Ashan 38, Arc 719Today was the trial, where Alistair had planned to first enter Tyros in order to survey the island for settlements, defensible positions, agricultural layout and other things necessary to determine for its conquest. Though he wished to acquire the island peacefully both to retain more manpower and hold a healthier bond with the native population, the mage wished to be utterly prepared for all scenarios. It was plausible that the Tirano people would not allow Alistair the same privileges that the Koroskai had, considering they were far less threatened by both the Saltfetchers and foreign bureaucracies. Though the aforementioned threats would likely eventually lead to their dissemination, to them, the more immediate threat was Alistair himself.
He was the enemy upon their doorstep, surely, or he would be the moment he came upon the island, took his first settlement and declared the conquest of Tyros in motion. If not through an overwhelming show of force, how would he acquire their fealty? Compared to the other Helian Isles, their realm prospered.
"My Lord," Aeneas called to him. "The Tirano are a cutthroat people. If you give them the opportunity, they will dig a sarissa through your skull. And they are not driven by logic as we Koroskai are - your words of warning and offers of what growth you might bring will fall utterly deaf on their ears. The people of Tyros respect only the game; mythos, legend, and the trial of sport. The champion of Arsineaus Medea; the champions of their hippodrome. And yet you cannot learn these sports, for during the seasons it shall require in Agaperos for you to master them, the Argonis will surely send an agent of theirs to sever your throat from your skull. A hundred assassins if necessary; eventually, one shall succeed."
The mage heeded his words, nodding in reply to the man, who stood before him in a simple robe with a gladius hilted at his side. "What would you suggest I do, then?" Alistair asked. Though he did not promise to deliver upon Aeneas' expectations, he wondered of the man's political tact. He appeared to be knowledgeable enough; so much so that the mage considered adding the man directly unto his council, though in what position he was uncertain.
"Lord Venora!" a man yelled, opening the door to the chambers of the former mayoral estate. It had become somewhat open to the public at this point, as the mage did not wish to appear too distant from his newly acquired subjects.
The man that entered was clearly in haste. He was young, somewhat scrawny, and panting for breath. "A member of the Argonis is here for you," he said. "He wishes to invite you to speak with him on his boat, and to come with him to Tyros. He has said that he will wait as long as His Lordship requires, but aches to meet such a man as His Lordship, Alistair."
The mage smirked, tapping his fingertip against his chin. "Oh does he, now?" Alistair questioned. "How fortuitous, Aeneas. It looks as if the Gods might have offered us a suggestion of their own. The Argonis lead Tyros, yes?" he asked. All of their conversation had been spoken in Vahanic, though the mage still managed to speak in an aristocratic dialect. His words were methodical... perhaps slow at times, but utterly deliberate. He had quickly attuned to the Koroskai dialect in particular and had crafted his own method of regal speech, speaking formally through their terms.
"Not directly, but... indirectly. It is complicated; Tyros' settlements claim to be free states determined by the wills of the people. Their policy is determined by public votes. It just so happens that the way the teams bend always determines the outcome of said votes, and they are typically consulted as gatekeepers of any policy," he said.
The mage rolled his eyes. It was yet another formal-informal dynamic of hegemonic leadership that pretended not to be. An inefficient alternative to Nobility.
"I see," he replied. "Good enough. I will speak to this man immediately," he said, standing from his chair and looking to the one who had come to the estate so hastily. Alistair recognized his name as Philippos. "What was his name?" he asked.
"Arios," Philippos replied.
"Arios," muttered the mage, nodding to his self-appointed courier and heading towards the direction of the harbor.