Ask The Sorcerer, The Lord, and The Monarch

[Iymril]

Iymril slightly quirked an eyebrow at Arcanos’ comment. The suggestion was clear and cause the Sephi to give a short, nasally, amused snort in response. It was the closest anyone had gotten to a laugh from them in the better part of a decade.

“In that case, the oil you gave me will come in use.” They replied, in pure deadpan. “Thank you for the praise, Darth Arcanos. I aim to please after all.” Iymril stated with a nod of respect.

Once Arcanos was comfortable in the convertible speeder, Iymril would slide into the seat beside him. They watched in silence as they left what Iymril assumed was the royal and aristocratic quarter and began to delve into the slums. Here, the destitute lived in three and four story hovels.

“Could you imagine living such a wretched meaningless existence?” They asked idly as the speeder passed a house with only one gardener on detail.

However, as they proceeded deeper into the city, things only got progressively worse. At one point, Iymril saw a man mowing their own yard. They instinctively locked their door, despite the roof to the speeder being down. It was then that Arcanos’ words drew them from looking at the horrors of the poors.

Their head dipped in reply. “There are some fates worse than calling yourself Anfynn.” They replied breezily. “It allows me a level of anonymity that I appreciate.” They continued. “Plus, if there are any unfortunate accidents they will contact and blame the Anfynn.” That thought made ripple of joy roll down their spine.

When the speeder rolled into an even poorer district Iymril leaned away from their door. They looked away from the window, worried that if they looked one of those wretches in the eyes, it would approach the speeder. Their ears pinned themselves back in disgust and shock.

“That one’s shoes are made from pleather and cloth.” They muttered in disgust.

That was when Arcanos pointed out that they’d have to appear as less royal. They’d have to blend in with commoners. Iymril wanted to vomit at those words but they contained themself.

“I’m…inexperienced with commoners.” They admitted. “Could you guide me on their customs?”

@Sreeya

 

[Darth Arcanos]

Azar listened to Iymril’s color commentary as they passed through the city. The Pureblood remained largely silent, carrying himself with dignified poise. Though he could be theatrical around his partners, he was rather calm and observant around people he kept at arm’s length. He was still silently appraising Iymril and deciding what to make of them.

When Iymril spoke about the blame lying with Annfyn, Azar pondered on that note, “Perhaps you still have some attachments to Thustra to avoid fallback on it,” He said aloud without looking at Iymril. Azar knew nothing of Iymril’s story, nor did he care, but any Sith worth their salt had ambitions. And Azar would find out the Sephi’s ultimate goal before long.

The remark about pleather and cloth drew out a light chuckle from Azar. He couldn’t deny that was horrifying even for him. However, the Pureblood wouldn’t join in on the quips, still keeping a respectable distance. Azar didn’t ascend to where he was without observing first.

Iymril’s next question, however, made Azar bristle. They were asking Azar how to act like a commoner? He smiled faintly, finally glancing at the Sephi, “Between the two of us, I am the King and Sith Lord,” He stated calmly, “I trust that you can pull that pretty, delusional head of yours out of your own rear long enough to apply some common sense and adapt to scenarios,” He said breezily as the speeder arrived. The implications in his tone were clear - if Iymril stepped out of line like that again their head would be removed. Azar glanced down at his ornate chrono, “We are here,” He said simply as he unclasped the expensive chrono and stashed it away before sliding out of the speeder.

“If you cannot adapt, I suggest you keep your mouth shut, Champion, and let me do the talking,” Azar called out to the Sephi without looking back at them as they approached one of the doonium factories.

@Apollyon

 

[Iymril]

Iymril felt the blood in their veins run cold when Arcanos mentioned Thustra. The Sephi’s ears flicked slightly with nervous irritation. The Sith Lord was right, of course. Thustra was still home for Iym but it was also a place they had sacrificed ever returning to. They had to in order to get where they were now.

Or at least that’s what they told themself.

It wouldn’t be until Iymril had a momentary lapse in their usually good judgement, that reality dawned on them once more. They hadn’t meant to insult Darth Arcanos. They hadn’t meant to imply he was a commoner. But they had insulted him.

It felt like all the work, the ground, the rapport they had carefully been constructing collapsed around them. Their ears fell, not slightly but completely. Their normally tightened jaw loosened in despair. And their eyes fell from Arcanos in a sign of submission and supplication.

They didn’t speak or try to defend themself. They’d caused enough damage by recklessly talking. Instead, they silently followed Arcanos’ example; they plucked their earrings from their ears, rings from their fingers, and chrono from their wrist. They’d slide out of the speeder behind the Sith Lord and fall into step just to his left side and three paces behind him.

No more needless speaking. No more stupid observations. No more favor lost. They’d prove their usefulness, even if it was as a bland and boring sorcerous adept. They didn’t need to be friends with Arcanos, they just needed him to want to keep them around. To want to give them that coveted professor’s title. That was it.

With their goal in mind, Iymril accepted Arcanos’ continued tongue lashing. They’d earned his ire. They would endeavor to regain his favor at the next opportunity.

——————

As the pair approached, a pair of guards would step from the entry way to a Doonium processing facility. Each one carried a medium blaster strength carbine in their hands, a light blaster pistol on their hips, and a bandoleer of assorted grenades and energy cells across their chests. One of them, a female human lifted a hand from the grip of her blaster carbine and signaled for the two to stop.

“Whaddya want?” She asked, her eyes flicked between the two twinks. One a tall space elf and the tiny Pureblood.

@Sreeya