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Theodore was laughing at him, somewhere.

The past week hadn't been nearly the nightmare Tyler had thought it would be. By all means, stepping into a sudden and bloody succession should've been an utter mess to handle, to say nothing of the emotional turmoil Fyodor had thrust upon him by forcing him back into the line of duty under Theo's [i]replacement[/i]. Fortunately, the line of Gran ran a tight ship, and the civilized times had not led the Rodions to forget that they were no strangers to violent usurpation. A security team was already in place and any changes Tyler had to make were easily slotted into the existing chaos of the new lord's restructuring. It wasn't quite an Estoran ducal guard yet, but they were about as close as he could ask for.

As for the rest, Tyler had found a kindred spirit in Sorrel, for better or for worse. Namely, they were content to leave each other to drown in their respective regrets until it all boiled over one of these days. Sorrel was of a martial mind, a far cry from Theo, but Tyler found it welcome. The last time he'd walked into the Cathedra Incepta, his heart was heavy with the stain of dishonor. As he knelt, he felt only resentment for the blessing seared into his unworthy back, but when he rose again, the heavenly lightning in his veins cried out for retribution that service to a peacemaker would never satisfy.

Which is why, Tyler assumed, that the Goddess noted his temporary reprieve from misery and foisted upon him something suitably penitential. Like having to return to the Cathedra for the second time this month in a fucking [i]horse-drawn carriage[/i]. The very first Scion of Storms probably had a nicer ride than this, and that was a millennium ago.

Quite frankly, it was a security risk - not to mention a waste of time - and Tyler would be overhauling Sorrel's archaic taste in transportation the moment they arrived back in Gaia's frozen asshole, since renamed the Rodion Dominion. It was also downright embarrassing, and worse, slow enough that it had apparently arrived after the princely limousine, which he deduced from the license plate number ahead of them consisting of only a single digit. That little prick thought he was the guest of honor even when he wasn't, and here Sorrel was accidentally snubbing him in his own country.

Tyler wasn't given much time to dwell on it, as the carriage slowed to a halt - hopefully because they'd arrived and not because one of the engines had to take a shit - and Tyler stepped out to accompany his charge inside. Sorrel managed the paparazzi with all the barbarity his wolfskin cloak suggested, and Tyler took the behavior in stride, coming up to quickly wave the reporters off as he followed in his Scion's wake.

[color=00ccff]"His Holiness is not taking questions at this time,"[/color] Tyler announced as he veered away from Sorrel to outright place his hand over the lens of one of the nearer cameras. If they were going to talk about him online, he might as well steer the narrative. Once the vultures had seemingly gotten the hint, Tyler fell back into step behind Sorrel, just in time to enter through the main doors as a pair. Couldn't have Fyodor lecturing him for straying from his charge this early in the night.

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