I look up to see a dark cloud descending before me.  That would be him, in his billowing robes and layers upon layers of fabric and silk ties and sashes.  He settles into a self-assured posture as the hems of his robes cease fluttering against the floor.  He's leaning back in his chair, legs crossed, hand cocked at the wrist, rings flashing from just under his chin, regarding me in this stance.  As if he owned this place.

I posit in the back of my mind that it's just ever-so-possible that he might think he owns me as well.  I discard the notion as something not worth my time to ponder.  It would only make me angry, and besides that - I already know that it's true, at least by Xaillyndesse reckoning.  This place, though - this Poet Hall that we're having such a relaxed teatime in - this place is mine.

That relaxed pose of his, though- I do wish I had the ability to adopt it right now.  The closest I can get is to keep my shoulders back, stop myself from hunching forward on the defensive, and lace my fingers together in front of me.  I am glad there is a low table between us.  I wish it were three or five kingdoms instead, or perhaps just a sizable piece of continent - as is the norm.  At least, at the very, very least...we have tea.

He gives me a nod.  "'Lete.  It has been some time."  His voice dips slightly into a low tone, condescending just an inch for me, informing me that it's my fault I never write, I being the Poet King and not even bothering with letters.  That is what one of his last missives said, after all.  It's to the point where I'd have a Poet read them and send form replies for me if I weren't concerned with the confidentiality breaches I'd face then.

He knows entirely too much and hides more of it than I can dare to speculate.  Why am I even allowing him to sit in close proximity to me, or in my Hall at all?  But diplomatic talks are finally concluding, and 'Sy said it would be a good idea to 'if not bury the hatchet, rest it on a low shelf somewhere and pretend that you both think it's decorative.'

"My name is Elete, dear brother."  It's out of my mouth before I can even set timing to the score, but it's perfectly paced as it is.  There is an advantage to being who I am, right now.  I'm not just Elete, and definitely not 'Lete, my brother's old pet-name for me. I'm the Poet King and that means words are at my very beck and call.  If I were someone else...I might never know what to reply to him.  "It has been some time indeed.  Ten years.  You appear to have changed little.  I assume appearances do not lie, and that the years have been kind to you?"  I crook one eyebrow, and watch his expression.  It doesn't shift, except for the barest flicker in his strange multi-colored eyes.  I faintly remember them being green, but my family refused to talk about that change... among many others.

"I suppose you've heard how kind indeed the years have been to our Kingdom, and our Empire."  He allows his chin to lift a little at that, letting slip some haughtiness to grace my eyes.  "I miss you at home.  You really should accept an invitation, dear Elete.  I've so many now that you've declined.  Does my new Palace in Aurocale not suit you?  Should I have a new wing built?  I realize the Jhe o'Radia treats you well, and can't imagine you lack for much in his Empire...but is it really that grand, compared to what I can offer you?  You can spare a week, yes?  A week is more than enough for a good stay, even with travel."  He tosses his hand back beside his head, wrist flicking up in that dismissive gesture that's such a trademark of his.  "He manages it regularly."  His eyes narrow and flick to the side, deflecting a glare that isn't meant for me.  "Even without going through the most proper channels of invitation."

I only nod to him politely.  "I'll consider it.  Thank you.  Please do not feel burdened to construct any edifices on my behalf."  It crosses my mind that I've enough architects working on harebrained projects within the Hall right now.  I should probably check up on that.

He finds some way to pout dramatically in a diplomatic fashion, and leaves his protests at that.  "Well, then.  How have you been?"  Another handgesture, another flash of his rings.  I'll have to keep an eye on those.  He could have snuck something in, even with the security I've put in place here.  Poison rings?  No, not for me at least.  Maybe some drugs, though.  I wouldn't put it past him.  I certainly know not to speak in confidence with him here.  I might need the whole place swept afterwards.  ...I think I'll do that, yes.

I lean forward and pour out his tea, then my own.  "Honey?  Sugar?  Lemon?"  He requests just a bit of lemon, then picks up the saucer, sniffing the steam that wafts up.  I put honey in my own, and then give the tea its proper attention, avoiding the question for just a few more moments.

"I've been very well, thank you for asking."  Was I just a bit too terse?  I wonder, in the back of my mind, if it really matters.  Of course it matters.  It's proper etiquette.  And it is also a tiny, tiny game, played with hundreds of tiny, tiny pieces, and we've each been keeping the score of it in the backs of our heads ever since I defected to Crux Radia from right under his well-bred nose.

He's never forgiven me for that, and I know it.

He nods, sipping tea to mask any consternation.  I see his eyebrow twitch just a little.  "Excellent to hear.  You're so brief in your responses to my letters, after all.  I might worry after you, if I didn't have so much faith in you as a capable person."  He lays down his saucer on the table, looking me square in the eyes.  The fading colors from left to right disarm me, just as they always do.  I don't remember them looking like that when we were children... but childhood always has to end someday.  I just don't think mine lived its term before it was killed.  "Elete.  My brother.  Are you quite alright here?  It is a great burden to bear.  So much work.  I tell those in my circle that I'm proud of my younger brother, King of the Poets, of all things.  But...working so closely with the Armed...often I wonder at your methods."  He sees me cock my eyebrow in preparation for a response as he speaks.  "Oh, not that I mean to presume.  It's just that... well.  They're a dangerous lot, sometimes.  I worry."

I sit back, sip my tea, and force my shoulders to lower.  "Dangerous lot?  You mean the Armed, or my Poets?"  I keep the possessive on purpose.  I want to prepare the ground I know he has the gall to tread on.

His eyebrows jump up in response, his head cocking just a bit to the side.  He strikes me as a bird for not the first time since things soured between the two of us.  A stupid, mocking, chattery bird.  "Why, Elete.  I hadn't bothered to think about that.  But, now that you mention..."  He looks into the distance, pondering, then laughs airily.  "Oh, but you must be joking.  Except that you never joke, brother.  You need to lighten up!  But really..."  He leans forward, arm draped over the armrest, supporting his weight as his shoulder juts upward.  "Are you joking?  If Poets present a danger...well, it's to themselves, dear brother.  Or to you, and some of their associates.  Do you find yourself recruiting quite often for new ones?  Your current 'army', as it were...well, I suppose they are their own means of population control?  This is only from what I hear, of course.  But really..."  He leans back, waving his hand forward, then craning it up under his chin.  "A talk with your neighbor the Judge would be prudent, I think.  After all, while his seem to expire with an alarming regularity...at least he's trained them into generating the largest possible amount of collateral damage when it occurs."

I school my expression to react as one that was cast in porcelain.  Oh... my.  Some part of my head is reeling from the fact that he even said all of that to me.  Maybe the shock is keeping me calm.  Part of me has gone so far as to pray that I can maintain control of my emotions right now.  That... that was quite the calculated delivery, I must admit.  He must have been thinking of that one for quite a long time.  And really, it's best delivered in person, where I don't have the time to calm down before responding.

Oh my.  I really just want to punch him right now.  Maybe I can paint it later, after he's left, and savor it then without any repercussions.  He might feel it a little, but he'll have had it coming.

"Well, it certainly would seem that way to the untrained, casual observer, with no skills nor talents in these fields to train them into properly noting the hard facts of the case, but in reality, these would be incorrect assumptions, lent to you by those who must often, sadly, leap to conclusions before ever properly researching their theses.  In actuality, it so happens that my Poets have an unusually high survival rate in comparison with the average citizen, since their remarkable abilities, combined with the proper training and expertise on how to use them, give them an edge in almost any situation.  ...'Sy's Armed are his own problem."  I shrug.  "Whatever harm they might seem to cause here is no more than what you'd expect from a visit to a rowdy bar, and there are properly-observed rules already in place regarding their behavior and the sanctity of the Poets' working environment.  The Armed are extremely helpful when it comes to security and helping to improve the Hall the Poets live and work in.  They make for excellent Poets as well...or so you might have heard."  I look over to my brother.  Has any of this reached him?  Any of it at all?

He looks up at the ceiling, shrugging into the air.  "Only suggestions, dear brother.  I really don't know how you survive here, with reckless endangerment constantly surrounding you, but I suppose there's only so much that I can plead with you before giving up on it."  He sighs and crosses his arms.  "Do you really want to stay here, brother?  You could do this work elsewhere...in my Kingdom, for example.  I have better supply lines for your materials, and lots of space for your Poets to operate separate from the Armed.  It's...well it's a bit vexing, to find out that my brother is all but roommates with the Judge, instead of getting his own suite, as it were.  Do you see where I would be concerned, Elete?  It's my duty to make sure that you're being treated fairly and kept safe...my duty as elder brother."

I nod before thinking of my next move.  It's an automatic reply to my brother at this point - there's even a certain tone and mood to it that is just for him.  It's not quite agreement, just acknowledgement that, yes, I did hear him speaking just now, and I understood all the words just fine own my own.  "I will have to devote proper time to the consideration of your rather impressive offer, so I must demurr for now.  I'll send you a missive in due time on the subject."  Or, I could have outright said 'no', but I want to have the time to prepare a response that is appropriately condescending and pompous.  In any case, he looks pleased with my answer.  There's even a touch of giddiness to him, which surprises me.

"How exciting.  I look forward to seeing more of you in our Kingdom again, dear Elete."

Ah.  He's just assumed I'll accept.  Of course - it's an offer from him, so how could I not?

I shake my head, holding up my index finger in a 'please wait' motion.  "Ebrelle?  Radia is my Kingdom now.  It is my home and has been since I set foot in it.  I am no longer of your citizens."

His eyes narrow and his shoulders straighten as he sits up in his chair.  Not quite the pose of command, but oh so close.  "My name is Ebrellin-i, dear brother, and I trust you, of all people, to remember that."  He cocks his head, scrutinizing me in a way I can't describe.  He blinks, and then a slow realization comes over his face.  "...You're serious, aren't you?  This isn't some prolonged display of rebellion.  You're not coming back to me.  To our Kingdom.  You've actually moved into this..." He looks around, trying to scrape up any sort of acceptable word.  Considering where he is, he shouldn't have to look far.  "...place."  He looks at me, eyes still narrowed, trying to figure out what to think about this.

He rises.  It's like watching an exotic garden take to its feet.

"I must be away for the night, dear brother.  I've quarters to settle into while I stay here, and knowing the Jherent o'Radia...Jhe o'Radia."  He smooths over one of his silks as he covers up the faux-pas.  "...Well, let's just say I'd like a long look at them before I relax in this place, yes?"  He nods to me as I rise to see him off. Then he gives, to my surprise, a short bow that I'm still not accustomed to receiving yet.

Acknowledgement from one ruler to another.  Even though his Kingdom dwarfs my Hall considerably...within the laws of etiquette, it is required.  I'm oddly touched that he deigns to remember it.  An Emperor is allowed room to forget such sacred things - it's Ebrellin-i's choice that he remember it.

I return it gracefully, and see him out.