Private Tales A Civil Talk

[Halul]

A handful of Immortals and several more trainees assisted in returning the Annuaki horses to their stables. It was the last of four days of training, and for most of the morning and afternoon, drills were practiced outside of the walls of Annuakat to train the Madrasa of War's young conscripts to fight from horseback. While it was indeed possible to do in Ragash, Uvogin preferred the high-quality facilities that Annuakat had to offer.

The captain looked over green pastures and well-kept grounds from a balcony; A dark, rich cup of steaming coffee rested on the wooden railing at his waist. The Immortals and trainees would return to their temporary barracks and rest for the evening before returning to Ragash the next day. Instead of wearing his fearsome black armor, Uvogin wore a pale, lightly colored tunic and shawl. Subtle golden cuffs squeezed the single, thin braid of hair that hung over the side of his face, and a gold bracelet dangled on his wrist.

He turned in from the balcony, coffee in hand, and returned to his host.

"Again, I thank you for lending your horses to us." He flatly addressed Mago Matahari.

 

[Baenon]

The Prince had taken up residence on an ornate gilded chair depicting carvings of scorpions. In one hand a steaming cup of coffee, in the other an unfurled scroll of papyrus detailing the chosen steeds for the training exercises and their daily regiments with the riders. All looked in order and everyone had gotten through the last several days with minimal injuries and offenses. Uvogin's men were solid riders, but the untenable nature of putting war horses with new charges had a way of bringing about unexpected results from time to time.

To note, a stallion called Harrosh had pitched three separate men in the stretch of a single day. While not necessarily out of character for that particular horse, it did beg the question that something other than three trained horsemen was amiss.

"Of course, Captain," Mago replied good-naturedly, setting the scrolls aside, "considering the circumstances and the likelihood of imminent war on the horizon, I have seen to pull aside select bloodlines to produce specifically for the Emperor's needs over the next several years. This exercise was rather proving."

He would need to introduce some heavier stock into the lines to carry these larger men and their full armor. Annuakati warriors did not go to war in such dress and, therefore, their warhorses had never needed to carry the weight.

"Was there something else you wished to speak on?"

 

[Halul]

Uvogin sipped his coffee while he attentively listened to the Prince speak. He watched as vividly colorful eyes, made even more so from being set into skin the color of rich mahogany, switched between the unfurled scroll and himself. What stunning eyes.

The captain placed his cup onto an empty saucer with a soft clink and sat adjacent to Mago in a chair that was notably less ornamented than the Prince's.

"All the better that we may both benefit from this arrangement."

He sipped more coffee as the Prince posed his question.

"Hm? Our business is concluded, is it not?" He responded with a question of his own, his tone still characteristically flat. "What... what else would we speak on?"

 

[Baenon]

"So it would seem," Mago replied, quietly sipping at his coffee, "though there persists a rumor that you have been meaning to request my youngest son be conscripted into the Immortals."

The Prince bared his teeth, sucking air through them as if the notion of such a thing were as appealing as willingly drinking poison, "I can only put this so delicately ... " Mago turned those stunning eyes of his directly upon the Captain, " ... no."

 

[Halul]

Uvogin looked down at his coffee. He had to process what exactly the Prince had just said.

"No, that rumor," the captain looked up from the coffee and met Mago's gaze, "that is not true."

An awkward silence fell over the two, and Uvogin picked up the cup of coffee, swirled it, but did not drink.

"Are there other rumors about me?"

 

[Baenon]

"Good," Mago replied. Though the word was simple, it held the potential of unnerving finality on the matter.

Cup empty, the Prince quietly smiled at Uvogin's next question. A silent moment stretched into a deep, clean chuckle, "For certain, there are myriad rumors about us all. Such is the life in court, in a place where words and belief are not mutually exclusive."

A dark hand rapped knuckles lightly across the tabletop before the man pushed out his chair and stood, "I do my best to keep my head out of the sand unless it begins to creep into my private affairs."

Smoothing his robes, Mago's gaze followed an attendant as she stepped forward to take up his plate and cup before offering Uvogin a second serving.

"If you'll excuse me, I promised my son an afternoon in the chariots."