[center][img]https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/562997686395994142/1010563877110567002/cycs-god-rp.png[/img] [hr] [img]https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/1005518715980369930/1011020105204895844/Zeus.png[/img][/center] [hr] A sticky, spreading dampness welled up on the Heir’s temple, his chest, and his underarms. He’d just come from the baths and dried himself, and already he was growing to become drenched again. His sweat was pressed down upon him so tightly that it couldn’t even bead – an effect of his activated deflectors and personal forcefield. The air around his face also shimmered gently. As though they were no more than hazy mirages, the exquisite tapestries and reliefs that lined the hallway’s wall were distorted by the energy field that shrouded his bathrobe and skin, but in that moment the Heir had no eyes for decor; everything in that hallway would have been a blur anyways because he was racing down it as quickly as he could. Two of his favored demigod bodyguards from the Sacred Band, a Theseus and one Jason, ran at his heels. His mind had been conjuring images the whole way, but once he walked out onto the terrace and saw the grisly remains of Zeus, he quietly gasped. His gut nearly turned, and his brows furrowed deeply. This was much worse than he’d imagined. In the span of what could have only been an hour or two, the corrupted vitality nanites had ravaged the corpse and rendered it into a fetid ooze. Muddied with the metallic odor of blood was the ripe stench of something that had seemingly been left to roft for days, the stale and fishy scent of ammonia, and other unpleasant chemical odors that came as the product of more obscure volatile compounds. The Heir spun about, looking everywhere. Of course the area had already been secured and there was no assassin hiding behind a marble pillar or lurking in the shrubs, but in these crucial moments the Heir needed to be vigilant of everyone’s presence, their faces, and their moves. Deep down his emotions towards Zeus swirled. There had not been much love between the two of them, but even still, the ugly death and its circumstances filled him with an inner turmoil. Fortunately those confusing emotions could be set aside for the nonce, for there was a much more pressing matter at hand – his own ascension. This is what he had been created for, and every day for years on end (an eternity for one so young!) he’d seen his own ascension and coronation as king. He’d seen it in his reveries thousands of times, but it had never been this chaotic, this messy… It felt mad, and hardly believable, that things had come to this. That this was truly happening! Was it just a dream? The Heir, no, [i]Zeus[/i] – he was already Zeus now – shook himself out of the idiotic stupor and the swirling thoughts that had held him in their grasp for a good ten moments. He needed to be decisive and kingly, to project strength and stability, not youthful turbulence. So he made note of everyone present at the scene: many guards had already arrived, and more were coming with every passing minute. He couldn’t keep track of them all, didn’t even know all their names. Theseus clenched his jaw and Jason’s eyes widened a bit with morbid curiosity as they looked at what was left of the former King of Olympus, but those subtle, silent reactions were all that either of them offered. The two demigods had seen enough battle and death to stomach worse. That was good. Zeus trusted in the loyalty of those two, and he needed calm and decisive men right then to ensure that his claim was not brushed aside by another. To the side, Zeus’ majordomo paced quickly back and forth, animated with frenzied thought. That man would panic, Zeus knew, but in the end he would accede to the rightful claim of his new King, for he had been close to the late Zeus and knew that the god had wished for his Heir to take his place. Hera was that man’s opposite as she stood still in statuesque shock, a dumbfounded look on her face. [i]She[/i] might perhaps pose a problem. The Heir found himself staring at her, and after a long pause she looked up to meet his gaze. He snorted with contempt and addressed her, “Leave. You’re only getting in the way here, and we all know that he never loved you anyways.” A storm of emotions flooded into her then, snapping her out of that corpse-like stupor. “He was my husband,” she spat back with indignation, “I’ve known him for lifetimes, long before you came along, and you, you’re only–” “Only your king?” Zeus offered, and a sudden panic lit her eyes. The thought hadn’t occurred to her yet? Oh, her own wretched children certainly would not be taking [i]his[/i] rightful place. “Only Zeus?” he said again, a smile beginning to creep up at the corner of his lips. No trace remained of that stoicism she’d had about her mere moments ago; her cheeks were red, and her eyes too. Tears were already beginning to well up in the corner of the widow’s eyes. Time to twist the knife! “Only your husband?” he whispered, stepping close and grabbing her hand. The next horrified look that sprung up on the damned woman’s face was a memory that Zeus would cherish forever. He allowed her to break free of his grasp and flee. [hr] Time had passed quickly once Zeus had started giving commands. He had a proper kingly bearing, self-assured and confident, and in moments of turmoil and crisis, lesser men flocked to such figures like moths to a light. Zeus found himself sliding into that role easier than he’d ever expected. A part of him wished that his originator could have seen him then. That thought came from a childish longing for approval and respect, but deep down Zeus knew that it was unlikely the [i]old[/i] Zeus would have had much positive to say. He never had been fully appreciated, had he? He couldn’t suppress a scowl from forming. [sub]”Your orders, Lord?”[/sub] a man asked again, hesitance and anticipation in his eyes. Zeus hadn’t even heard him the first time. He turned his head fast enough to make that [i]minion[/i] flinch. “The guards that were on duty here this morning,” Zeus began with an imperious tone, “and the servants, too. I want full memory audits on all of them, immediately. Have the report brought to me by nightfall.” “M-My lord,” he stammered. It was hardly afternoon, and Zeus was already getting used to the title and tired of the sniveling weasels that seemed to so often mutter it. “The scans, they, they take time, and if rushed, the effects, they can er, traumatize the subject…” “Do it anyway.” An icy glare ended the conversation and sent that one scurrying off. He turned to the Majordomo then. “Do we have this under grasps? How many of the gods have had the assassination leaked to them yet?” The steward contemplated that for a pregnant pause. “All of them, I would guess. It’s impossible to suppress news like this for long, Your Grace.” Zeus inhaled deeply, slowly, his eyes closed and his teeth gritting. Then he opened them and nodded, much to the nervous Majordomo’s relief. He would have to keep moving; if he stopped even for a moment, he would sink. He had to [i]sprint[/i], to [i][b]fly[/b][/i], in order to stay ahead of this. He thought out his next move carefully, before finally activating his personal connection to I.R.I.S. and sending the inevitable call. When it came to speed, he had to have the final word on the matter at his beck and call. With an over-embellished crack that split through the air, a tall winged figure seemed to unfold from empty space amidst the assembled group. A lithe figure adorned in flowing gray robes with a wide-brimmed helmet, Hermes, Herald of the Gods, appeared with his characteristic nonchalance and peerless timing - seeming to appear almost as soon as the notion had occurred that he might be needed. “The King is dead. Long live the King.” He quipped dryly. His back was turned to Zeus Prime, his many wings neatly folding in upon themselves and merging into a single cloak about his shoulders. The messenger of the gods stared down at the necrotic remains of… …of Zeus’ predecessor. Yes. That was the only way to think of it now. By then there wasn’t even much left of the remains save for a red and brown stain; most had already been vacuumed up and sent to GULA for analysis. After a single moment of hushed silence, Hermes swept around and performed a low, exaggerated bow before Zeus. “Oh King of the Heavens, as ever, it is I, your faithful and most fleet-footed servant. Speak your piece, and into the ears of every mind in the land it shall be delivered most expeditiously and with exigent urgency. From the highest peaks to the lowest bounds of Tartarus, I shall convey your will.” [i]Hermes seems to learn quickly,[/i] Zeus found himself thinking with some satisfaction. Doubt gnawed, of course. He had to question just how genuine this overblown display and those words were, but for now he put his trust in the messenger. “All of the High Pantheon, everyone of importance, even Hades in his hole… his son, too, whatever that one’s name was–” “Zagreus, your highness.” Hermes quipped lazily. It was startling. Hermes would [i]never[/i] have appended such a corrective statement to the end of [i]anything[/i] Zeus’ predecessor had said - and in front of all these servants, no less, who would know much the same. Already a crack had been struck in Zeus’ image, scarcely a minute into his renewed rule. Venom filled his eyes for it. For the briefest of instants, Zeus had stolen a glance at Theseus where he stood at ease. The demigod’s soldierly disposition was unchanged, without the slightest indication that he’d noticed. [i]But had Jason cocked his head just a bit?[/i] There had been a pregnant pause after Hermes’ quip. Zeus stepped closer to him. “Hermes,” he began, “I do not care what the shit’s name is. You will go to him, and all the others, and tell them that they are summoned. I need them here by noon tomorrow.” “As quick as starlight then, my King. Every member of the High Pantheon, and their immediate scions, shall receive your summons from my own person in the next two minutes.” Hermes’ cape unfolded into a set of six sprawling wings once more, almost as if they were about to take flight. “A moment, lord Hermes,” the Majordomo started. Now it seemed that even he was allowed to interrupt. “I will have the [i]cordial invitations[/i] printed; an event of this gravity calls for ink, not mere words.” Now, even the steward was making corrections, subtle as they might have been – a [i]summons[/i] had been turned into an [i]invitation.[/i] Perhaps that would keep a few egos from chafing. Worse still, Hermes’ wings withdrew once more, his helmeted head turned with a faint incline towards the Majordomo before glancing back towards Zeus - watching for his reaction, doubtlessly gauging how receptive he would be to recommendations and advice from his lessers. Zeus blinked. “Yes, [i]ceremony[/i]… I will not make a trivial affair of this. Prepare the invitations. But word them carefully; they all [i]will[/i] be attending.” “A most judicious decision to have made, King.” Hermes supplied airily. It was not the tone that bothered Zeus as much as the choice of words - as if Hermes were consciously acknowledging that it had been the Majordomo’s idea rather than his own, whilst crediting Zeus - and again, made in front of so many of his own servants. “I will, of course, be certain to impress upon the Pantheon the [i]irremissible[/i] nature of these invitations should your thoughtful courtesy fail to have the desired effect.” The Lord of the Skies nodded at that, pleased if not quite smug. The Majordomo hastily shuffled off to see it done, and so Zeus was suddenly left with the onlooking crowd - and Hermes, standing amidst them, almost preening as he waited. One of the guards made the mistake of looking directly at his king of a few hours. “What are you gawking at?!” Zeus demanded. “Make yourself useful and find the interrogators! See if those servants have squealed anything of use, if we’re any closer to discovering the culprits.” Even as the soldier began to turn and run off, his face pale as marble, Zeus finished, “Hermes has a task to do.” Yes, equating that trivial choir with Hermes’ work was one subtle step towards putting the messenger god back into his place. Zeus’ outburst there had drawn even more attention, though now most made sure to not stare too closely. An awkward restlessness hung over him; he felt the need to do [i]something[/i]. Idling around would not lend itself well towards commanding a regal or authoritative aura. “We [i]will[/i] find who did this,” he declared to them all without a trace of doubt in his tone. “It may take some time, but we will find them eventually. And they’ll welcome the depths of Tartarus with relief after I’ve finished with them!” Hermes turned his head to stare at Zeus then, and though his gaze remained hidden and inscrutable behind its sheening face, the hunch of the Herald’s shoulders and the slight tilt to his stance suggested he found something about Zeus’ statement humorous - or was he simply imagining it? The Majordomo returning with the printed invitations stopped Zeus from barking out at Hermes as he had with the guard. “From your lips to their ears, from your hands to theirs.” Hermes accepted the printed invitations with what was clearly a practiced flourish, the artificially-aged and rolled parchment spinning through his metallic-sheened fingers before vanishing into the folds of his cloak. “If there is nothing further you require of me, I shall make haste - with your leave, my King?” “You may go,” Zeus told him, “...and Hermes, you too are naturally [i]invited[/i] to tomorrow’s event, as befits your station.” “Oh? Me? Such an honor.” Hermes swayed as if to feign a faint. “I shall be certain to wear my very finest closed-toe sandals. Until then, my King.” Hermes’ cloak unfolded into a set of six wings, which then seemed to shimmer as golden and shadowed light played across them - and with another embellished crack that split through the air, Hermes was gone.