Greed Is Good

~

“Ah, I could say the same for you. I feel each time I see you, you have remained the picture of spirited enterprise as my human half inches me closer to the grave.” Erin joked with a humble gesture. “But thank you, you flatter me.” Nik’s words sparked an almost sardonic humor in him. It had been nearly two centuries since the pair first met and while the half elf didn’t look much different now, he certainly did his utmost to not let the weight of the years show in his actions. To Erin’s delight, the elf across from him seemed unchanged. “Much has changed since then.” He added, tone thick with fond reminiscing.

“True enough.” The vasharr agreed, a neutral smile still on his face. He didn’t care for the deeper moral debate surrounding his business. There were fine lines he drew around himself. Moral guidelines that he did not cross and that he was comfortable in. The rest was permissible and, in his eyes, if they weren’t the ones providing these services- someone would just as quickly rise up to take their place in the grand scheme of things. 

Erin listened intently as the elf mentioned restructure, unsure of what Nikolai referred to. Though he wouldn’t pry, a silent respect that their business was their own except where it intersected. He did, however, straighten at the mention of what he assumed was a job and a partial reason for the meeting. “You know I am always at your service, how can I help?”

-

"But you never fall to your grave.” Nikolai summarizes astutely. “There’s little in this realm that can bring you there, it seems. What is that old saying? When the realm seizes to exist, only the immoral will survive?” It was better said by the poet (or was it a bard?) that entertained at his last event in Vailpas. The entertainer knew its audience, for it remained in his mind even long after the fact. “Including your success. I should loathe you for abandoning my ranks so quickly.” Nikolai feigned disappointment, though there was little effort required. Erinwel’s aptitude for such a business was second-to-none. Great talent and a willigness to do what needed to be done. While the arms dealer was unhappy to see him go, he understood the need. It’s exactly what Nikolai would have done. “But I’ll forgive you,”

Wordlessly, he comes to his feet, abandoning his goblet of wine. The elf turns his attention to the credenza occupying the dining room. With a flick of his wrist, he unlatched the top drawer and summoned a golden talisman. Circular in make, with a gold chain around it. Nothing remarkable, to the uneducated eye. A simple set of words and symbols transcribed, set with a stone in the center. Nikolai pulls a seat beside Erin, handing him the talisman. “A special and rather private client of mine requested these.” Nikolai informs him. “It’s meant to counteract the magical disturbance from the eclipse. Akin to the enchantments placed upon the magaestariums. I have a crate to be delivered to Elysi, which would be simple enough.” He shrugs, a knowing glimmer in his eye. “But it’s ensuring its anonymity, you see.”

…

“But not whale,”  Avi replied with a sharp, brief smile, after Nikolai listed all of the spear’s attributes on what it could pierce.  “I do like a bit of history with weapons.  It’s oddly comforting, I find.”  To know his ancestors worked on design and creation, on modifications and improvements as the generations came and went.  Perhaps Petrov was the same way, but Avi assumed it was different for elves.  What happened for Avi’s family lifetimes ago happened in Nikolai’s actual lifetime.  

He squinted, then scoffed.  “And you’re still stinging, I see,” he murmured, studying the globe in his hand carefully.  “I’m afraid that’s the way the world works, Master Petrov.  When you deal with pirates, one should expect to be, well.  Pirated.  We made improvements, made it better for our purposes; in ways befitting our naval needs.”  Avi said that in a way that implied that Nikolai might not understand what those ways were.  He gave the elf a clipped bow of his head.   

“So on behalf of my family, I thank you.  If you like, I’ll offer a favour in return, of equal measure to what my ancestors ‘borrowed’ from you.” Avi’s dark eyes glinted as he surveyed the other man.  “I would agree that it’s only fair.”

He was treading on slippery ground by saying that, and Avi knew it.  They were talking about some old weapon design, which was ultimately meaningless when compared to the greater grievance between their families: the death of Natalia Petrov.  There were favour-arrangements that dealt with death in Loqoala, but Avi preferred not to make agreements of that delicate nature with non-Loqoalans.

Avi smiled (it didn’t reach his eyes), handing the globe back to Nikolai.  “Then you’ve heard wrong, and you should reprimand your sources for bringing you faulty news.  Loqoala doesn’t suffer and still maintains her superiority on the sea.  I know that mightn’t sound realistic to an elf, nor to a businessman in your trade.  But I can only offer you the truth.  If anything, the Empire seeks certain specific raw materials for crafting, rather than completed weapons.  Elven-make is fine craftsmanship and I know your particular renown is unsurpassed.  An Elysian or Midlander would likely jump at this chance, I’m sure.  But we pride ourselves in our self-sufficiency.”  And being dependent on a black market inventor and trader to supply their weaponry - of all things, their weaponry - would be an absolutely foolhardy decision.

With a deliberate artfulness, Avi asked, “You wouldn’t be inclined to let me in on your resource connections, would you?”

He still held the spear though. It fit comfortably in his hand, in a way that Avi seemed to have almost forgotten he was holding it.  

“Come now, Master Petrov.  Why did you really ask for this meeting?  You could’ve chosen to meet with anyone else from Jaqar or Illasqa or even Juaqoan itself, to avoid seeing the face of a Kumara after all these years.  Tell me what you really want out of this.”

-

"A craftsman’s work is often a great, unfinished symphony.” Nikolai paralleled instinctively. The creation of weaponry was not just the work of a blacksmith. Anything can be created once, then set aside. It was only in learning, and relearning, that true genius was born. “If we forget our past, we are destined to repeat it.” A likeness that applied to the situation before them. An irate smile graces his lips, the parallel to piracy an insult to the Petrov’s. And, in turn, to Vailpas. “Oh child, there is no need to explain piracy. Least of all to me.” The inevitability of his own ego and pride, coming to the forefront. Nikolai prided himself in a stiff upper lip. But the Kumara’s would forever be the exception.

“I have seen these improvements up close. I must admit, it is likely to your people’s use and pride. But if I may,” he places a hand on his chest, the condescension palpable. The Lord Kumara had no qualms speaking lowly to him, after all. “I hail from a land of truly deplorable elves. I know of thievery and underhanded deals.” With a leveled eye, he adds; “But when we take, we make it known. We do not dress it up in bells and whistles, and write it off as our own. We look you in the eye, and stab you in the front.” It was a flagrant ruthlessness, embodied by their governing family and their people.

But he steps backwards, a faint and easy smile replacing his fierce features. The promise of a favor was a flimsy one at that. Something Avitej ought to know. Whether or not it mattered to him, was an entirely different matter. With a calm shake of his head, he mutters; “A child should not pay for their parents’ sins.” His words laced with meaning, a call back to his daughter’s death at the expense of his wife’s survival.

At the abrupt shift in their discussion, Nikolai frown at the implication. Rajayer’s might over the sea was certain. But to deem his masterful creations as commodities only fueled greater aggravation. He keeps relaxed, leaning against the crate. Perhaps Phelix was wrong -- he was not a tempestuous boy as he believed. Then again, the Lord assessed only part of an intricate game.

“Simple, really. A pretty bird told me of your latest appointment. The entire Loqoalan fleet, at your command. Quite the accomplishment.” Nikolai utters informatively, rolling the ball in his fingertips. “Believe me, had it been anyone else, that’s whom I would be meeting with. I am a business man, before I am anything else.” An outlandish lie, but he did not need to know that. “I see an opportunity, I take it. And though my resources are my own private matter, I can offer you something that your Rajayen engineers cannot. Simply because it is inconceivable to you and your likes.”

He moves towards the second, larger crate. He pauses, ensuring his words landed, before speaking again. “Cobra Bay is swimming with dragons. Many of whom you and your ancestors regarded as splendid beings. But what is to protect your people, if the rebellion captures and commands a dragon?”

-

Yavanna grinned at his words. “I often sing your praises when the opportunity presents to the council. Working in those compliments is more so the real challenge.” Yavanna did often talk up Nik’s work, especially when she was particularly pleased and astonished by his work. “My father made sure that your importance and our mutually beneficial partnership was well known to me. Success  begets success.” It was circle that worked. She felt safer and her people safer when her guards had incredible weaponry such as this.

When it rested in her palms, she smiled, taking a step back as she wielded at a safe distance from him it as If she were defending against an attacker. Yavanna grinned in sheer joy. “Oh yes I most certainly want this.” She moved closer, placing it back on the table before them. A wicked grin on her face as he mentioned their shared hatred. “Well definitely pour up a drink for me,” she encouraged. His question gave her pause for only a second. “I wouldn’t say I’m sentimental at all. There’s history of shared beds, partnership and also betrayal. But alas, I’m not sentimental with my own family, any other would not phase me. Why do you ask?” That was how Yavanna was raised, lacking in attachment and nostalgia for connections. She could take them or learn to live without them very easily.

-

"I can only imagine. The council is filled with posturing, endless elves who have taken their extended lifespan as an excuse to drone on, and on.” Nikolai remarked critically. It was a tragic faith of even the most remarkable of elves; an oncoming, existential dread that left them posturing and fruitless. Almost detached from the thrill of life. He lowers his head, memory of the late governor a fond one. His best qualities descended to his daughter, it appeared. “He was a remarkable man. A little stoic for my taste, but heavy is the head.” At the time, Nikolai took great pride in relentlessly challenging the governor. He was younger then, with more to prove.

“I’ll have it sent once I finalized the finish on the steel.” He confirms, a charmed smile in tow. Yavanna’s moods were best after a treat, of sorts. The Vailpas greed was embedded in its governing class, after all. The arms dealer raises his hand, allowing both glasses and a carafe to levitate towards them. The use of his telekinesis was second nature now. He gingerly pours two glasses, extending one to the governess. “To Vailpas’ prosperity,” he toasts, allowing the bitterness of the beverage to tickle his tongue. He conceals his judgement for Yavanna’s lack of fealty to her own. It was the Sahrathel way. And though it was not his, he could only admire her relentlessness. It was one area where the Petrov was beat. “The less you know, the better. But,” he concedes. “I guarantee it will not come to harm your rule, or your people. Still, there is an agenda underway. That’s all you need know.”

~

“As if I would ever think to disgrace your home with Elysian wine, Pakhan Nikolai.” Erinwel smiled, taking no real offense to the tone. It was a familiar good natured jabbing that Erin had come to expect from Nik. During the early years of his more illicit enterprises, the older elf had played a key role in helping him gain his footing. Acting as a mentor and a guide, not to mention an excellent first connection in Vailpas, the arms dealer had garnered a great deal of respect and admiration from the young vasharr. He had quickly accepted the invitation for dinner upon his return and was further excited by the prospect of a possible job. Nikolai’s runs were always lucrative in the past. 

“Business has been profitable, yes. Now more than ever.” He laughed lightly despite the small part of him that felt awful for speaking so. In the wake of the attack, services like the ones he provided were readily sought after and he had noticed quite an uptick in demand. “Though, I am sure I don’t need to tell you that. How have things been?” No doubt the talented fabricator was being kept busy as well.

-

“Instead, you disrespect me by looking even younger than you did when we met.” To gauge an elf’s youthfulness, was to take stock of their energy and mirth. Elder elves had nary a wrinkle, but their dispositions gave them away. The vasharr across the table, to Nikolai’s childish irritation, did not have such trouble. Quite the contrary, Erinwel was as spirited as ever. Nikolai takes stock of him fondly, recalling the elf’s foyer into the ‘underworld’ of Vailen. A black market where the craftiest thrived. It appeared that Erin drank from the fountain of self-servitude, and emerged as a formidable business man himself.

“Seems to work out that way,” Nikolai and his enterprise thrived in uncertainty. Each uprising, rebellion, or historic war only grew their business in ten-fold. “But,” he mutters. “As is the way of economics, is it not? The realm demands, and we supply.” A far too simplistic take on the moral question. But he and the man before him were never ones for debate. Nikolai liked to believe they shared in the same self-serving nature. “I have done well with the changing tides. It has made me rethink the structure of the business to meet the growing demands.” And, more accurately, the growing rebellion’s needs. “Frankly, there is an exchange I cannot seem to put in trusted hands.” With a passing glance at Erin, he shrugs; “At least, not in the way I trust you.”

There were others before her, and others long after. But none exhibited such iridescence. The young elf searched and searched for such a woman. Each one, falling short. Yet it was only when he turned his back, that such a woman found him. Granted, it was not in romantic pursuit. Instead, it was in pursuit of his life (a testament to Nikolai’s growing success -- others began to take notice). Enclosed in his work area, the two spoke back and forth as Nikolai bargained for his life (and, more aptly, her continuous engagement). Her dagger is ready in her hand, yet he braves the space between them. A hand pressed against the wall, as he pushes the petite blond against the wall. With a heavy breath as  he pulls away, he mutters; “Kiss me or kill me, which is it gonna be?”

"Red? Like the hue of your victim’s blood?” Nikolai repeats, the absurdity of Phelix’s question rendering Nikolai shocked. “You appall me,” with a shake of his head, he takes the vial of paint from Phelix’s hands. “This is clearly burgundy.” The exasperated elf proceeds to hand him the proper vial. “There. Blood red. Much better.”

…

“Nik, yeah, yeah, of course Nik.” His heart leapt to his throat. First name basis–granted under duress, but still. Oggy tried to swallow again, but with the dry mouth he was quickly running out of spit to do so. “You can call me Oggy, cause that’s my name. Shortened version, but the better one too…” 

Oggy dusted himself off. Looking around for a clue that it might be safe to stand up off the ground, and finding nothing but stoney faces. He remained where he was for the time.

“Only just meant I love your work, from your reputation. You’re famous, yeah? Nothing weird about it. Not like I’m some crazy stalker in love with you, love.” He had been wincing at the earlier taunting, only to go on and surely make it worse. The tips of his battered ears turned red as his teeth grit together. His eyes widened again seeing another Nikolai Petrov original, again. Cause he did recognize it from the first time. There was a very similar crossbow in the cart he’d meant to haggle off the rebels where one was sitting on the very top. “Yeah, love it, gods she’s a beauty, been wanting one since… since…”  He’d loved it then from the moment he laid eyes on it, meaning to take it for himself before moving the rest of the items. That was before Cai iced everything and it all went to shit.

Continued to go to shit. His stomach dropped as he slowly caught on. “Aw shit.”

-

“Oggy,” he repeats, the name meaning little to him. He did not separate one thief from the other. They were all cut from the same cloth. Quick to turn and adapt, as the situation required. Despite the nature of his business, Nikolai never fancied himself a thief. Immoral, perhaps. But everything he sold, he made with his own hands. “I did not realize I accumulated such a following.” A flagrant lie, especially in Vailpas. The seedy elves looked to Nikolai as a God, almost. His ability to achieve, what few could have in such a short period of time. “Famous? Me? What am I? A craftsman?” He downplayed, humored by the adoration of the elf before him. This should be easy, then. “See, I do not think of myself as famous or a wealthy man. I am a poor man, with money. No need to sweat, we are just two elves having a conversation.”

Of course, the men surrounding Oggy’s kneeling figure said the contrary. But Nikolai often imparted civility in these situations. He would leave the rest to his men, should it be required. He nods slowly, catching the recognition in Oggy’s eyes. “Ah, so you recognize it, I take it.” He decides, intentionally pointing it in his direction. “We sold a number of these to Elysi’s armory a year ago. Good timing, given the recent events. But, see,” he hums. “It seems they ended up broken, in rebellion grounds no less.”  He extends his hand, pointed eyes towards Oggy. “Care to fill in the blanks? From one hustler to another?”

…

It was interesting, seeing Nikolai Petrov up close.  Avi was as curious about the man as he was about the offers.  It seemed like Erin’s assurances were correct, that Petrov was all about business - and that allowed Avi to relax (just slightly), arms folded as he studied the other man.

The Kumara history books detailed about the Petrov family, and the disgrace they’d created on Rajayer soil.  His daughter Natalia, spy and murderer - likely an assassin, like her mother Samara Petrov.  There were other children, but Natalia was the firstborn, killed for her crime.  The history books said Rajayer was protecting and defending the realm.  The complicated inconvenience of a death made by unintentional intentions, so to speak.  Nikolai Petrov wanted the body of his child returned, the Archduchess Dipkha Kumara had refused.  

Which Avi could understand.  Natalia Petrov’s attempts had come right on the sunset of the Halani coup attempt to the Rajayer throne.  Whether ill-timing or an attempt to strike while Rajayer was still reeling, Natalia’s strategy did not pay off.  

What the books never really specified, was what Natalia Petrov’s intent in Rajayer was.

And here now was Nikolai, her father…not technically returned to Rajayer but speaking to a Kumara after 400 years.  The Petrovs patriarch had made his extremely lucrative business notorious enough over the centuries, and although his wares were proliferated more with the mainlands and north Loqoala, of course Avitej also knew about Nikolai Petrov.  But Avi recalled his grand-parents disinterest in what the Petrov’s had to offer, his parents as well.  And Tazar, planned to follow in Aman’s footsteps.  

There was reasoning behind it.  Rajayer was a technically competent and well-outfitted nation, despite what others thought of it.  Their boast wasn’t in vain, it was fact.  And over centuries of balancing piracy with integrity, House Kumara prioritized the needs of Rajayer effectively, which was how they’d held their title since the First Rebellion.  They were a strong family raised by the harshness of the sea, self-sufficient and adaptable like the ocean. And fiercely loyal to the Empire.

Avitej had heard all the praise from his own irreputable and reputable sources: that Nikolai Petrov was the best, his mind was brilliant, his creations were unsurpassed, and all the rest of the accolades that befitted the glory of the self-made elf in songs and bard’s tales.  Nikolai Petrov was immeasurably rich and confidently powerful and had everything, except his daughter.  He was a creation of Vailen, rising to an ignoble power through hard work and diligence, even if it wasn’t technically law-abiding.  But that didn’t prickle Avitej as it might someone more stringent with law.

Avi didn’t find the need to admire Nikolai Petrov, but Avi wasn’t as stupid as people liked to believe.  He respected that Petrov was an old but sidelined enemy not of Rajayer, but of the Kumaras.  Over the generations that original fraught anger at the Petrov patriarch faded - at least on the Kumara side.

But Avi was close enough to the man now, to study him, and decide purely on gut instinct that for Nikolai Petrov, four hundred years ago still felt like yesterday.  The pain of losing a child, as Avi understood it, had no recovery.  Yet here Petrov was, trying to sell now to the family who killed his child.

He made contact not with an Archduke, but only an Heir Apparent.  An unlikely and unwanted Heir Apparent, no less.  Avi understood his own worth - or lack thereof in the estimation of the rest of the world.

An interesting and tumultuous time in House Kumara’s lineage, for Petrov to suddenly want to build a business rapport.

nikpetrovkc​:

sacrilegiousxsamara​:

-

Yava had always known, or rather had no choice but to know and appreciate Nik’s importance. Her father had always stressed the importance of their allegiance be long held even after he passed away. She respected the notion and she also respected Nik. She also fluently spoke the unspoken power maneuvers that were being displayed in his delayed response to her request for a meeting and the location of said meeting. 

Yava was a busy women. Crime empires didn’t run themselves, and with the amount of criminal activity below the surface, being away for long could give any lower level imbecile time to think that they could shift some of the power in the city. Some of those imbeciles were members of her own family. 

Standing at his side, her arms crossed as she admired his work. She would give him his due recognition. “It is quite stunning. Then again, since I’m in a complimentary mood most of the weaponry you create is often stunning. You wouldn’t be Nikolai Petrov if you produced anything less than astonishing.” She could do flattery when it suited her. And in this case since she was here on what he thought were his terms, she would flatter him. 

“May I?” she asked reaching out to run her fingers over the leather sling. Truth be told she would love to wield the spear, and could even see herself doing so. “I may want it for myself. I’d want it even more if it were meant for Rajayer.” Of course she wouldn’t pass up taking this thing of beauty out from under them. Feuds were feuds even in the pettiest of circumstances. “Is this what kept you from the common decency of prompt response to my request for a meeting?” 

-

Honor among thieves was, in Nikolai’s experience, a phrase meant to bring comfort to outsiders. But those within the Vailpas knew it was a myth. Honor was based entirely on which situation benefited a thief most. In this case, his support and fealty towards Yavanna was the most beneficial for Nikolai and his business. He’s made the acquaintance of the Sahrathel’s before. In his assessment, she was the fittest to lead. She had a cold and calculated demeanor about her, while still managing to feign warmth and fealty when it suited her. Where the devils were concerned, she was the lesser threat.

But it did not mean that Nikolai would cow tow to the governess. Theirs was a partnership, or so he felt inclined to remind her. “Your complimentary moods are always welcome here. Feel free to boast my creation’s superiority in the next council meeting.” He kids lightly. “But my success is all due to Vailpas’ tolerance and generosity.” He concedes, intentional in his words. Yava was never one to allow compliments to jade her. But, coming from him, it was a way to sooth the turbulent waters.

“Please,” he agrees, lifting the spear with a flick of his wrist, until rests gently in her palms. “Perfectly balanced, rust proof, and the blade is laced with a minimal spark of energy. Subtle and silent, perfect for close contact combat or mid-range targets.” Nikolai informs her, pride in his tone. He merely bows his head in admiration. “I love it when we share in our hatred of the fuckin’ Rajayens. Though we will need a stronger drink to do it.” He shrugs, his smile prevalent. “Something like that. But we are here now, and I would like to begin with a frank discussion.” Licking his lips, he gestures towards the spears. “How sentimental are you towards the Kumaras?”

-

When he brought attention to the dress she was wearing, Nora smirked. Challenge alight in her eyes, a quip rested on her tongue ready for the moment. “For you?” She asked, her eyes rolling at the thought. “You think very highly of yourself, no? Perhaps I have plans after this little visit, that involve me, this dress, and unwavering eyes on me and hopes that hands will want to rip away at all that binds me in this dress.”  Was she lying, partially.  She did hope for that ending, but she didn’t have a set plan after their meeting.

Nora nodded as he mentioned her father. “Yes, he was. He was something. Thank you.” She had to agree there her dad was something else. Though to be fair the more she found out about him the more ferocity he seemed to have in the decisions he made for his family and for Red Keep. “Augustus is healing and recuperating ” she said simply, not wanting to spread the rumor that her brother was worse for wear. Nora had to chuckle at his words. “Or perhaps it was me that want wanted you all to myself.” Her eyes roamed over him purposely and unabashedly for a moment. “My brother and father were great but I like to get down and dirty with negotiations.”

-

“You need not go far to find that, I can assure you.” She was a most fascinating sight. All the beauty of noble blood, without the pesky stick up her rear. Nikolai was a man for whom, unique experience was a thrill he often sought. It was rooted in his innate curiosity, and his insatiable greed. “It would be a shame to ruin your frills.” Nikolai chides, slowly approaching the Amaranthe advisor. His hands find themselves against her hips, his pert fingers toying with the tassels and beads. “But I can endeavor to be gentle.” Licking his lips, he removes his hands, stepping backwards to assess her words.

So the rumors were true. The Red Keep’s leadership hung in the balance. It was the folly of nobility; the ever-revolving door of leaders. But Nikolai long determined that earning Nora’s favor was key. Whoever held the mantle, she was steadfast in her place. “Must be the Loqoalan in you. Less of the Elysian prissiness.” Nikolai chides, chuckling at the heavy words laced in her tone. “Down and dirty it is.” He agrees. “To answer your query, raising my price is a necessity. The Red Keep is not the only realm attempting to build or improve their armory.” Of course, his margins were not entirely out of necessity. This was the way of war. “I am an honest man, Nora. When the day comes that my weaponry is no longer necessary, I shall shift my expertise to something more demure. Dress making, perhaps.”

…

Avi watched, fascinated as the small rowboat needed absolutely no rowing to transport the elf to the shore of the island.  Magic of course, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t interesting to watch.  The convenience of magic was never lost on Avi.  He’d longed to be that special when he was young, but his year at the Magaresterium in Illasqa had only brought him frustration.  He’d abandoned hope of being magical a long time ago; but his wonder at the use of magic never faded.

The crates bobbed from the ship to shore as well, and Avi stood up, trotting down to the shore to greet Nikolai.  So it really did look like the other elf meant business.  

But Avi still didn’t forget that Nikolai could use telekinesis bob and fling bodies as easily as he could land those crates.  One flick of the elf’s hand, and Avi could be flung into the water and drowned.

Instead, he was divested only of his rum bottle.  A subtle statement, but a statement nonetheless.  

“What, no formalities?” Avi called out, wind whipping his voice.  He lifted the collar of his coat as he came closer, looking curiously at the crates.  Perhaps the elf was just looking to unload unwanted goods onto Rajayer, hence the alacrity.  “I was assured this would be worth my while, Master Petrov.”

Avi had questions, but he reserved them for later.  “Alright mate.  Let’s see what you’ve got.”

-

“I’m told you were never one for false formality, anyways.” He ensured proper knowledge of the latest Kumara lord, prior to their meeting. Avitej Kumara, the second born son of the Archduke. A skilled naval commander and sailor, for whom nobility was an easy ticket to life and luxury. The loss of his older brother cemented his place as heir apparent, a feat that concerned many in his court. In totality, a privileged man unprepared for his post. He grins, assessing his personage. He was shorter than Nikolai imagined, with a lean figure and dark pools for eyes. So reminiscent of his ancestors before him, who snickered when Nikolai demanded retribution.

“Alright,” Nikolai agrees, opting to allow his creations to speak for themselves. He approaches the first crate, placing his hands underneath the lid and utilizing his strength to put it on the sand. In it, he retrieves his newly molded spear. The long and perfectly balanced spear, with a fine sling (this time, woven out of silk versus leather -- in case Rajayen religion condemned the use of leather). “Perfectly balanced, rust proof, and the blade is enchanted with a minimal spark of energy. Subtle and silent, perfect for close contact combat or mid-range targets.” He hands it to the Lord, allowing him to feel it in his palms as he retrieves the next item in his crate. “A far superior alternative to what the Empire is supplying.”

He extends a small ball, occupying the space in his palm. “Light to the touch. We altered the metal to ensure it is not weighted. A couple of these will emit a painful smoke, when activate. A pyrokinetic in my ranks developed it.”

-

He was not a violent or aggressive man by nature. Nikolai’s reputation lent itself to that image, but it was merely an abstraction. In reality, the elf was a shrewd businessman. He would sooner favor a delicate conversation than a pronouncement of brute strength. By many accounts, Samara was the one who exhibited great violence for the Petrov’s. But one would not know it from looking at her. No, just the mere sight of her left little to be feared. In the silence of their home, the Harbinger of Death appeared as a mother who had lost her child. Her delicate features were not hardened, but heavy in grief. The blond appeared like a broken shell of the strong woman he loved.

Loved. It was disturbing to Nikolai, how quickly his love for her turned sour. Anyone who knew Nikolai Petrov, knew he would live and die for the love he bore his wife. He held her up in the world. The only woman who could surpass his unbelievably high standards for a partner. A true marvel, a gift from Noctyx to the undeserving mage. But when he saw her arrive to the Petrov tresshold, something shifted. Instantaneously, the fiery love he felt for her turned into rage. Try as he may to find his love for her (and despite Samara’s illusions, he did try), it was futile. He could not summon kindness, just as Samara could not bring Natalia back.

“I do not want this fucking room. I want her.” Nikolai correctly shrewdly, knowing fully well it was an obvious statement. But he could not help it. The grief in him deluded him of politeness or reason. All he could see was his young daughter’s body, deposited into his arms. “Is her blood not enough for you to remember her by?” It was intentionally cruel, even disrespectful to his wife. And though Nikolai had few moral qualms, he never once disrespected the mistress of the household. “Fine,” he relents, tossing the necklace from his hands and towards her feet. “Take it.”

I tried. The words set the elf into a long, vicious cackle. His entire body almost exploded at the laughter that escaped him. His shoulders shook, as the cruel laugh occupies Natalia’s room. “You tried?” He repeats, delusional mirth now dancing in his eyes. He can barely feel the hot, frustrated tears streaming from his eyes. “You are the realms most formidable assassin. Your work has taken down lords, parliamentary representatives, and some of the most heavily guarded masters the realm has ever seen. You are unparalleled in skill and strength.” It was hard to deny his wife’s accomplishments, which only made the situation difficult to accept. “And you could not keep one girl, our girl, alive?”

He meets her challenging eyes with his own, his throat dry at Samara’s words. Her blue eyes reflected his, a silent reminder of what they both lost. “No,” he mutters. “I will not lay a hand on you. But that is not a testament to my forgiveness. But our children.” He steps backwards, putting space between himself and his wife. “I have no need for you anymore. But Contessina and Dimitri have lost enough. I will not take their mother, too.” With a scoff of finality, he shakes his head. “Whatever else, they need you. So I will do nothing, but leave you to be their mother.”

@nikpetrovkc​

The island had no name.  

If you didn’t know it, then it didn’t exist; and if you did know it, then no name was necessary.  It was a small island in the southern seas, east of the last Rajayan island and southwest of Meriwen.  

Erin - who of course knew of this island - had made the arrangements.  Reluctant as Avitej was to take the meeting, he was convinced by Erin’s word.  The vasharr was someone Avi trusted, bolstered by Catlina’s trust of her dearest friend.  He said that Nikolai Petrov had good intent, and assured Avitej that it was no trap.  It was merely a business deal.

Why Nikolai Petrov could possibly desire business with Rajayer - no, with a Kumara, was beyond Avi.  But he was curious, and against better judgement he agreed to the meeting.

Avi arrived at the islanda good hour or so before the appointed time.  His ship anchored far away enough, with Avi’s instructions to pull anchor and leave if there was any inkling of a mysterious storm headed its way.  Avi rowed himself to the island alone, pulling the boat to shore and taking a canvas of its rocky terrain.  The ocean roared around him, but Avi was used to the noise; it comforted him. He wanted to make sure he and Nikolai would be truly alone, when the elf arrived.

At the top of the island,  Avi perched and drank some rum, his telescope eventually spotting the other elven ship in the distance.  Avi watched, and waited.

-

There was little love between the Vailpas elf and the Loqoalan seas. But the sharp waters and unfamiliar lands was a price worth paying, where the Kumara’s were concerned. His vessel, aptly named Natalia, coursed through the waters in pursuit of the anonymous island. True to his word, Phelix’s methodical madness arranged a most controversial meeting. The first Kumara-Petrov interaction in four hundred years. Of course, the last interaction ended with Nikolai and his men escorted aboard their vessel, after they threatened to lay waste to the Rajayen estate.

But this was not a meeting of violence, or hatred. By most accounts, this was a business man looking to profit off of Avitej’s new position as naval commander of the Empire. Once his ship approaches, he follows in suits, casting a small boat. It is quick, with his hand extended to leverage his telekinesis. The small boat moves quickly, until he is ashore. Once landed against the warm sand, he looks up, the sight of the Lord Kumara seated at the top. A subtle reminder of his Lordship, Nikolai determined.

He glances at his ship, raising his hand and summoning the readily packed crates. With over two thousand years, his endurance where movement was concerned has grown significantly. The days spent sailing to the island provided rest, allowing him to commit such a feat. The crates float from the ship, onto the island. Finally, he returns to meet Avitej’s eyes.

“My lord!” Nikolai bellows, a twisted smirk as he raises his hand, flicking the bottle of rum from his hands until it comes into his grasp. “Shall we begin?”

…

Revenge. Phelix wondered at it, the way it tore Nikolai’s family apart.  Particularly when ‘family’ was something he held so dear; why else would he want revenge on the mother of his children, if he didn’t consider family so precious?  Phelix didn’t envy that sort of fealty - he had no desire for progeny, and look what tragedy it brought Nikolai in the end - but he did find it curious.  

In the way that, if he could cut Nikolai open and pull out his insides and discover what family, love, revenge meant to him,  Phelix would.  

“If I ever find a way to help you with this endeavour, I will let you know,” Phelix said.  And it was an offer that didn’t come from The Cause, but rather from Phelix himself.  One of the most generous offers he’d ever personally made.

Nikolai’s disdain for Rajayer was strong and specific, while Phelix disliked the entire Empire as a whole.  Mostly because over the past 1000 years, it had been difficult to gain much traction there.  Loqoalans were overall disinterested with the wisdom he had to offer, their own ways more similar to wildling independence than anything, in his opinion, cohesive.  How they nearly captured the Midlands had baffled Phelix.  Fortunately, north Eldur became what it was, which advantaged Phelix in the end.  

He gave Nikolai a dry, unimpressed look.  “I’m sure I can arrange for that, if a hundred thousand copper coins is truly what you want.  Sometimes my…benefactors can be quite literal.”  It was Phelix’ turn to chuckle, at the idea of Nikolai being drowned in cheaply-made copper coins.  What an amusing sight it would be.

He only realized after that Nikolai truly did want copper.  Perhaps it was easier to disseminate, if more tedious to store.  But then, Nikolai did have houses all over the place.  Who was to say any one house wasn’t filled to the brim with coins.  

“Hmph.  Yes, sell him whatever you’d like to fleece him with, but I have one special request to throw into your inventory, that may contribute to his downfall.  I’ve heard…rumour that after the upcoming event, Rajayer could be faced with a rather large problem.  A flying terror, over their islands that may have to be dealt with.  I know you make things such as dragon nets, with varying degrees of submission for the mighty people.  If you can convince him to take on some such dragon-suppression device - only this one, through some accidental malfunction, will cause irreparable damage rather than just submission - I will ensure the rest comes to pass.”  

Phelix looked over at Nikolai.  “His parents doted on dragons, encouraging them in Rajayer for his entire life.  He grew up surrounded by dragons, and they trust him. His love of their kind will be his undoing.”

-

“And what will it cost me?” Nikolai inquires, almost instinctively. His was a life of constant exchange. Nothing as precious as Phelix’s assistance would be free of charge. Even so, he suspects that the price would not be in the form of weaponry. Rather, a cool maintenance of the beneficial relationship that existed between them. Its certainly benefited the Cause. And, despite their words, was something Nikolai suspected he enjoyed. Well, as enjoyable as anything could be for the ambivalent elf.

“Thanks, bud.” He mutters, placing a brief hand on the slender elf’s should. A silent acknowledgement of respect, and the clear intent in his tone. Nikolai was often disloyal to causes, from the elder council to the royal houses. But the arms dealer felt a shred of loyalty (or perhaps emotional connectivity) to people. Another factor that contributed to his lack of existential crisis, he supposed.

“What can I say, any business needs a supply of currency to remain afloat.” Barter agreements were commonplace in his trade. However, the myriad of workers under his employment required steady compensation in the form of coin. His deals with Loqoala were often in the trade of resources, favors, and secrets (as was their way). But the Cause had little sovereignty, offering the opportunity to receive coin in exchange.

His arms are crossed over his chest, but the suggestion prompts a loud cackle. Nikolai instinctively rubs the bottom of his chin, shaking his head. The Cause never did seize to find new and explosive ways to create a statement. Their acquisition of dragonkin was known throughout the realm. But such a feat would undoubtedly cause terror to the Kumara’s. At that, he beams.

“I never did understand the fealty to such beasts.” His fondness of dragonkin was limited to their displays of strength. The ultimate terror which Nikolai endeavored to subdue with his creations. “But that is easily within my power. I sold a similar device to the Empire itself. I will simply sell it in the same regard. As a resource the Empire has found value in.” Nikolai shrugs. “They say he is a man forged from the military? I shall gift him a spear unlike any other. Appeal to the idiot’s violent ego.” Not that he knew for certain, but violent ego was commonplace for the Kumara’s. “I shall begin my journey next week.”

"Blood spill is low on my priorities where design is concerned. But how about a brand new, innovative tool that can clean it up. I call it the Sweefer.”