"The death of a god, wizards and clerics, a world in conflict, these are the things I came to Althanas to see," Wil said with satisfaction after listening to Elenore's somber recitation of recent events.
The man had arrived in Uiria the day before and arranged to meet with Elenore as a diplomatic envoy from Eudaemonia to one of its "wayward colonies." The initial discussions were terse and extremely cautious until the psion realized that the young man was a rebel himself, and not the vanguard of another Coronian Invasion. Eventually, the two sat down in the living room, before a fireplace burning with the last of winter's lumber. Wil stared in awe at the portrait of the late Arius and Linnea Mephisto over the mantle, before turning to notice Elenore scowling at him.
"It must be very exciting to you as a tourist, but this world is not your playground. It's that kind of thinking that has caused much suffering wrought by Eudaemonian hands," Elenore chastised him.
"I don't mean to dilute the seriousness of things, but the peaceful world that Arius envisioned for you is waiting for you in Architelos right now if you would like to live in it. It is a drab city full of drab people leading drab lives of hundreds of years. How does that sound?" Wilhelm challenged her.
"At least my mother would still be alive," Elenore said wistfully, speaking firmly to a set of values utterly different from Wilhelm's. "What do you want from Uiria, Bosche?" She spoke his surname with the contempt his ancestor had earned for it.
"Access. I want to read your records, hear your stories, learn what my people have done in this world. I want to be a part of our culture here," he explained. "I'm an exile no different than your father, but I seek a different sort of respite."
"Citizenship, then?" Elenore responded. "It is a rather rigorous process."
Wilhelm glanced across the room at her with a wry smile. "I am a Eudaemonian of the old stock: Progress always," he recited.
Elenore simply rolled her eyes and stood at the sound of the teakettle's whistle from the kitchen. She walked away without a word, leaving the man to his posturing. He was easily several decades her elder, if what he said about Eudaemonian life spans was true, but she could not help but find him a petulant child, no better than her brother. Having another of his sort around the city would be more dangerous than almost anything else. Reaching into the cabinet she retrieved an old crystal flask and poured a bit of rum into her tea before turning to the other room with the two cups.
"Very well. I have no doubt of your intellectual qualifications, but we are a very selective group of people. Unlike our kin in Beta Space, we cannot breed perfection in children, but we can choose meritorious adults. If you want to join us, you can show that you are capable of bearing the burden of your ancestry," Elenore preached, pleased to have constructed a win-win proposition for herself. "I have recently completed negotiations with a representative of the League of Salvic States, you are familiar with them?"
"League? Salvar is a monarchy, or it was last Architelos heard of it," Wil responded, intrigued to update his understanding.
"Things have changed. Civil war rages between the aristocracy and the clergy. Neither are particularly noble, but as a Eudaemonian you must understand that we find it easiest to deal with greedy noblemen than irrational zealots. As such, I have agreed to assist them with supplies and a few technological devices from our stores. Nothing that will imbalance the region's power structure, ultimately, but hopefully enough to tip the scales in their favor."
"Isn't that just the kind of arrogance that you seem so distrustful of?" Wil pointed out.
"Uiria has every right to influence world events with a light touch just like everyone else," Elenore scowled. "Unlike my brother, I am unwilling to replace that with an iron fist. Understood?"
"Whatever distinctions keep your ideology running," Wil smirked. "Where do I come in?"
"Nowhere if you don't change your attitude," Elenore took a gulp of her spiked tea and attempted to calm herself a bit. "There is a freighter stocked with other goods bound for the League leaving port in a few hours. I'll arrange your transport there, you arrange that our assistance arrives safely. Agreed?"
"Agreed," Wil nodded without further snark. He followed Elenore's directions to the basement where he loaded several crates into his storage buffer. They were all labeled with nondescript sounding stamps: foodstuffs, raw materials, medical supplies. While he knew that even these could be quite devious if they were Eudaemonian in make, the final crate gave him the most pause. It read 'Uirian Goods'. He stored it away all the same.
"Is there some transport I should be boarding?" he asked.
"Something like that," she smirked and waved her hand. Her psionic energies punted him through the fabric of space as effortlessly as one might flick away an insect, and with much greater accuracy.
When the world around him stopped spinning, he found himself at the docks of a bustling port. Which one, he couldn't be sure, but there was a small vessel to his right, styled the Red Wake. He hefted his storage buffer and glanced through the crowd for a gangplank.