Markus
When it came to Penemue, Markus would admit he knew very, very little outside of three things.
Firstly, Penemue was Kokabel’s one and only ally, and had been since the Covenant of Houses had been made between them many, many generations before.
Secondly, though Penemue was currently nothing like Kokabel, at one time it had been identical to it - twin kingdoms on either side of the largest mountain in their realm. Today, while Kokabel was largely ruled by tradition, Penemue was ruled by etiquette and social standings.
Lastly, Penemue was a kingdom of increasingly conflicting cultures. One culture reigned in the capital, where the royal family and all important forms of government resided. The second culture, though not entirely dissimilar, had once enveloped the entire kingdom, but now only existed in the towns and villages that dotted the kingdom in its extensive forests. Markus knew little of either culture though, other than their fashions were distinct from Kokabel.
He knew a bit more about the royal family, but that was easy. There were, of course, just three members.
The first was King, Harold, who was his father’s Godfather.
The second was Aden, the King’s youngest son, and the third was Wilhelm, Aden’s only son. There had been five other members before, five brothers of Aden, but all five had perished during the war.
Markus had seen Harold on several occasions, the King coming to visit at least once a year for a few weeks during the winter solstice, as Penemue was choked in snow during this time and the King was old and enjoyed the warm, seaside temperatures. Harold was, to say the least, very temperamental. Markus had been told by his father that this was because Harold had had a very horrible life, and that he had had to overcome many terrible things to survive as long as he had. What these terrible things were, Markus did not know. He did know, however, that Harold was exceptionally close to Antonius’ mother, Helen. She and Harold had gone on many adventures together in their youth and because of this closeness, all of Markus’ Aunts adored Harold and would fawn over him. To Markus' Aunts, father, and mother, Harold was the most heroic and daring of heroes, only second to Helen herself, who they all had worshiped.
Wilhelm was a little bit more mysterious. Markus had not seen him since they were children, shortly before the other prince had been kidnapped by Fae, the sworn enemy of Harold and the creation of Harold’s father, Edgar.
While Kokabel had Lycan, Penemue had Fae - right up until Harold ascended the throne, anyway, when he immediately and famously purged the realms of the Fae by sentencing them all to death. Only a few remained and one of them had stolen a young Wilhelm. He was rescued a few months after that and locked away in a well-protected tower behind Harold’s palace, where he spent the rest of his childhood. Wilhelm refused to let anyone enter the tower until he was allowed out, and as Harold refused that, Markus had not seen him since. To his knowledge, Wilhelm was still in the tower, screaming out the window as Harold screamed up at him from the garden, both red faced and furious at each other.
Aden was someone that Markus had only seen exactly once, and that had been in passing. According to his father, Aden was left terribly disturbed after the death of his twin brother, Adam. Now, he was in a catatonic state. Mostly. As Markus had witnessed, Aden seemed more than capable of pouring himself a drink and sipping from it, though, but other than that...completely catatonic.
Markus reflected on these things as he followed Cydonia to the guest housing just outside the walls of the palace, facing the ocean. Here, the rare visitor to their kingdom was kept - usually, this was only Harold, but occasionally the prime minister of Penemue, the head of Penemue's elected government, would come as well to stay for a few nights like he did when Antonius had ascended.
As they approached the regal looking building, Markus saw Malia was stationed at the door with an excited look. When they arrived she hurried over and reached out for Cydonia, holding onto the back of her sister's head when she came to her. “Guess who it is Penemue sent to make the identification, sister!”
Cydonia kept her gaze on the other woman, trying to figure her out. When Malia slowly smirked, then grinned, Cydonia matched her smile and Markus was left bemused. He’d never seen either grin. Smirk. Smile slyly, but never grin. “No,” Cydonia said around her smile. “They didn’t!”
“It seems brother sent his Godfather a very convincing letter,” Malia said gleefully. She and Cydonia began to shake with laughter and pressed their forehead together - a frequent gesture made between his Aunts when they wanted to celebrate - before they broke apart, Cydonia then spinning on her heel to walk backward into the house, motioning for Markus with a crooked finger. “Come, nephew! Now is the time for the tides to begin the turn in your favor!”
Markus frowned bu'st nodded, thoroughly off balance by the behavior of his Aunts. Just inside was Florence and Janis, who waited until Malia entered behind Markus to flake her.
Cydonia hurried off to the room at the center of the house while Markus followed at a slower pace. He could hear his Father’s joyous laughter, and then shortly after Cydonia’s excited shout and thought that it must have been the King himself, which was a bit unusual, especially considering he couldn’t hear Harold's own voice, very distinctive and frequently shrill.
When Markus entered the room, he was immediately hit with the strong scent of soap. He then saw the glaring white of a uniform among the deep, lush colors of the fabric worn by the others in the room, the man from Penemue bent over a table examining a map, his back to Markus.
White fitted breeches. A long white riding coat. Dark knee high boots with covered toes and silver tassels at top front. When the man from Penemue reached out to drag a finger to trace a river on the map, Markus saw his hands were in crisp white gloves.
His breath hitched and he made a choked noise as an overwhelming feeling of nostalgia washed over him. It was a strange sort of familiarity. It ached in his heart, as well as in his head. Made his skin flush and prickle, his face tingle and burn.
The other man stilled, hearing him. Slowly he straightened himself, his back still to Markus. After a beat, he slowly turned and Markus saw a yellow green gaze, stained with an uneven red blush at the bottom of each iris. Which was wrong. Markus wasn’t sure why, but he knew it was the wrong color. His face as well was...wrong. Just...wrong. Everything else was very, very familiar but...the face. The eyes. They didn't belong, and Markus felt the air let out of his lungs, leaving him tired and a little sad.
The other man turned to face him fully with a tight expression. “Hello, Markus.” He said, looking over Markus with distaste. “I was told you were out on a campaign.” The man said with utter and clear disinterest.
Markus knew that tone of voice. “Wilhelm.” Markus replied in half amazement to his Penemue counterpart, the Grandson to Penemue’s king, the heir to Penemue’s throne.
Truly, Wilhelm fit the part of a Penemue spawn – willowy build, a long nose stuck up in the air, neither attractive or unattractive in appearance, but nonetheless Markus had to shake off the surprise at the sight of the other man. Markus was not stupid. He knew Wilhelm would have grown since their last face to face meeting some ten years before at Julius’s funeral, but Markus had never quite been able to summon any other image than the snot nosed boy who hid behind his Grandfather’s shins and always had a weepy, distasteful look about him.
Now he was nearly a head taller than Markus, with the same cold look as his Grandfather, though Wilhelm lacked the cruel sharpness to his gaze that Harold was known for. There was still a tightness in his movement as he moved to hold his hands at his side, an appearance to him that spoke of a person constantly on edge, which he had possessed as a child as well but seemed far more intense now.
The Penemue prince, with a pear colored gaze to Markus’s own fig, turned his nose sourly at him. “You look well, grown into your boots I see.” He eyed Markus’s sandals with a pointed look. “Figuratively, of course.” He said distastefully in his crisp accent, his Latin perfect. Last time they had met, Wilhelm had shrilly refused to speak in anything other than his own native tongue, English, which Markus had no grasp of what so ever, and their exchanges had to be interpreted by Antonius, who was fluent in both languages as well as four others.
“Likewise.” Markus said in awe. “I wasn’t aware your grandfather allowed you out of your tower,” Markus said in earnest.
This seemed to set off Wilhelm, who stiffened and gritted his teeth, his face growing red in either embarrassment or anger. “I allowed myself out, thank you very much!” He shot back in a high, shrill tone that sounded just as it had when they were both children. Markus nodded with wide, impressed eyes as Wilhelm straightened himself, gave a dignified sniff, and then set his jaw. “Now what is this I hear of pixies?” He half snarled.
“Markus-” Antonius called from the other side of the table, where he and Cydonia stood, grinning eagerly. “Show him.”
Markus fished the adult pixie corpse from the bag on his hip and held it out to Wilhelm -
“You don’t expect me to touch it, do you?” Wilhelm said snottily. “It’s filthy. Put it on the table.” Markus moved forward to try and set it down- “Not on the map!” Markus put it above the map and Wilhelm leaned forward to examine it closely.
“So is it a pixie, Wilhelm?” Antonius asked lightly after a minute. “We weren’t sure. We heard what they looked like and what they did, but none of us had actually seen them besides Cydonia and Hesperia. And they lie!” He said excitedly. Cydonia shrugged and nodded with a smile as big as Anotinus' own.
Markus gave the pair bewildered looks, but neither looked to him. Instead, they were focused on the other prince. As this was how they acted around Harold, he suspected that the awe extended to all members of Penemue and this was just how they were going to act the rest of the visit. It was draining, to say the least, but Markus appreciated the scrutiny of his family being on someone else.
“Pixie, yes.” Wilhelm drawled as he prodded the corpse with a metal utensil, turning it over on its side, then onto its stomach. After a minute he turned it onto its back and used another utensil to open its eyes. He leaned forward to scrutinize it. “It’s not Bjorn’s, that much is for certain.” He mumbled.
“Bjorn.” Markus parroted, the name foreign on his tongue.
“Sariel’s only remaining progeny?” Wilhelm turned his head just enough to give Markus a sour look. “Don’t you know anything?”
“I do.” Markus said truthfully.
Wilhelm’s face fell and he rolled his eyes before turning to look back at the pixie. “I forgot how disgustingly earnest you are, Markus. It’s both annoying and refreshing.”
While Markus knew some English, he did not recognize the word ‘earnest’, but decided not to dwell on it. “How can you tell that it doesn’t belong to Bjorn?”
“It’s gaze,” Wilhelm said as he straightened, looking across the table to Cydonia, the Antonius. “The ring around its pupil is vermillion, the color of the pomegranate blossom, not the fruit.”
“Then the Queen,” Cydonia said with a nod.
“Yes. Likely a descendant of one of the pixies Bjorn’s mother sired.” Wilhelm gave the air a sniff before he swiftly pulled a handkerchief from his jacket to cover his nose with it, muttering about something smelling foul. He looked Markus over suspiciously before he caught sight of Florence carrying in an incense stick. With a wave of his hand, the windows all opened with a snap and he relaxed while everyone else in the room, Markus included, raised their eyebrows. Telekinesis was a very rare ability found only in the most powerful of mentalists and Wilhelm had just used it with ease.
“It could still be sent by Bjorn,” Malia said from where she entered behind Markus.
“Not likely,” Wilhelm said firmly. “It is to my knowledge that he hasn’t ascended the throne.” He dropped the handkerchief onto the pixie then to cover its wide, unseeing eyes and gaping mouth. “He can not control beasts that are not of his own personal creation until he has done so, obviously.” He said snidely.
“And you are certain he has not ascended?” Antonius asked.
“Yes,” Wilhelm said plainly. “He will not do so until the sons of Gadreel have returned to our realm. Neither kingdom ascends unless the other is present. They are chaotic creatures, but the few things they hold holy, they stick to, and ascension traditions are one of them.”
“And we know for certain they have not returned?” Cydonia asked, shooting a look over Markus’s shoulder to where Markus assumed Malia stood.
“I’m sure if they had returned, we would have known. They aren’t the type to do things quietly.” Wilhelm cleared his throat. “Now - what other signs of Sariel have been seen?”
“There are the nix sighting.” Antonius chirped, “Four of them.”
“Four?” Wilhelm asked skeptically. “Where?” Antoninus and Cydonia moved forward to the map at the same time, each pointing out two of the spots quickly. Wilhelm looked down his nose at the spots. “One of those looks like a lake. The other is a river coming from Lackland Mountain.”
“They are!” Antonius declared.
“Than you’re telling me, in theory, Sariel sent not only saltwater nix, but freshwater ones as well?”
“I-is-” Antonius laughed nervously, “Is there a difference?”
Wilhelm’s eyelids fluttered, like he wanted to roll his eyes. “A very big difference, yes.” He said with a pinched look. “There are only male saltwater nix and only female freshwater nix. Their motivations for ever leaving Sariel are entirely different - I highly doubt there are any freshwater nix here. It’s just not in their usual behavior.”
“Strange times…” Cydonia said cryptically with the same smile. “Who knows what they’ll do.”
“Creatures are very predictable once you understand their motivations,” Wilhelm stated in a dull tone.
“But a creature will always do as their master tells it. That must be factored in.” Cydonia pointed out.
Wilhelm looked her over. “And what motivation would Sariel have in sending a freshwater nix to your lands?”
Cydonia shrugged a shoulder. “Nix are good at drowning things. The only easy way to kill a member of our clan is to drown them.”
“But at what cost?” Wilhelm drawled. “Sariel don’t treat their creatures as disposable objects as others might. Each and every one of their creations are very precious to them - their nix especially. One of you isn’t worth a hundred nix to them. They only time they’ve ever sent them out if an attack was imminent - within days, hours even.”
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