Arceus Kallidus Kyros slowly roused himself from sleep within his bedchambers, very dimly lit by small crystal lights to ensure limited visibility in the pitch darkness of the room at night, glossy lights flickering around them on the black Obsidian walls of the room. The Obsidian Tower was Arceus' home, and he had grown to like the dark and warm nature the volcanic glass of the precisely shaped halls lent to the place, even warmer to those of the sorcerous talent who could sense the power which these old and precisely carved halls had observed and drank in over the centuries. 

Imported mahogany, dark or clear glassware, silverware, black leather, and furs were the main sources of other texture in the rooms and halls, along with the deep black and red embroidered curtains and drapes that fit over the windows of the tower, the primary colours of Arceus' House. A pair of which adorned his room, snuffing out the outside light of moon or sun. With a flick of his finger from his bed, Arceus parted the curtains neatly, their ropes snaking around the heavy fabric to find purchase on hooks behind them, letting in a flood of sunlight into the room with the dawn, the rays of light flowing across the room in front of Arceus' bed.

Casually getting up, he walked over to a nearby wardrobe, where he began getting dressed. Most houses in Handon would utilize servants for such work as properly dressing a Lord or Lady, and ensuring they were presentable, but with in House Kyros, they were expected to make themselves presentable, what with their magical talents making such a need for servants redundant for such trivial functions. Within minutes he had his clothes sorted, golden pentacle straightened around his neck, his hood upon his robes lowered as he set about checking his face. The scars may be long-since healed, but they hardly did anything to make Arceus smile as he looked more like a victim of a wolf or bear attack than a powerful Lord and Arch-Magus. Utilizing a prepared basin beside him, Arceus washed his face and hair before straightening it out with a small comb.

Raising his hand, his staff, a magnificently carven runed black stave of mahogany with a great red ruby fixed within its top flew to his palm from beside the bed. This staff had been won by him after he'd defeated his brothers for his throne, and it obeyed his will by sacred rite, as it had his father, the blood of Kyros said to have been poured into the very core of its making. Whether myth or truth wasn't entirely known to the modern generation of Kyros descendants, though it had an uncanny affinity to the ruler of the House and was a mighty tool nonetheless. 

His morning ritual done, Arceus stepped over to his windows to look out upon Cathal, his province. Gor Ithios stretched out before him below, but far further away were the rolling hills and farmlands, scattered woodlands, rivers, and distant mountains of his middling domain. Middling in everything but its penchant for producing some of the finest Sorcerers, magic items and services in all the world. The day looked to be another beautiful one, with everyone just waking up to start their business.

A knock came to the door of his room. Breaking Arceus' fixation on the world below.

[b]"Brother Arceus, are you decent?"[/b]

The young voice that echoed lightly and dimmed through the door was recognized immediately by Arceus as his younger brother Gerion. 14 years old, yet the youngest son of their father had been bold enough to stake his claim to the title of Arch-Magus. Naturally, his inexperience failed him where is passion drove him, but Arceus admired his tenacity enough to make his younger brother his page until the young man went off to the Academy for his formal education, which was admittedly approaching soon. Arceus replied to Gerion as he turned and walked towards the door, his leather boots tapping the stone floor lightly in between the rugs he had covering it as he walked.

[b]"Yes, Brother Gerion."[/b]

Gerion opened the door. He looked like a far more younger and far less sacred Arceus, though his fair was less stylized and still very boyishly cut. He wore simple Black and red embroidered robes with no hood, a symbol of his rank within the House compared to the more individualized hooded robes of the established Sorcerers.

[b]"Gerion, you know the customs, we may be brothers, but I am Arch-Magus. I forgive your lapse since we're in private, by I won't tolerate such formality in public or among other family at court."[/b]

Gerion swallowed a bit and blushed nervously, his pride had taken a beating during the duel and took much of the bravado he had out of him, leaving mostly just a desire to serve, though he always felt bad when he made a mistake.

[b]"Apologies, Arch-Magus. Shall we?"[/b]

[b]"Lets."[/b]

The two departed Arceus' room, their footsteps echoing softly through the darkly surfaced but well-lit halls of the Obsidian Tower, with candles having been lit during the day and sunlight following it through various windows, the place was hardly shadowy at all, revealing the sharp edges of the eerily silent carved halls of volcanic glass. They walked in silence, Gerion ahead while Arceus trailed behind, the Arch-Magus putting his hood up as they approached the throne room.

The throne room was a vast circular room of inlaid runes on the floor and carven throne of Obsidian, carved for a person to sit within it without immediate discomfort, but also hosting no cushions or pillows. To the immediate left sat a similar throne, and above it all were the Kyros colours and banner with rays of light being reflected in from massive shafts above.

The room itself was mostly devoid of people save for two at the moment, Arceus' uncle Thamiel, and his brother Eamon both in their own robes, with their own staffs slung over their backs. Two of his Courtiers of prominence, the for his wisdom, the other out of necessity and respect for his ability. They bowed slightly to the Arch-Magus as he and Gerion entered. Thamiel began.

[b]"Arch-Magus, your brother Eamon and I come before you prior to court's beginning with news you must be made aware of prior to its commencement."[/b]

Arceus raised an eyebrow beneath his hood, the young man leaning slightly on his staff as he stood beside the twin thrones talking to his relatives and courtiers both.

[b]"What news begets such action?"[/b]

Thamiel began, the older man carefully choosing his words.

[b]"We have received word that a mixing of Lands is taking place to herald King Merin's 99th birthday which is in two months, in which the Houses have been drawn by lot to host, or attend another for the purposes of -"[/b]

Eamon interjected abruptly. His face having become harder as their uncle carried on without getting to the point fast enough.

[b]"Our House has been chosen to have the illustrious privilege of hosting the beast-people of Gerlang!"[/b]

Arceus turned sharply to regard his elder brother, Gerion gasped beside him, and Thamiel looking over at him with a slight frown, but not really seeming to be pleased with delivering the news either. Arceus thought carefully before replying.

[b]"Do we know of which House is coming? The royal family?"[/b]  

Thamiel calmly responded while Eamon's face only seemed to grow harder.

[b]"We don't know, my Lord. What we have seems to imply you'd be informed today in person by a messenger of theirs, or the King's, maybe even both."[/b]

[b]"You cannot seriously be thinking of taking this post, brother?! Our House is an proud and mighty lineage, and yet King Merin sees fit to have us choose our potential brides out of monsters?"[/b]

Arceus' gaze was icy at Eamon. It wasn't long ago he had fought him for the title of Arch-Magus.

[b]"Remember yourself, brother, and let me handle whatever comes out of Gerlang. I know not what the King's play is, if this was even his own will, but I will be damned if I sully our House's honour in his eyes by poorly hosting the representatives of a noble family, foreign though they may be."[/b]

He took a step forward and leaning towards his brother, power seeping into his voice as the ruby on his staff glowed and his eyes lit with flicks of ruby-red light.

[b]"Nor shall I tolerate being embarrassed by relatives who refuse to obey their Lord's will and seek to sully the name of our house out of personal pride."[/b]

Eamon backed off, but the rebellion was not totally quelled in his eyes. Thamiel only looked on speechless as his nephews continued their little feud. Arceus looked away, toning back his power as the sorcerous light left his eyes and his staff. He turned regarding Gerion who was nervously looking on as Arceus himself went to seat himself in his throne, calmly putting a cap on the private discussion.

[b]"If there's nothing else you two wished to inform me off, call the court into attendance. Gerion, see if the kitchens have made breakfast if you please, I'm starving and think I'll need a clear head at today's court."[/b]