With a sigh, Tēmānu dropped the pen he'd been writing with and stared at the wall with dissatisfaction. True to his word, he'd moved into the old ambassador's manor. He understood the significance of the gesture, of showing the Strythani that he respected their practices and culture, but he missed the sunny building overlooking the harbor with every fibre of his being.

The lack of windows was tough to get used to, no matter how many lanterns the servants arrayed throughout his rooms. He supposed he'd be grateful for the manor once winter returned, and the hillock the manor was buried under protected him from the bitter cold, but it was barely summer now. The house was dark and stuffy to an almost unbearable degree, especially when he remembered the bright, sunny day he'd caught a glimpse of before retreating into his study.

He toyed with the pen, trying to work up the will to carry on with his letters, before tossing it aside with a grunt. Screw it.

Tēmānu quickly changed before heading out. Although he had no plans to visit anyone - he just wanted to feel the sunshine on his skin and get some fresh air - he knew there was a reasonable chance he'd run into somebody he knew.

Kār-Apûm wasn't like the capital. He could roam the streets of Dūr-Tṣadê for hours without running into anyone he knew, as long as he stayed clear of the castle, but the Strythani city felt much size than its size. Whenever he went on a walk, he was almost guaranteed to run into somebody - be it one of the elders on the council or a member of one of the Houses he was courting. Or Damqa, he thought, with a touch of mingled thrill and shame.

Of all the people he'd come to know in the last few months, Damqa was the closest to a friend. She'd only tentatively agreed to help when they'd met at her wedding, still not certain, despite her humiliation, if she wanted to aggravate the family she'd married into.

But that had changed when she'd retired to her new manor to find her 'groom' in their bed with the blonde he'd been cavorting with.

The event had caused a minor scandal in the court. House Barbaru had demanded that the marriage be annulled and that Damqa be allowed to retain her dowry for the insult given to them, while the head of House Akkû, with obvious embarrassment, had petitioned the king to allow his son to take a secondary wife. Both requests had been turned down flat, leaving a stewing mess of resentment.

Damqa hadn't cared after that if helping Tēmānu would upset her new 'family.' If anything, Tēmānu knew she probably hoped it would upset them. Thanks to her efforts, he'd been welcomed into House Barbaru's good graces. They'd already offered their tentative support to the Empire and, more importantly, had greased the doors for him to meet with several other Houses.

It would be the perfect situation if it weren't for the somersaults his stomach did every time he was near her or the knowledge that she would never feel the same. He was just a cripple, after all. A real one, unlike her.

Realizing his steps had unwittingly taken him close to her family's manor, Tēmānu altered his course. He didn't want to see her today, to be reminded of everything he wanted and couldn't have. A voice hailed him from somewhere up the street, and, pretending he hadn't heard, he hastily ducked down an alley.

He ran to the end of the lane without stopping, and rounded the corner into the next street. Just once, I'd like to take a walk alone, he grumbled as he darted across the road and, matching his pace to a passing farm cart, continued down the street till he came to the next intersection.

Only then did he slow down and take a look at his surroundings long enough to realize that he'd found himself back near the Ilrabû's temple. He hadn't gone back since the first time he'd spoken with the priest. There had been something unsettling about the man, something that told Tēmānu he was better off avoiding him, but he knew that couldn't last forever. Eventually, he would have to make contact again; it was his duty to the Empire.

But not today. He felt a bit silly as he rushed past the temple steps without even looking up, but he had the strange feeling that if he did, the priest would be there waiting for him, and he would feel compelled to go talk to him.

So Tēmānu didn't relax until he had left the temple in his dust. Only then was he able to truly appreciate the beauty of the day. The sun was hot on his back, soaking through his clothes with a pleasant warmth that drove away the still slightly chilly breeze that drifted off the sea. It was practically perfect and, finding a small garden in which to rest, Tēmanu closed his eyes and communed with his goddess.

The constant tension in Ḫaḫḫuru's court, the rumblings of the priests, Eligon's incessant letters, his pointless feelings for Lady Damqa. With the sun on his back and the wind in his hair, it was easy to feel at peace, easy to let his problems drift away.

He barely noticed the sound of footsteps behind him until a shadow fell across his shoulders, cutting off the sun.

I guess it was too much to hope for some alone time. Suffocating his sigh, Tēmānu opened his eyes. "Can I help you?"

"Can you help me?" He turned as the person behind him laughed harshly and, this time, he couldn't hide his frown.

Six men stood around Damqa's husband, with wooden clubs gripped tightly in their hands. Tēmānu was fairly certain that he'd seen one of them at the wedding table, but the others were unfamiliar. Just retainers, he decided.

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"I don't need help from a cripple like you," the man spat. "I need to stay away from my wife. People are talking."

Tēmānu snorted. "And you think that's because of me? Look at me," he gestured at his withered arm. "Nobody thinks anything is going on between us." He knew he should hold his tongue, but anger got the better of him. "And if anyone is talking, it's because of your actions. I was there at the wedding, you know - the whole kingdom saw you humiliate her."

His head snapped back as Akītu punched him, and he fell to the ground. The man stomped down, aiming for his ruined arm, but Tēmānu rolled out of the way.

"Stop this - are you insane?" he yelled, as he scrambled to his feet. "I'm an ambassador for the Empire."

"To the void with the Empire," the man snarled. "King Ḫaḫḫuru may be stupid enough to think the Empire is worth helping, but not all of us are blinded by the past. Why should we be afraid of a people too weak to control their own capital?"

Because we'd crush you in a month? Biting back the unhelpful sarcasm, Tēmānu tried once more to talk him down. "You don't have to like us, but surely you realize attacking an ambassador is a bad idea. Even if you don't care about Lord Eligon's response, you know Lord Ḫaḫḫuru will be angry."

"Will he?" Akîtu smirked. "Because I don't think he cares about you at all. You know, the ambassadors of old had an honor guard assigned to them. They dined in the palace nearly every day and were welcomed into the councils. But you?" He scoffed. "Ḫaḫḫuru spies on you, because he's too bloody paranoid to trust anyone. He might offer a few apologies, but he won't actually do anything. He wouldn't dare. So…"

Tēmānu's backpedaling came to an end as he hit a tree, and the seven men closed in around him. "Here's what's going to happen. You're going to stay away from her, stay away from her family, stay away from every single one of her friends. Your little recruiting gig is over."

Lord Vāya nipped at his ears as Tēmānu reached for the wind. "I don't suppose there's any chance of peacefully resolving this?" he asked mildly.

"Not til you've learned your lesson."

"Good." Tēmānu smiled nastily. "I needed to hear you say that."

"Why-" Akîtu never finished the sentence as a gust of wind caught him in the gut and tossed him a dozen feet away.

"On him!"

A shimmering shield of air burst into place around him as the men closed in. Reinforcing the left side, Tēmānu allowed the right to shatter as the men beat it with clubs. He dodged to the side as the club whistled toward him, grunting in pain as it clipped the elbow of his weathered arm, but kept control of his spell as he raised his hand. "Naprus̆."

The three men on his right side went flying with considerably more force than he'd used on Akîtu. Two landed in the garden, tearing long streaks of dirt in the grass before rolling to a stop, but the third hit the cobblestones of the street beyond. His body bounced along the stones, leaving a smear of blood before he stopped moving.

"You killed him!" Tēmānu hadn't counted on one of Akîtu's thugs using an actual ability, and he failed to move in time before the man crushed his shield with an angry blow. His shoulder cracked as he was driven against the tree, but he managed to duck beneath the second blow and, with another wave of his hand, knock them off their feet.

"Enough," he roared. "Stop this pointless fight - you can't beat me."

He'd almost forgotten about the young lord himself, but he slid to the side as Vāya murmured a warning in his ear. Flesh and cloth tore as Akîtu's sword slashed through the place he'd been standing. "Are you insane?" He gasped as he clasped a hand to his wounded side, trying to stem the loss of blood. "You're trying to kill me now?"

The young lord was past reason as he swung down at him again, and Tēmānu - finally - stopped holding back. "So be it."

The man's sword was snapped in two as Tēmānu's wind blade intercepted it, and with another flick of his hand, the noble was tossed back onto the ground. The remaining thugs, save for the one who still lay motionless on the street, charged at him, but Tēmānu held his ground. "Patrammurru," he hissed.

The spell wasn't much to look at, a barely visible arc of white that expanded rapidly outward in a semi-circular shape, but the men were not entirely foolish. They tried to throw themselves to the side, but only one of them was fast enough. Blood splattered the ground as the arc of wind sliced through the Strythani, dissecting everyone it hit.

"Stay down," he snarled at the man who lay on the ground whimpering, covered in the blood of his friends and, this time, the thug was smart enough to listen.

Akîtu rolled to his feet, eyes wide in terror, as Tēmānu limped toward him, clutching his bleeding side. "You-you can't kill me. My father will-"

"Shut up," he snapped, and Akîtu fell silent.

"Do you know why the durgū haven't invaded yet? Even though our Empire is a shell of its former glory, their king still isn't certain he can defeat mages like me. The stoneflesh have the advantage of resisting our magic, but durgū," he chuckled mirthlessly. "Durgū do not. Nor do your kind," he added menacingly.

The man's face was pale as a ghost by now, all traces of his former bluster gone, as he lifted his hand beseechingly. "Please, you can't kill me-"

"Oh, I can," Tēmānu growled. "But, fortunately for your sake, it's not worth dealing with the inevitable whining your father would raise. But I can't let you just go free. The insult you gave was too serious to ignore, so I'm afraid your father will have to accept a little punishment."

The man screamed as Tēmānu used the wind to suspend him midair. "And I think I know the perfect punishment." With a twist of his fingers, he summoned a nearly physical blade of wind into his hand. "Think of this as punishment not from me, but from your dear wife," he said as he sliced the sword down the man's groin. "I'm sure you'll find a healer to grow that back eventually but, in the meantime, at least you can't humiliate her."

He dropped the man back to the ground and, ignoring his screams, limped toward the street, fumbling for a healing potion. Of course, he hadn't brought one. It was supposed to be a pleasant walk in the sun after all, nothing more, and a momentary touch of panic hit him as he realized how far he was from the ambassador's manor. Can I make it before I bleed out?

And then he noticed the temple and at the top, just as he had imagined it earlier, stood a tall man looking straight at him. The priest beckoned with an imperious wave, and Tēmānu nearly laughed as the realization sank in. He hadn't wanted to meet with the man, but perhaps he'd been wrong. Especially if Akîtu's attitude was any indication of what Ḫaḫḫuru really thought of them. It doesn't matter who sits on the throne as long as they work with us, he decided as he limped toward the priest.

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