War Of Men

Arcane

A/N: The song should be listened to when Arcane plays the Carmella Respere. It's not great and I might replace it in the future, but I wanted to give you something.

'They had one job. One job...!'

Arcane had been awoken before she had wanted to by the sound of the Chèr's anger. His and Medea's argument echoed through the corridors, destroying any hope of a lie in. Not that Arcane didn't have things she was meant to be doing. The king's birthday celebrations were to be held that evening and the palace was busy preparing. Extra dance lessons had been scheduled even though Arcane didn't need them. She'd been practicing the lyre for hours on end too. Free time was a luxury an Eseterrian apparently wasn't meant to have.

Arcane quickly dressed herself in her grumpiness, then found where the Chèr and his Voire were arguing. They were in his office in the Eseterrian's quarters. He was sat at his mahogany desk, anger blazing in his eyes, like a fire burning so hot it had turned blue. His hair that he usually kept tidily combed was now all over the place and the dark room cast his freckles into shadow. He looked like a different person, slightly scary.

Medea was unfazed. The Voire sat on his desk, bare feet dangling in the air. Her brown hair twisted over her shoulder, her dark blue dress hung loosely over her form. She was like the eye of his hurricane.

'So did the last Voire, but she wasn't any good at it.' A smile played on Medea's lips and the bit of sunlight in the room gave her face a divine glow.

The Chèr wasn't in a joking mood. He scowled at her. 'He was our prisoner! They never should have been able to waltz into here and snatch him from under our noses.'

'And what use is a prisoner? I say they can take him. If they want to crown him and drape him in gold and silver, they can go ahead. We were just going to execute him anyway. A waste of a perfectly good afternoon.'

'It's a matter of principle and faith!'

'It's purely politics. The council may proclaim itself to be filled with men of faith, but all they want is power—which, coincidentally is rather inkeeping with our dear spirits. And with you, I think as much as you believe in the spirits, it's just as much about revenge.'

'It's not—' He stopped to stare at her, then started again with a huge scowl, 'You knew, didn't you?'

'I never saw anything. I was too busy looking for signs of other Eseterrians at your command.'

'Don't throw this back at me! And Arcane, when you're spying on people, don't stand in front of a light source.'

'I wasn't spying on you. I was waiting for the chance to tell you two to shut up. You woke me up, and I doubt the others managed to sleep through that,' grumbled Arcane.

'Good, since none of you can afford to waste time. In times of crisis, Eseterrians are more important than ever, not to mention you're meant to be playing at the king's birthday, a waste of all of our time.'

Medea got off the desk. 'I'm sure that Arcane plays splendidly and her performance will please the king greatly. Don't take your anger out on Arcane, she's not done anything.'

'On the contrary, I've had to reschedule various pointless dance and instrumental lessons as well as tea parties because Miss Bay's father is desperate to see his daughter,' the Chèr ranted.

Arcane couldn't help but be surprised. She hadn't heard from her father in all this time. Many a night she had wondered whether he knew that she was an Eseterrian, since last she'd heard he was far across the globe, trying to find new investors. Thanks to Arcane's age, he'd left her at court with Merari. He'd suggested she tried to find a rich suitor who would invest in his business ventures.