The War of Transition

Chapter Two (Aran)

     His father's solar was exactly how he remembered it.

     Aran had only visited his father in Tiempas Port less than once a year, but his solar felt as lived in as his study was back in Tameria. Schools of dust motes danced in the air and books and parchment littered the dark oaken desks. The domed ceiling supported a number of angled skylights that allowed pillars of golden light to shine through, setting the carpet afire beneath.

     His father had left much behind, enough to occupy Aran for the remainder of the year. He walked to one of the desks and flipped through loose parchment and a scroll. He felt unprepared at that moment, staring down at diagrams and recipes that seemed to have their own language. 

     At another desk, Aran lifted a piece of metal--a bracer perhaps. Strapping it to his wrist, he understood the function was two fold. A thin sheet extended from the bracer, covering his arm as far as his elbow, while a beautifully crafted blade jutted out from the wristguard in the other direction, running against his palm and reaching the length of his longest finger. He held his arm up to the sunlight and smiled as the blade sparkled like a hidden gem. Aran smiled at his father's brilliance.

     "My lord." Someone said from behind.

     Aran turned to see Peter standing in the doorway of his father's solar. "You returned from Tameria?"

     "Yes. Your father might have passed but I serve the Avyrentus family now." He bowed. "If you have any questions, I would be pleased to answer them for you. You father left so much behind."

     "Thank you, Peter." The blade and armguard retracted into the bracer as if disappearing into thin air. He removed the piece of armour and placed it on the desk. "No doubt I will have many questions soon enough."

     "Very good. And you have a visitor, my lord. I'm sure she bears more answers than I." Peter stepped out into the hall and a woman in dark red silk and gold trimming entered, bowing once.

     "It's good to see you again, brother." Tyana Avyrentus' grin was playful. Aran would always be the older brother in his eyes despite what titles and powers were bestowed upon him.

     "Tyana." He replied and embraced his sister. Her clothes had the sweet fragrance of the Myriass Dragonfin, the fish in the harbor and market of the city.

     "You've grown quite a bit since I last saw you," She said lightheartedly before breaking the embrace to study him. 

     "What?" He asked after a few moments of silence. Tyana smirked as her eyes danced across the contours of his face, the lining in his clothes.

     "You're not the same brother I remember." She stepped back and scrutinized him as if he were a portrait. "You don't seem to fit here, in father's solar."

     "I'm not used to it, but I will be soon enough. He left so much behind I don't know if I can keep up with all of his work."

     Tyana chuckled at some half forgotten memory of their father and walked over to one of the desks, tracing a finger across a dust covered book. "He had his share of ambitions, but he stopped enjoying what he did long before he became ill." Under the scattered light shafting through the windows, his sister looked rougher than she had two years ago, when he last saw her. Her shoulders had broadened and her faced looked battered by hard labor. At thirty five, she looked to be of age--if not older--than Aran, and she hardly held any resemblance to the little sister she used to be. Aran missed that.

     "Father didn't want to be like father when he joined the council," she went on, taking a seat in a high chair facing a window. Aran could imagine him sitting there on cloudless nights and sunny mornings, reflecting in complete silence as he once did so often when he was a younger man. "But he's always been able to adapt to his surroundings, hasn't he?" She leaned forward, and, with a childlish grin that reminded Aran he was still her elder, she whispered, "and he's surrounded by old fools."