The Crown Prince and his Mentor

Falco was sixteen twelvemonths of age. His ruddy skin was unscarred, his red hair short and curly and his eyes mismatched with the left blue and the right green. He was lean and hungry in appearance and stood at a height of five feet and five inches with a square jaw and hooked nose, both inherited from his father Tigris. He was humbly dressed, wearing only a red loincloth, meaning he could be mistaken for something other than a prince.

Sitting upon the trireme headed back to Aether from Tethys, Falco stroked his caracal Kenneth. As a caracal, Kenneth was a medium-sized cat with a robust build, long legs, a short face, long black tufted ears and long canine teeth. His coat was uniformly reddish-tan and as a male he stood at twenty inches at the shoulder, was three and forty inches in head and body length and his bushy tail was thirteen inches long. He was a twelvemonth old and had been born among one of the many caracals who were trained for hunting game birds.

As the two sat before the mast, the shadow of Falco's mentor Achilles soon fell upon them both. He belonged to Aether's native populace and as such had olive skin, wavy white hair that had been black in his youth, high cheekbones and almond-shaped blue eyes. He was sixty twelvemonths old, stood at a height of five feet and eight and a half inches and was as lean as Falco was. Save for a horizontal scar over his right eye, he would have been rather non-descript, for he could have easily vanished into a crowd if not for that scar of his. Like his student, he was humbly dressed, wearing a blue tunic. Achilles had been many things: soldier, philosopher, statesman and magic-user and so it was that he had been selected to be the mentor of the Crown Prince of Aether.

"What is on your mind, my student?" inquired Achilles, his voice deep and smooth. "Could it be your father's well-being in our absence? Your father is a great warrior and a great magician and he has Aedan by his side. There is no need to worry about him, Falco."

"I have every reason to fear for my father, Achilles." Replied Falco, his voice rich and smooth. As he stroked Kenneth, his features took on a brooding look as he uttered: "Taurus is growing bolder. He slew Rowena's father and bridegroom a few days before we left. I am as worried about Rowena as I am about my father."

Falco and Rowena had been besotted with one another ever since they were eleven twelvemonths old. They had grown up together, the children of noble families descended from immigrants and eventually friendship had begun to turn into adoration. Rowena had grown to become the comeliest gentlewoman in the palace, something that Falco did not care one bit about. He had loved her before then, yet still rival suitors did exist and with Rowena's family being affluent and socially prominent with palace connections going back to the beginning of the previous dynasty one and seventy and two hundred twelvemonths prior, every social climber in the palace was after her hand in marriage. One such social climber had taken advantage of her father Alfred's overconfidence and love of gambling to win her hand in marriage and so Rowena had a bridegroom, Hannibal by appellation. Both Alfred and Hannibal made the mistake of not mistaking Taurus to the wedding, leading to their deaths before Hannibal and Rowena had been declared man and wife. Rowena had no love for Hannibal, yet she had loved her father and so she both feared and hated the High Priest of the Earth Bull.

"Taurus must be on trial if not executed, Falco." Scoffed Achilles, now taking a seat upon the deck of the ship.

"I doubt it." Falco replied, scratching his chin. "The Priesthood of the Earth Bull has been amassing power for a long time. Their high priest might as well be another Deucalion."