Must we hide and demand that the mongrels come to us? No, let us send forth an offer to the mongrels to help them defend Arelate. We cannot continue to cower in the face of adversity. We must take the offensive if we are to once again ascend to the pinnacle of glory. We should offer our aid to the mongrels, for we have a common enemy."

Agrippina smiles, like a sly snake. "However, once the Varati have been removed, our forces will remain and take Arelate back into the Empyre." She pauses to catch her breath. Her papery white face takes on a hint of peach as she flushes from her exertions. She flips to the next page of her speech.

Creon straightens once again as he hears Agrippina's speech, all frustration and discomfort banned. At the mention of Empyreal pride, his face begins to glow in a new light, and he joins Nero's clapping with an enthusiasm that seemed lost before.

There are a number of pedarii in the back who think along the same lines as Juventas' matriarch. And it is ironic that even some of the most tradition-bound and militant of the Aegians should find themselves agreeing with this 70-year-old woman, tending as they do to view the 'fair sex' as pampered and weak. Yet there are murmurs of agreement from these selfsame hardliners, and one or two 'Hear hear's.

Perhaps that's more what Kalypso expected from Cassius. So she's not surprised at the vehemence in the elderly matriarch's words. Several of the men sitting in her vicinity nod in agreement, soft grunts of approval. Well, until she starts speaking about training the mongrels to fight the Varati. After all, if the Empyreans cannot defeat the Varati, and the mongrels succeed in doing such -- wouldn't it then follow that those same mongrels might easily overwhelm the weakened Empyrean forces?

The Iron Grip, as she is known within her House, Agrippina Valeria wears the color of her nomer. Grey-clad, as if death might strike her down at any moment, she clings to life with indomitable will. So, it is unsurprising that she raises a wrinkled fist into the air.

"Why should we allow mongrels and Varati to rule a province which is rightfully ours? Why should we continue to allow Khalid to dictate our actions? Why should we offer peace and diplomacy when the Varati shun our actions? If we continue along the path of caution, then the Varati, even the Atlanteans and Sylvans, will laugh at our cowardice.

"The Varati are slowly conquering us, province by province. They play at honor and compassion, pretending to give land to the mongrels, but the moment the Empyre's back is turned, the Varati sent troops to take the province for themselves. The Varati and their ruler are liars and cheats. We cannot allow ourselves to be fooled another minute. We should take action against the villainous Varati. We must take back our land and stand firm against Khalid's tyranny."

At the conclusion of her speech, Agrippina's voice has risen to a shout worthy of a drill sergeant. Her righteous anger overcomes her, and she attempts to bang her fist against the arm of her chair. However, Dea Juventas is standing, and the arm of her chair is far below her reach. Thus, her arm swings wildly and comes into contact with Cassius' head, boxing his ears as if he were a miscreant puppy.

"You condemn the Varati for daring to break the terms of our treaty by invading Avalon, and yet you would freely countenance doing no better!" an anonymous voice calls from another part of the chamber. A woman's voice, filled with righteous indignation. "Leave the mongrels their land, and the Varati their war!"

There's a stunned moment in which the noise of the assemblage seems to lull briefly, but only a moment, and soon enough a few gleeful guffaws emanate from the periphery of the room.

Phineas cannot help but roll his eyes at this rather passionate display. He does not seem altogether amused at the apparent abuse delivered unto the Augustin Deus. Whatever he thinks of Agrippina's words, though, he keeps to himself, shifting in his seat to straighten his posture and ease the pains of taut muscles.

Cassius had been listening to Agrippina with some surprise -- certainly, he must have known that his one-time mother-in-law was something of a tyrant, but this had gone beyond all his expectations. And so, caught up in the spectacle of her speech, he'd been utterly unprepared for that swinging fist, and it glances smartly off the side of his head.

"Ow!" the Augustin Aegian can't help but exclaim, his wings ruffling as he reaches up to rub at his scalp.

Agrippina sits down, not seeming in the least perturbed by the fact that she has just boxed the ears of the Augustin Deus. Ramrod straight, she folds her hands over her papers and looks at Leonidas with all the dignity of her years.

A loud, and quite amused snort echoes from one side of the chamber, and suddenly Magnus is left looking a touch abashed, as if he were not certain the sound had actually come from him. He coughs experimentally, covering his mouth with one hand and shifting as if to cover the moment.

There are times when the job of stoic Princeps, of impartial observer to the Aegis' debates, can be too much even for a man as practiced at expressionlessness as Leonidas. Whether it's the boxing of ears, or the pure energy of a woman so devoted to her words -- whether he supports them or not -- the corners of Leonidas' mouth twitch upward. "Well, and enthusiastically, spoken, Juventas. We are all now eager to hear from House Ares. If we may."

At least Maximus Livus can find humor in Agrippina's action if not agreement with her words. He mutters to Claudia Antonius, "She'll kill us all. She wants us all to be wearing her colors."

Cassius shoots a disgruntled glare in the Jovian's direction and just quietly shakes his head while still rubbing at his scalp. And maybe he offers up some brief invocation to the gods, thanking them that Augustus and Juventas no longer enjoy such close ties as they once did.

Claudius stands, and looks around at the assembled Aegis. "Ave, Aegians," he says in a gruff voice that carries well. "I am Claudius Areides, also known as Malleus. Some of you will know me by reputation." Indeed, they might. Claudius has a long and very bloody history, and he is well-known for his brutality in battle. "I am a Praetor, and have spent my life in service to the Empyre."

Vertinius eyes Claudius from his seat close to the floor, eyebrows drawing together just slightly. His wings flick once as he shifts in his chair, but his attention does not waver from the other man. This is about as close to open interest as this man will come.

Claudius continues. "That said, let me state that I have come from the borders of the former Arelate. And there are Varati troops in Avalon, but I do not believe them to be troops loyal to Khalid Atar. Therefore they are not troops of the Varati Kingdoms, but rebels instead, and the treaty would seem to be intact.

"There are also two Mongrel forces in Avalon. The first is well-equipped and well-trained. They occupy the north and central eastern areas, and control Port Avalon, and the Lycenae mines. They are engaged in some great work there, but I have not been able to determine what yet. I do not believe these troops are native to Avalon. Finally, what I believe are Avalon's own troops, are in disorder. They are not regular forces, and I have not yet seen any guiding force behind them, though I am sure that one exists." No mention is given of how Claudius knows this. He pauses, momentarily.

Though Claudius is not finished, Nero, Livus and Basilius begin to murmur excitedly among themselves. Nero looks vaguely disappointed that the rumor about rebels has proven true.

Cassius leans forward slightly in his seat, his attention focused upon the Areides representative and this latest news that the man is reporting. His interest seems to be shared by a number of other Aegians, for now at last are some actual hard facts, rather than speculation and theory.

A lift of a finely-crafted brow, as Kalypso shifts her weight in her seat. If before she seemed attentive, she now appears inherently involved in active listening, eyes focused on the Ares representative as she keeps her silence.

Finally, some of those answers he had earlier called for. Phineas' posture straightens, his wings stiffening as they perk in an echo of his increased attentiveness. Blue eyes grow cold and frosty, and though he continues to listen to Claudius, his gaze unfocuses to some distant point.

Of all those that have spoken so far in this chamber, it is a fellow Praetor, one coming forward with concrete information of what is happening in Avalon, that gains direct attention from Linus Hyperion. His fog-colored gaze is set squarely on Claudius, absorbing each detail given to the assembled Aegians.

Claudius speaks, his voice loud and clear. "Now, as for my counsel, if you would have it. This civil war of the Varati is not our concern. Indeed, were we to get involved on the side of the rebel forces, they would immediately lose their reason to rebel, and would join forces with the loyalists to attack the Empyre.

"I am sure," he says, "that no one here would think of joining forces with Khalid Atar." There's a bit of a pause. "In this, I agree with the other respected speakers who came before me. Let us assist Avalon in repelling their invaders, if Avalon asks. As for reclaiming the territory ... Avalon is a ruin. A shattered shell of a land, whose main feature is a site the Varati consider sacred. And militarily, very useful as a demilitarized buffer between the Empyre, and the Varati Kingdoms." He still has just a little more to say, now.

"What about our land?" shouts some ornery Aegian from the back. "Do we just let those mongrels have it?"

Someone else answers the first's complaint, "They've had it for over two years now, and all of a sudden you're upset? Listen to the Areides -- the land's worthless now anyway."

But are they answers? Grumbles and hisses abound. He believes they're rebel forces. But does he know this? Does a rebel Varati look any different from one in service to the God-King?

Agrippina frowns as Claudius' words roll over the assemblage. She sniffs disdainfully, but does not otherwise interject.

Claudius finishes up. "Now, I have heard words spoken here, that one who does not wish for war, is a coward."

Claudius' eyes narrow. "I tell you, I am no coward. I know war better than most. War is a terrible, desperate struggle between two nations bent on annihilation, and laying waste to all around them. It is not a game for politicians to play, if there is no true need."

Claudius' voice actually thunders for a moment, without seeming to rise to the level of shouting. "When the Empyre is endangered, when our people are threatened, I will fight like all the hounds of hell, against any odds. But until then, let us not consider sending our young men and women out to die, merely to salvage a false pride over a scrap of ruined land. We are the Empyre, the finest civilization on this world. Let us measure our worth by the wisdom and sobriety of our actions, and our caring for all our citizens, rather than by the crude measure of territory gained."

Claudius bows respectfully to the Princeps, after this. He is done, and sits down.

Once the Legate has finished, Creon addresses him directly. Rather than cheering for support or booing him out, he asks in a tense, but at least polite way, "You said the treaty is intact, for the troops appear not to be those of Khalid? If an army of armed Empyreans chose to remain in Arelate, and the Aegis as well as the Emperor denied any responsibility for this action, would the Varati King be expected to consider the treaty still intact as well?"

Silent among one of the few shadows in the room, another man sits behind Claudius apart from his own house. Equal in command through both his position in the guard and in matters dealing with the Varati conflict, Legate Cepheus Tritonides remains motionless while the other man speaks. His eyes seem slightly distant in relation to the happenings in the room, the man's mind perhaps on dealing with matters other then politics.

Cassius eases back into his chair once the Areides representative has finished, and he steeples his hands together, mouth pursed in a thoughtful fashion. His eyes dart over toward Creon from House Thyriades, then flash back to Claudius to see how the Legate will respond.

Claudius turns his own steel-grey gaze to Creon, and nods in respect for the man's question. "I am not one to guess the moods and whims of the Varati King. He has proven unstable in the past. I would, however, expect the Aegis to act with the greater wisdom and deliberation in this matter. The Empyre is not engaged in a civil war, either. The internal disturbances make plausible the idea that non-Kingdom troops may be present in Avalon. This would be a matter to re-evaluate, however, after the conclusion of the Varati civil conflict, no matter what its outcome."

Creon holds the gaze for a moment, then shakes his head sadly, muttering more to his immediate surroundings, rather than replying to Claudius' answer, "Varati troops are Varati troops. One way or another. Quibbling about their loyalty to Khalid doesn't right a broken treaty."

Aristedes' chin angles upward thoughtfully, distant gaze focusing as it seeks out Claudius to study the older man. Three of his fingers brush against his chin in thoughtful taps, lips folding down into a frown. His expression betrays little, barely a dip of his chin bobbing before he returns to staring tensely at his notes.

Claudius' impassioned speech brings a smile to Kalypso's face, and -- for the first time, a nod of approval to the Legate's words. Creon's quick interruption flattens the smile, easily enough. Or rather, the pettiness of the mumbling, rather than awaiting his turn to make a thoughtful representation of his House's stance.

Claudius raises an eyebrow to Creon. "Assuming they are rebel troops, for the present question. The treaty was between the Empyre, and the Varati Kingdoms. These rebel forces are outside of the Kingdoms' command, and thus the Varati Kingdoms did not break the treaty, any more than the Empyre did." He shrugs. "We may use this as an excuse to enter into a war," he says, "or not." Claudius looks to the Princeps, and dips his head if he has spoken out of turn.

"And quibbling over a chunk of wasted land isn't worth sending men and women to their deaths," comes a muttered comment, this time from the Augustin Aegian. Cassius glances toward Agrippina at his side, ready to duck should another wild blow strike in his direction.

Leonidas lifts his voice to say, "We are certain that we will hear more of House Thyriades' opinion, soon enough, dominus." And then he adds, with a nod to Claudius, "Well spoken, Ares. House Hyperion, if you will let us hear your voice?"

The former Praefect-turned-Aegian rises from his seat, aiding his rise by placing his leathered hands on either arm of the chair and pressing himself to his feet. A stiffness of age is obvious in Linus' posture, but a strength of his voice overrides the weakening of his body. He takes a moment to incline his head to the Princeps and clear his throat before addressing his fellow Aegians.

"I was trained to wield a gladius, not the prose many of you have been raised to brandish as your own weapon, so I shall keep my comments short and to the point. As has been the tradition of House Hyperion, our interests lie with those of Acesius; this is not a secret. However, even without the words of the venerable Dominus Acesius, I would be inclined to follow his way of thinking." He pauses a moment and glances briefly around the chamber before he continues.

"I have little doubt many of you were expecting me to rise and cry for Varati blood, being a Praetor myself and having sons who fought and died for this Empyre, but this fight is not ours. Not yet. Let the Varati weaken themselves internally while we re-build our own strength.

"I am angry that Arelate is no longer ours and I do want it back in Empyrean territory, where it rightfully belongs, but not until we have found sufficient weakness in the Varati who would challenge us." Linus glances briefly to the young Tritonides Dea who first mentioned the threat Khalid poses and adds, "With their God-King still in our midst, that would likely not be possible. I say we wait, my brothers and sisters -- rebuild our strength, and strike only when we know with certainty that Avalon can be ours again. That time might not come for many years down the road, but it certainly is not now." Another nod is given to Leonidas before Linus re-takes his seat.

Claudius nods to Linus' words, expressing his support for a fellow Praetor.

Cassius's pale eyes settle on Linus, and, like Claudius, he nods his agreement. The Hyperion delegate expressed much the same sentiment as he did.

Grey in clothing, grey in hair, silvered in the wings, only Agrippina's flesh needs to take on the color of death. Yet, she proves her continued existence by making another disdainful sniff. Her hands remain in her lap, but she looks sideways at Cassius, "A land under good government does not remain wasted."

"Perhaps you misheard part of my speech, domina," Cassius tells the woman at his side. "We can regain Arelate through less... militant means."

Vertinius's lips curve into a faint smile as Linus speaks, and he, too, inclines his head slightly in agreement as the other Aegian seats himself once more.

Agrippina snaps at Cassius, "You suggested that we aid Arelate. I suggested that we aid Arelate. However, there is no need to give Arelate back to the mongrels once we are done dispensing aid."

Leonidas inclines his head. "Our thanks, Hyperion. House Cyllene. Have you any words of wisdom to share with your fellow Aegians?"

After a bit of a one-two-three heave, Nimbus Alcyone Cyllene levers himself to his feet. He clasps his hands behind him, his well-fed belly arcing proudly before him and his mighty, pale-beige wings folded with attentive symmetry behind. He intones in a booming baritone, one benefit of his portly build:

"If there's one special quality the merchant houses bring to this assemblage, it's the ability to swing a good bargain. Now, by offering to assist Khalid against what factors have struck against him, or at least against those Varati factors that have set foot in Arelate, the Empyre stands to profit in a number of ways." He raises a thick forefinger to commence his list. He's not an elegant orator, apparently, not as well-schooled in dainty speech as the nobles, but he's practical. "First..."

Mildly, Cassius replies to the Juventas matriarch, "I never said we had to let the mongrels run it indefinitely." But further comments are cut off as he turns his attention to Nimbus, to listen to his speech.

"By even making the offer, we may discover whatever truth lies behind the the God-King's claim that no Varati forces were sent to Arelate at his command. If he refuses Empyreal aid and does not clean up the situation, we must assume that he condones their occupation. A blow to the treaty there, which would have to be discussed in a future assembly. And if he accepts..." Nimbus pauses to look around, tawny brows rising above cunning blue eyes, "we learn a great deal. Namely, there's big trouble among the Varati. That brings us to our second potential profit arena..."

"We demand that the territory of Arelate be returned to the Empyre in exchange for our aid in this matter," Nimbus continues, the ruddiness of his cheeks strengthening and his wings flexing once as he warms to his topic. "We strengthen future relations with the Varati in politics and trade, and we regain an economically beneficial... population," he says delicately, in reference to Avalon. Rather than raising a third finger, he clasps his hands thoughtfully behind his back again before moving onto his next point.

Unfortunately, a few pedarii in the back never heard anything beyond the 'offering to assist Khalid' part. There are gasps or horror and outrage, and a few Aegians shout down comments to their compatriot of Cyllene.

"Aid him? What next? Shall we trade him more of our women and children? He seems to be amassing a collection!"

"What can we expect from a commoner House? No pride, any of them..."

"Let's say that this bargaining chip is refused by the God-King. We could yet assist the Varati -- and then work the spin on the situation so that Arelate, too, is beholden to the Empyre and works smoothly with us in the future. The Empyre, fighting for the new nation's freedom against renegade Varati troops!" Nimbus takes a deep breath before he gets carried away in this plot he spins. "We become those patrons the Deus Augustin described, a beneficial role."

Agrippina has the look of a woman who wishes that her infirmity required that she use a cane, for before her stands an excellent target for such a weapon. Her eyes narrow in disgust at the thought of aiding Khalid. Her lips thin with distaste as the pusillanimous merchant talks of profiting by consorting with the enemy.

Cepheus' eyes begin to shift back and forth as the various Houses more or less squabble over even the basic idea of Arelate and what to do with it. The man 's neutral gaze gives him the appearance of one only mildly interested in the matters at hand.

A crack in Phineas' stoicism is evident at the words of the portly merchant. Lips purse into a thin, tight frown, and he barely manages to conceal a grimace. That's about as far as he'll go to express his own disapproval, whilst around him are more energetic grumblings.

"To sum up, what have we to lose by offering to assist the God-King in this matter? We have information to gain, and political and economic clout as well. It seems unlikely that any Varati uprising could defeat the forces of the Empyre, combined with the God-King, and at least the God-King is a known adversary with whom we have managed a treaty.

"Several of you, speaking against outright war, have argued that we must take the time to rebuild. So let us also enrich our political relationships -- if we cannot call them alliances -- and protect our trade, with the Varati and with the mongrel territory." Nimbus pauses, and looks around one last time at his contacts and others, his periwinkle eyes at the same time cool and fiery with the desire for a profitable peace.

"I urge you, Dominii and Dominae, to at least offer the Empyre's assistance to Khalid, for these many motives which could serve us well." The Cyllene patriarch jerks his head forward in a slight bow to the Princeps, and re-assumes his plush seat.

For once, Linus joins in some of his fellow Aegians and displays some show of emotion to the speaker in question. He may not want to fight against the Varati at the moment, but he certainly doesn't wish to fight with them either. A dark scowl paints itself across his lips as he leans over to a fellow Praetorian Aegian to make his own, quiet, comment.

Nero looks ready to stone the representative of Cyllene where he stands, but he lacks the weapon even as Agrippina lacks hers. "Disgusting," he shouts. Livus and Basilius do not even try to quiet him down. "We cannot bed the enemy for profit. It will make us his puling subjects. This is an outrage!"

"We have our pride to lose!" shouts one rather vehement Aegian from the top tier. "Will you barter our pride for a profit, merchant? Will you turn our nation into a lot of belly-crawling, spineless followers of that -- that glorified halfbreed they call a king?!"

Maximus Livus has agreed with all the speakers for peace, so far. Yet, he appears to find it difficult to swallow the idea of deliberately aiding Khalid in maintaining his tyrannical grip. He gapes at the merchant like a landed fish.

Vertinius sighs quietly, shaking his head, though his gaze remains focused on the mosaic which dominates the floor of the chamber.

A shout rises from the heights of the chamber, drifting down in a garbled tenor, "Let the man have his say and sit down! You'll all get your turn!"

Unlike many of his fellows, however, Cassius Augustin's expression shows no outrage. If anything, he looks thoughtful, speculative. He leans back in his chair and strokes a finger across his chin while he rests his gaze on the Cyllene patriarch, heedless of the indignant shouts raining down around him.

Creon looks grimmer and more determined than before. The speeches delivered before showed signs of weakness and cowering, agreed, but Nimbus' speech was the last straw. Giving up all sense of dignity and strength to become a willing puppy of the enemy is too much for Creon to give in. And, hopefully, for the Aegis as well.

Claudius would have suggested aiding Khalid nominally, in that it would add fuel to the rebel's fire, but he expected this sort of reaction. Really, it's just not feasible.

"Indeed," Leonidas interrupts, and does so with perhaps surprising force. "You will all be given an opportunity to make your voices heard. Ours is not to shout down one House for daring to look at a situation in a manner our own may not have considered. Well spoken, Cyllene, and our thanks for your ... daring. Thyriades, will you stand forth?"

Fingers slacken from their grip on parchment, Aristedes' papers falling into a collective heap within his lap. Slightly slackjawed, he can only shake his head vigorously in startled disapproval, muttering a few terse words to the Aegian beside him. "...think we have no pride...?" Scowling openly, a few incoherent mutters garble in his throat before he manages to return to brooding silence.

Creon stands up from his seat 'somewhere back there,' smoothing his aged silken toga. The state of the cloth reflects well the state of his own House. House Thyriades may still be noble, but no longer rich. It lost a lot with the last war; its estates in Arelate were given to those mongrels that have before served the House. Most of Thyriades' wealth was gone with the treaty of defeat, and what was not had to be paid to the winners as reparations. The demand for those goods Thyriades was famous for -- weapons and armor -- was naught, bringing the once-strong House to its knees. All it has left now is their pride and their belief in what is right, and what is wrong.

Very interesting. Nice and conniving, the most recent offer put forth by Nimbus, which is truly appreciated by Kalypso, although she would never admit such. The young Tritonis Dea appears mildly intrigued, but then Creon rises to speak. She turns a hard gaze towards him, as he begins to orate. She'll give listen to his words, though judging by the man's reactions most of the night, not pay them much mind.

Creon takes his time to look with his stern, steel-eyed gaze upon his audience, waiting for their full attention to settle upon him, before he raises his voice to address the assembly.

"When considering what is the right thing to do today, the first thing to do is look back to those events that let them happen." He takes a brief pause, then says in a much harder voice. "Over three years ago, the Varati stole from us the land that some call Avalon now. They claimed that they would leave this land to be ruled by the free mongrels. Yet we all know how little respect the Varati have for those who are not of their kind. A sovereign nation of mongrels to exist besides their own would be disastrous for their own society over the long course. We know this, and likewise, they have always known this. Now, can we assume that they really wished their servants and slaves to be free from their own rule forever, encouraging to desert them?" The way the middle-aged Deus' face has reddened by now, it doesn't seem like he's going to give the council the chance to answer this question on their own.

Nimbus is not about to clamber from his seat again, but his cheeks grow even more crimson -- not in embarrassment, but in anger. Always conscious, however, of the tentative position the commoner classes hold in the Aegis, he does not express his fury right away. And while he decides how to respond most wisely, the floor is given to his successor.

Creon takes a long breath in, then booms, "NO! The Varati did not dare to claim our land their own, but they knew it was a matter of time until they'd lay their hands upon it. All this talk about unrest among the Varati and seeking Council with the mongrels denies the facts: the land is and should still be the Empyre's, and will always be. And the Varati have broken their own word they have given with the treaty." The course of his speech is clear, yet the final conclusion is not reached. Not yet.

Nero, Livus and Basilius appear mollified that not all the Aegians speaking are dangerous Khalid-loving lunatics. All three pedarii make sounds of agreement as Creon orates.

Awaiting the first reaction to his strongly accusing words, the reddened face of the usually pale man calms down a little, his speech becoming more analytical once again.

"Now, the Empyre has often regained land that was stolen from them in the past. The war three years ago caught the Empyre unprepared. It was the 'Varati'--" Creon almost spits the word now, "--and their accursed Fire-King who had the initiative and the upper hand back then. Now, it seems that their situation is weaker than ever. Khalid cannot strike back at us while his own empire is falling apart. Yet we have used the time well to regain our strength. Perhaps now is the only chance we have to reclaim what is ours, and show the world the might of the Empyre.

"History shows us that the Varati, again under the lead of Khalid, even managed to lay their hands on this holy place. Yet in a time of his weakness, we wrestled it back from them. The situation of the Varati was perhaps not much different then as it is now. Should we really all shrug this affair off with an attitude of 'none of our business?' Should we only watch when the word that was given to us is broken? What image does that give of our strength, our pride and our dignity?"

While Creon's answers to those questions are implied, he does not give them explicitly here. With a quiet, polite, "Thank you for listening," he sits down once again, his gaze wandering to judge the reaction of his call to arms.

Fingers drum quietly on the young Legate's knee, Cepheus' eyes hardening some as the conversation turns to yet another direction. A brief glance is given to his sister as Creon speaks, although it lasts for but an instant.

Maximus Livus regains his breath to whisper fiercely at Claudia Antonius. It is obvious that he is rapidly denying that Creon's argument has any validity, but Domina Claudia appears disposed to consider the more aggressive path.

A murmur of agreement and some enthusiastic, "Hear hear"s follow the close of Creon's speech -- these from some of the older, more traditional Aegians, as well as a few of the younger ones, eager to prove their mettle.

Leonidas nods yet another time. "Well-said, Thyriades. Are there other representatives who would make themselves known to the rest of our assembly?"

But some of the less intrepid shout, "You're assuming they've broken the treaty!"

"What will history have to say about Empyreal wisdom if we are the treaty breakers, and are defeated yet again?"

Agrippina makes a curt nod of agreement as Creon finishes. She gives Cassius a piercing look that says, a real man stands up for his values and a real man doesn't slouch in his chair.

Cassius is no longer slouching, at least. He meets Agrippina's piercing glare levelly, merely raising one eyebrow in response, before he turns his attention back to the podium and the Princeps.

"Then, hearing no further voices, we come to the point in our session where we must cast lots on the issues discussed, and commit ourselves to a course of action. There are several issues before us. I will name them, as we come to them, and I will ask a vote of aye, or nay, from each House. Please state your houses when responding," says the Princeps.

"In the first," Leonidas calls out, "there is the issue of aid to Avalon. How do we vote?"

"Yea, from House Augustus," Cassius is one of the first to call out.

Vertinius rises to his feet and calls out, "Acesius votes 'nay.'"

Linus rises and announces, "Hyperion votes nay."

Aristedes' voice rings out clear and confidently as he rises to vote, "Nay, from House Thanatos."

Standing, Phineas raises his voice, "Fortuna votes yea."

Kalypso rises from her seat, voice loud and clear. "Tritonis votes yea."

Agrippina announces her vote sturdily, "Juventas, Yea."

Nero cries out, "Rufinus, Yeah." He is followed by similar cries by Livus and Basilius.

It could aid future trade relations, and it also fits in somewhat with his scheme. Nimbus doesn't make the effort to get out of his chair, but booms, "Cyllene, Aye."

Claudius stands. "Ares votes yea."

Maximus Livus says, "Silvanus, Yea." Claudia Jovia Antonius also pronounces a vote for yea.

Creon calls out from his seat, "Thyriades votes nay!"

As the cries ring out within the venerable halls of the Aegian basilica, there seems to be a majority of 'yeas.' The fact that both Jove and Tritonis advocated lending aid to the so-called mongrel nation must have swayed a number of voters.

The 'nays' are vehement, and shouted from the lips of many of the more traditional Aegians who can't stand the idea of encouraging a nation that once belonged to their Empyre; or else they come from conservatives who have no wish to involve themselves in the matter. But the 'yeas' are predominant.

Leonidas waits until the votes are in, and recorded, then he speaks again. "In the second, the matter of instigating an attack on the Varati nation while it appears, to some, to be divided. How do we vote?"

Claudius votes, "Nay," clearly.

"Nay, from Acesius," arises from Vertinius' chair.

With a rustle of his wings and a troubled frown marring his expression, Cassius calls out, "Augustus votes nay."

There's little hesitation before Phineas announces, "Fortuna votes nay."

And following, a very clear -- and ringing, "Tritonis says nay," from Kalypso.

"Hyperion votes nay," again from Linus.

And an abrupt "Cyllene, Nay," is called.

Firm, and loudly, Aristedes votes, "Thanatos votes nay."

Creon appears hesitant for a moment. He has advocated a reclaim of Arelate, but that did not exactly equal an attack on the Varati nation. Not yet, anyway. His gaze shoots over to Agrippina, awaiting her call.

Nero shouts out, "Rufinus votes Yea." Livus and Basilius shout out yeas as well.

Agrippina grinds her teeth and does not immediately answer. Finally, she says, "Juventas votes Nay." She seems displeased with having to make this her answer, but her plan was for reclaiming Avalon, not directly attacking the Varati.

Maximus Livus calls out, "Silvanus, Nay."

Claudia Antonius also calls out, "Nay."

With a look of guilty admission on his face, Creon gives in with a hesitant, almost shameful "Thyriades votes nay."

So much for real men voting with their convictions.

There are a few sporadic 'yeas' here and there, gruffly-voiced from throats gone bitter with hatred for those ancient foes. But the 'nays' far outnumber those angry shouts. And perhaps the Empyre can breathe a collective sigh of relief -- this time, war has been averted.

For now.

"In the third," Leonidas says. "The matter of aiding the Varati nation, should the notion of civil war be a truth. How do we vote?"

Vertinius calls out, firmly, "Acesius votes nay."

In a quick and sharp tone, Linus announces, "Hyperion votes nay!"

Claudius votes quickly and easily. "Ares votes nay."

Again, little hesitation. Phineas calls, "Fortuna votes nay."

Creon is quick to answer this one, a determined, "Thyriades votes nay," escaping him. A desperate attempt to reclaim the title as real man.

And the testosterone level in the room inches up a little. Ah, real men, doing manly things.

Cassius darts a brief glance toward the portly figure of Nimbus, the patriarch of Cyllene. His vote is not immediately forthcoming, and another subdued rustle of his wings precedes it. "Augustus votes... nay," he answers at last.

"Tritonis votes nay." Kalypso's voice is swift, with no hesitation like that of Cassius.

With a glance around at his fellow merchant Aegians, Nimbus votes, "Cyllene, Aye."

Words tumble from Nero's mouth as if he cannot hold onto them. "Rufinus votes Nay."

Livus screams, "Nay."

Basilius also howls shouts out, "Nay."

Agrippina seems extremely satisfied and she expounds heartily, "Juventas, Nay."

Aristedes' shoulders roll back stiffly, before his voice chimes in with those around him, "Thanatos votes nay."

Maximus Livus barks out, "Silvanus votes Nay."

Yet, his companion breaks on this vote. Claudia Jovia Antonius looks at the representative from Cyllene and her clear voice says, "Aye."

The 'yeas' for Varati aid are even fewer in number than those advocating an attack on Khalid Atar's kingdom. They tend to come from smaller, merchant Houses, whose endeavors tend to put them in closer contact with merchants from other races; thus, they do not share the blind hatred many of their companions bear toward their long-standing foes. But those 'yeas' are voiced without much hope, and indeed, the 'nays' drown out the more liberal votes. While the Empyre will not go to war with the Varati, neither will it make much attempt to solidify its relations with them.

A brief murmur goes through some of the crowd after Claudia Antonius speaks the vote for her House -- some wishing, perhaps, they'd not spoken quite so quickly.

Nimbus rubs his chin lightly, speculative blue eyes drifting over to Claudia Antonius. Intriguing; at least someone here can think on a complex level when it comes to the Varati.

"In the fourth, and final," Leonidas says, with some satisfaction, "the notion of remaining as we are, observers, to await the end of the Varati conflict and make our decisions then."

Finally. Vertinius' solid voice is one of the first to lift. "Acesius votes yea."

"Tritonis votes yea, as well." Kalypso's voice is quick to rise, as well.

Claudius nods his assent. "Ares votes yea."

Aristedes straightens and is quick to throw in his vote in this matter, "Thanatos votes yea."

Not far behind Apollo's house, Linus votes. "Aye from Hyperion."

Agrippina votes soundly, thumping her fist against the arm of her chair. "Juventas votes Nay."

Finally, the question that makes the difference for Creon. The one reason he came here tonight. "Thyriades votes nay," he calls against the resistance of the major Houses.

A thoughtful pause precedes Phineas' decision, "Fortuna votes nay."

With a sigh -- either of relief or disappointment, or mere exhaustion, for the meeting did last for several hours -- Cassius sits back in his chair, lifts a hand to rub at his temples, and votes, "Yea. From Augustus."

Nero calls out, "Rufinus, Nay."

Livus and Basilius both call out, "Nay."

Maximus Livus cries, "Silvanus, Aye."

Once again, Claudia Jovia breaks with her seating companion. She cries out, "Antonius, Nay."

A slight movement happens behind Claudius, the form of Cepheus noiselessly crouching and moving toward one of the cowled exits that lurks behind a nearby pillar. Apparently, the Praetor has had about enough of the political happenings, or perhaps he has just seen enough for this day.

Claudius notes Cepheus go, and idly wonders if his fellow Legate has ever visited a butcher making sausage.

Clearly not having won his point with the Aegis, what else is there to do but war or wait? And war is uncomfortable; silks and chocolate don't flow so smoothly when the Empyreans war with the Varati. So, wait and think some more. "Cyllene, Aye," from Nimbus.

The chorus of 'yeas' and 'nays' is less disparate this time; there are many Empyreans who would prefer to do something, rather than simply wait out the feud. But in the end, the fact that all three of the Great Houses voted yea weighs heavily on the congregation. And when the final tally is taken and double-checked, the 'yeas' are in the majority.

With that -- didn't darling Leo say it was the final matter? -- Kalypso turns, preparing to depart. After all, she's a baby at home, no doubt waiting to be fed. And nobody else able to do it. So, with her long, gliding steps, she moves towards the door, darting about those who might be in her way, in her hurry to be one of the first to leave.

Claudius stands, and stretches his wings. He has a long, long flight ahead of him. Back to the front.

Now that the entire matter is finished, Phineas bends to gather what precious few scrolls he had brought with him on this little outing. A respectful nod is given to many of his colleagues, and as he drifts toward the exit, he is accosted by several acquaintances. Thus accompanied, he is soon to depart.

Creon looks disappointed and disgruntled at the final result. He had obviously expected more involvement by his fellow Aegians, and more spine. For him, the saddest state of the Empyre is not that they have lost against the Varati years ago. But that the strongest speech meant to give some fire and pride back to the ruling race was made by a 70-year-old woman.

And so, with that final tally, the assembly of the Aegis is over, and tired men and women rise from their chairs, stretch limbs and wings, and consider the ramifications of what they've just voted on. Some are satisfied. Some are not. Most are just eager to return home to families and loved ones -- to bed, and much-needed rest. The Empyre, at least, is safe from the threat of another war, and that brings consolation to many.

FIN  

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