Haroun asked an attendant for whatever was left over from dinner, cold chicken and bread...but with the sauce the cook had mustered up along with the fresh dressing of tomatos, olive and lettuce they had made a masterpiece. A cold glass coconut milk was given alongside the plate and the Elden Yokeda went to work.
"We must send an expedition to acquire it. It would be an honor to see it on the battlefield, in the hands of the High King."
Chewing profusely, having missed dinner due to the war council, his green eyes drifted away from his food towards his cousin, mouth full...he took the coconut milk and helped it wash some of the sandwhich down.
"...Perhaps."
Or perhaps it belongs in the hands of a hero more suited and more able to display it on the battlefield. Perhaps it belongs in the hands of an Ahkbar.
The High King himself respected the Sword of Ator as a symbol, but feared its proximity to the HoonDing, Aryon's words...concerning the enantiomorph and HoonDing, if Haroun was a mirrior...what would the HoonDing be capable of if he wielded his own reflection?
"Or perhaps it would be better suited to one of the field commanders...who would be seen by the soldiers more often. I've no desire to wield the sword of Ator, its symbolism would be lost in the hands of a High King...but in the hands of a man who bleeds and suffers with his own men, it would be a great testament. Your worthy Ruhk." he finished his glass, and in a few monstrous bites: his sandwich. Raised up from the chair at the counter, he placed his hands on his cousin's back, all facade gone and a boyish grin on his face.
"I'll have Frandar fund the expedition and prepare papers. You have my, and the Empire's blessing. I'd hate to see you leave cousin, but when you return to Stros M'kai, you will have all that you need to fund and sanction the search and seizure of the Artifact. Now, I have a daughter and wife to get to."
Haroun's face lightened, his mood brightened by the brief time spent with his cousin, but also the news of the Sword of the Crown Prince. He looked forward to reuniting Roxanna with Bomlikar, and spending as much time possible with the two women who occupied his life. He wished for more.
Minutes later...
He entered his quarters, sighing and weary from the toll the day had taken on his mind. Without searching for his wife he disrobed, sliding into loose silken pantaloons and placing his feet into Jet slippers. His heavily tattooed body being illuminated by the candle light, casting tricks as if the images inked onto him moved and had a life of their own. He moved further into his villa sized room, his eyes closing slightly with affection at the sight of his Queen, the Empress Roxanna.
"I have a gift for you..."
One that trumps any bauble, your flesh and blood has returned. he thought to himself, he would enjoy keeping his wife's mind guessing. Such were the light hearted tortures of married men.