No Place Like Home [Asirikai/Kev]

[Zen]

10th Pass, 6th Turn, 10th Month
Turn 2761, Autumn

Podrell

Mavros seemed to be lacking in some of the barest necessities to be called a Hold, in Podrell’s opinion, and today was not the first day he questioned his decision in coming here and vying for the spot as it’s future Lord. It would grant him the rank he wanted, sure, but at what cost? This was hardly the way he wanted to live, and getting Mavros to any semblance of a proper Hold was going to be a shell of a lot of work. He wasn’t afraid of work, but shards there was a long path ahead to get anywhere.

In the couple months he’d been at Mavros he’d spoken to plenty of the holders and crafters in residence and was always surprised with how they would proudly declare they were doing so well considering their circumstances. This was what they considered doing well? These people really needed to raise their standards. Of course he didn’t tell them that. He had found that the Mavrosi were an incredibly independent people who took pride in their struggles, and because of those struggles had become a rather simple folk, easily pleased. All to the better for him, he supposed, as any slight betterment to their standard of living would likely be met with great joy from the populace.

In the meantime, however, there was little he could do about how things were. He was not Lord of Mavros and had no authority here or anywhere, not yet, nor did he have the backing of a Lord father or brother as some of the other men in the running did. His grandfather would likely be supporting his uncle Dirinsin if he was supporting any of his kin in their bid for Lordship, but even that he was uncertain about. Dirinsin had already tried and failed not once but twice and he wasn’t sure his grandfather would take a risk on him a third time. It didn’t matter. He didn’t need anyone’s help. He could win out on his own merits.

But he had been wondering about his uncles and how they were getting on at Mavros, and there was a twinge of jealousy at the thought that they might have better lodgings than he did because they were closer to a Lord than he was. He had mostly avoided both men thus far in his stay, preferring to focus on the Mavrosi people who would be deciding which of them would be granted Lordship of their Hold. Such a strange concept that, too. Normally a new Lord was confirmed in Conclave by the other Lords of Pern, not by the people he led. Well, perhaps that would level the playing field for him a bit. The Lords of Pern would be biased toward their own ways, but who knew exactly what the people of Mavros would prefer? He was still trying to figure that out. He could be what they needed, whatever they wanted, if he just knew what that was. He was piecing it together but the picture was not yet complete.

With these thoughts in mind, he decided to drop in on his uncle Asirikai, wondering how he was making out for himself at Mavros, and just what sort of quarters he’d been given. Maybe he could glean something from the man about what he would need to be for Mavros to choose him. He could adapt, and that, he thought, was probably his biggest strength in this competition. He was not set in his ways, as many other Blooded men might be. He paused before his uncle’s door. He had found out where both of them were staying all the better to avoid them, but here he was. From the outside it looked no different than his own quarters. He knocked, wondering if his uncle would even be inside, or if he was out trying to win over the residents.

kevna

[kevna]

Asirikai - Lord Holder Candidate

His nap had done nothing for his hangover. He had stayed up late the night before drinking with the Senior Fisherman Tullin, trying to discern how he could be of service, and what he needed to do in order to gain more votes. He could hold his liquor pretty well, but when morning came he always regretted it. This one was particularly nasty. Probably because of how many times Tullin had gotten so heated, and Asirikai had had more drinks poured in order to subdue the man.

Next time he would have fruit juice or something. Anything but more liquor. Unless it was a sweet fruit wine. He was a sucker for one of those. Asirikai sat up from his cot, stretching and wincing at the ache in his back. The cot had much to be desired, but he had tried to make due with what he had. He began stretching his neck slowly, so not to exacerbate his headacheand allowed his eyes to study his meager room. He had dressed it up with a nicer desk he had found and a comfy chair one of the fisher’s wives had offered/pleaded for him to take so her husband would stop coming home and sleeping in it, while she tended to the children. He smiled when he remembered how profusely she thanked him for taking it. Other than that, the room was mostly bare. A small plain chair sat by the door, a looking glass sat on one side of the bed and the two chests he had brought with him, with his clothes and other belongings that were more under the characteristic of self-indulgences, sat on the other side of his bed. What was a Lord Holder without them?

Fully stretched, he swore to himself a new cot was in order, and he had begun pulling on his shoes when he heard a knock at the door. Who could that be? He couldn’t imagine anyone at this strange hour of the day, unless it was Nalyra… Coming for a proper welcome to Mavros? The idea wasn't a terrible one. He stood up and tucked in his shirt, making sure it wasn’t too wrinkled from his nap, and quickly put his long hair up in a low bun. He checked himself in the looking glass, and then answered the door. He blinked.

“Hey Pod, what a nice… surprise.” He was a little torn, but finally decided to invite him in. “Won’t you come in?” He grabbed the plain chair and sat it across from the comfy chair. He gestured to the plainer chair for his nephew to sit in, and sat down himself in the nicer chair. I mean, it was his chair anyway, and Asirikai planned on being Lord Holder, so the Lord Holder should get the nicer chair.

“I’m glad you showed up, I was wondering how things are going with you. How are you adjusting to Mavrosi life?” He and Podrell had been to close in age for Pod to call him uncle, but at times like these, he sorely wished he would.

[Zen]

Podrell

He was somewhat surprised when his uncle did answer the door, and mildly annoyed at being called by his nickname. He and Asirikai were hardly close enough for that. It took him a moment but he was shortly invited inside, and he took a quick glance around as Asirikai offered him a seat. He didn’t miss the difference in them either. Closing the door behind him, he took the offered chair. It seemed his uncle’s quarters were about the same as his own, though he couldn’t be sure if the chair he sat himself in had been provided for him or something he’d acquired since his arrival. Podrell didn’t plan to acquire any new possessions at Mavros until he was sure he was staying, which was completely up in the air at the moment. He could manage with the less than ideal conditions until the vote took place. It would be impractical to get too comfortable yet.

He raised a brow curiously as his uncle stated he was glad he had stopped by, instantly on guard. The questions he was asked were of a similar vein to the ones Podrell wanted to ask himself. So they would be feeling each other out a bit. He offered his uncle an easy enough smile, “Well, it is certainly an adjustment, isn’t it?” Both of them were used to luxury, and this was far from it, “It’s quite a wonder they’ve lived like this for so long. Their tenacity is admirable.” Mavros could have been abandoned long ago, the people given up and assimilated back into other Holds, and the dragons gone to other Weyrs, but they were still here, despite the horrid conditions.

“They certainly deserve a proper Lord Holder that can improve upon things,” he crossed his arms over his chest and cast a look about the room again, as if to use it as an example of just what needed improving. “It’s been rather interesting, talking with all the people here,” he wanted to make sure his uncle knew he wasn’t slacking on learning about this place, on working on his relationship with the people he could soon be leading. He’d been focused mostly on the harbor caverns thus far, but he would need to head up to the beasthold soon and start forging connections there as well. And he needed to acquaint himself with Weyr leadership on top of that. He didn’t have much time left before the vote and there was still plenty of work to do. He tossed another friendly smile at his kin, “And you? How are you finding your stay at Mavros? Not missing Cove, are you?” The question held a note of challenge to it as he studied his uncle’s face.

kevna

[kevna]

Asirikai – Lord Holder Candidate

Podrell accepted the seating arrangement easily enough, but he remained on guard. Podrell had always been one to keep things to himself, hard to read, and difficult to trust. Though, he was probably only difficult to trust because they always seemed to be in some sort of competition or other. His response was vague, and finished in a question, to which Asirikai chuckled and nodded. Quite the adjustment. But an exciting one at that. He felt confident that he could sway enough Mavrosi to side with him, and had already made great leeway, especially among the fishermen. The adjustment period would be over soon enough and he would be able to wrangle in a little more comfort. He had jumpstarted the process, because he might as well be prepared for when he took the title. Asirikai would live the lifestyle in order to gain it. His next stop would be getting a double length cot. Especially before he sought out Nalyra and her ships votes. He looked forward to trading favors in order to help eachother.

“Admirable indeed. I’m sure with the right man at the helm their tenacity will drive Mavros into being the most respectable of Holds.” He said rather pointedly, placing his arms on the chair arms and sitting up properly. The proper Lord Holder for Mavros would only be himself, an actual son of a proper Lord Holder. Podrell’s link was further then his own, and therefore Asirikai believed it gave him the upper hand. He was undoubtably interested when the younger man spoke of his networking, his wording almost sounded as if there were quite a few areas he had already covered. The man unconsciously leaned forward, wondering if he’s be able to weasel out of him just who he had reached out to so far… Asirikai himself had been working on the fishing population as they were the larger portion of Mavros, but he realized that he would need to be better about branching out. Top of his priority list was the Weyr, and he would trickle out from there.

The question brought him back to present, and he realizing he had leaned forward repostioned himself to his original pose. He gave a broad smile at the prodding question, and chuckled. “I’m finding it most exciting. The Mavrosi people sure have me enthralled,” He imagined the alluring Nalyra, the challenging Treyjen, and the obnoxious senior fisherman, “Cove is quite a bore when compared. Though I do miss my cot, and a good Benden White every now and then.” He missed a great deal more, but his nephew didn’t need to know that. “But do tell, what is it about Mavros would you change? If you became Lord Holder.” He raised an eyebrow, his smile a bit more doubtful.

[Zen]

Podrell

Watching his uncle’s body language was rather amusing. He was so confident, arrogant even. He had not come right out and stated it but he was still making it very clear that he was quite assured of his win in this competition. Podrell had no lack of self confidence but perhaps he was more of a realist than Asirikai. There were several other men in the running, men he did not know the first thing about. The beauty and the risk in this competition was that they all had an equal opportunity to win out, standing on their own merits. The people of Mavros hardly cared about their Blooded status when it came down to it, that was only to appease the rest of the Pern. They would choose the man that best fit their ideals for a leader, regardless of his heritage. In fact, they could as yet refuse to hand out the title of Lord to anyone and continue voting in their leader at every turn. It would be a detriment to them, Podrell was quite certain, but it was still an option they could take if none of the candidates were to their liking. Nothing was assured for any of them.

He couldn’t help but allow a small laugh in agreement when his uncle spoke of missing his cot back home. The ones they’d been provided left much to be desired. It left his sleep a bit fitful and he tended to wake up less well rested since his arrival. At least he had brought a set of good furs with him, which helped marginally. But the weather was turning colder and the caverns were damp and drafty. It was a wonder the majority of the population was not ill through the winter months. Podrell was hardly used to the cold either. Cove was about as tropical as a Hold could get and his time at the glasscraft Hall in Ista hadn’t given him much variation in temperature either. Though he had on occasion visited other Holds during the winter for various occasions, this would be his first extended stay for anything resembling a true winter, and he did not relish the thought of doing so in such a poorly equipped place.

Asirikai’s doubt was plain, his emphasis on the ‘if’ clear, and Podrell had no inclination to give his uncle any ideas besides those that were readily apparent to anyone with eyes to see them, “Do you really need to ask? There are plenty of obvious issues that require immediate addressing. Even one untrained in Hold management would know where to begin.” He had not learned such things at his grandfather’s side. It had been an independent study that gave him any knowledge in how to run a Hold. His parents had thought it a waste of his time, made it clear he would never inherit, that he should spend his time on more worthwhile endeavors. But a man did not need to be handed everything he wanted and Podrell was ready and willing to chase his desires, to work for it. Any man who thought he would simply be given the Mavrosi Lordship would find himself disappointed come turn’s end. One had to prove themselves, to earn it, and Podrell was of a mind that the majority of the men in the race had never much had to prove anything to anyone. That was where his advantage would lie.

“If I become Lord Holder,” he tossed back at his uncle, because he was not so arrogant as to assume the position was already his, “It will be because I have earned it based upon my own hard work and abilities… and not because my father is a Lord.” His gaze narrowed slightly as he tossed the insinuation of his uncle’s entitlement at him. Let Asirikai go about acting like the Lordship was already his and see just where that got him. Podrell didn’t imagine the people of Mavros taking to such an attitude very well. He couldn’t help poking at it a little more, “Perhaps that’s why Dirinsin has failed twice already? It must be difficult for a Lord’s son to separate himself from his father and realize not everything will be handed to him.”

kevna

[kevna]

Asirikai - Lord Holder Candidate

Podrell was always so composed, careful with his words and facial features. It was one thing that Asirikai believed would be his downfall. The Mavrosi people wanted a human being, someone honest and open. Though charming, Podrell was neither honest nor open from his own experience. He felt his blood start to boil at the derisive brush off from his own question. Of course, he already knew what he would change, he had grown up learning the ins and outs of the Hold, he had had private tutors, he had had hands on experience working with his men. He had had to earn every ounce of respect and knowledge from the men he had worked with. He had had to fight tooth and nail to show his best, and it had never been good enough for his father. Probably wouldn’t ever be good enough for the surly old man.

“Even one untrained in Hold management would know where to begin.”

He couldn’t help himself. Technically, he didn’t have to be polite to Podrell like he did with the other Mavrosi. “Even the son of a glass-smith?” He raised a challenging eyebrow and gave a mocking smile. He didn’t need say anything else to that remark, if Podrell wanted to skirt around the question, it was probably because he didn't know where to start. Asirikai was confident in his own knowledge and skill set. Podrell, while composed as ever seemed to be in quite the mood as he threw insult after insult at him, stoking the fire of his temperament. It seemed maybe the stoic son of a glass-smith was getting a little off-set here at Mavros. He gripped his seat lightly, reminding himself that throwing the first punch was not what a Lord Holder did. It wasn’t. So it couldn’t be an option.

He barked out a dry laugh. “A little touchy there, are we Podrell? Starting to feel the pressure, and maybe not quite up for it? Just because Dirinsin is a fool doesn’t make me or any of my other siblings fools… I would even say your mother isn’t a fool, she always knew that ruling wasn’t supposed to be in your future.” He kept his back rod straight, though how he wanted to lean forward. He strummed the chair’s arms with his fingers, using that as a way of reminding himself to resist balling them into fists. “I wasn’t handed anything other then my natural position of a Lord Holder’s son.” He spoke truth, he had had to fight for every ounce of power his father had resisted to stubbornly to give. He did suspect his mother had helped him a few times, but he had never asked her directly. He liked to think he had won some battles. Including gaining one of his father’s boats to captain.

“Not that I blame you for seeking power higher than your station.” He shrugged, trying to loosen his muscles in the process, he was seeking power higher then his last born-son station wasn’t he? “I just thought you had found your place among your father’s people. What inspired you out here?”

[Zen]

Podrell

Asirikai tossed his father’s station at him as though it was an insult but Podrell only shook his head. He had no shame in his heritage. His father was well respected among the craft, his talent well known. There was nothing to be ashamed of where the man was concerned. Even his grandfather had approved of him enough to let a simple crafter marry his firstborn daughter when he could have used his mother as a political pawn. And perhaps that was something he could use, because he knew there was no love lost between his uncle and his grandfather. His mother had mentioned it on several occasions, though he hadn’t been witness to the relationship between father and youngest son himself. Still, Podrell was pretty confident his own father had a better relationship with his grandfather than his uncle did. He allowed a cold smile to play over his lips, “Indeed. Even the son of a glass-smith a Lord is proud to claim as his son-in-law. Lord Porrinsen isn’t so easy to loosen pride from, is he? Seems to be quite adept at spotting potential, though.” The insinuation was there, that Lord Porrinsen might prefer a man that was not even his blood over his own son. His father was self made. He was no Blooded son. He had risen on his own, impressed Lord Porrinsen, been granted his daughter's hand in marriage with the man's full blessing.

And now Asirikai wanted to bring his mother into the conversation as well? He let out a short laugh, “You seem rather fixated on my parents, Asirikai. They are not the ones here vying for the Mavrosi Lordship, I am. And I am the one that chooses what I make of my life, not them. However if it is my parents you wish to discuss so badly, I can at least say they are both quite proud of me, and supportive of my endeavors, though I understand that may be a difficult concept for you to grasp. My mother is no fool, no… she encouraged practicality. My inheriting Cove’s holdings was a child’s daydream, but Mavros is just as well within reach for me as it is for you, or any other man. There is not one of us that has an advantage due to the circumstances of our birth, no matter how you may think or act like there is.”

He spread his hands, thinking perhaps he had best take his leave soon. He had accomplished what he had come here for, which was to size up his uncle’s quarters mostly, and see if he could glean anything from the man about what he’d been up to so far. But if they were just going to devolve into petty insults then he had better uses for his time. “I welcome the challenge Mavros presents, and though I appreciate your concern, dear uncle, I assure you I am quite capable of handling the pressure.” He knew very well it wasn’t concern, and he had half a mind to stand and excuse himself, but he could only imagine Asirikai would view it as a retreat, a coward running from a conversation he could no longer keep up in. While he had no need to impress his uncle, he was curious if he could get under the man’s skin enough to make him lose his composure. Asirikai’s temper was far easier to rile than his own, and he wondered if he would leave on his own or if his uncle would demand or force him out first.

kevna

[kevna]

Asirikai - Lord Holder Candidate

Asirikai ground his teeth, not missing the implication behind Podrell’s words. Shards, he was making civility near impossible. He doubted his father truly would choose a non-blooded man over his own son if it ever came down to ruling a Hold, but there were times even he doubted the fact. His only confidence in that fact was that his father was a hidebound fool-a traditionalist who believed in the blood. He was distinctly aware of the fact that it had nothing to do with love, or respect, or even potential. “If he had any ability to spot potential, he wouldn’t have sent Dirinsin off, with resources, to be Lord Holder the first time.” He mocked, still angry his father hadn’t sent him in place of his brother. It should have been him. He would have been able to get the Hold up and running in no time, and then he wouldn’t have to deal with this island and his obnoxious nephew.

For the moment his anger had shifted to the crotchety old man that was his father; so many children and so little sense when it came to all of them. He had spoiled the girls, two of them at least, and worked his son’s to the bone. At least Ikarsen had turned out more successful then Dirinsin. It would kill him to see his home Hold fall short because his brother hadn’t been able to rule successfully.

“Well, they are my siblings. I do seem to hold them in higher regard that I do you, so it only seems fair I focus on them instead of you during this conversation. It keeps me a little more polite. I’d say your turns at the Glass Hall have warped your manners and possibly your ability to judge. I never said I had more of a chance then you because of my blood. I like to think I have the skills necessary to do that all on my own. One thing I can thank my father for I suppose.” He had to focus on one finger at a time, though he dared not look at them. All he could think of was his desire to stand up and take the man by his shirt and throw him out. He didn’t think that Podrell would mind, it wasn’t as if their conversation was getting either of them any useful information. Podrell had side-stepped ever single question so far. How did he think he would get anywhere with people without answering questions? Still, what stayed his hand, just barely, was the fact that Podrell could use his anger against him. Especially if someone was passing by when he threw him out. No, better to wait. At least all the insults had been directed at his blood and relatives. That was easier to swallow then… other insults.

He threaded his fingers together, at his nephew’s last confident words. Then why had he come? What had been the man’s goal? It distracted him from his anger, and he narrowed his eyes. “I’m glad you are up to the challenge, I wouldn’t want it to be easy. It’s not nearly as impressive winning when your fellow competitors aren’t up for the competition. I do suppose you could tell me, just one answer from you-if that’s even possible-what drove you here in the first place?”

[Zen]

Podrell

Asirikai’s jealousy was plain as he all but bristled about Dirinsin and his apparent lack of potential. Podrell was more amused by it than anything. It wasn’t as though Asirikai could have done anything at the time. It had all happened before the start of the Pass and both of them had been too young for real responsibility. And now that the Pass had begun, founding new holds was impractical. There would be little venture for expansion until the next Interval, and by then he and his uncle would both be old men. That was why Mavros was so attractive. It had a foundation, shaky as it was… it simply needed a leader to build it up properly. And with the Weyr practically right on top of them, it would only make things easier in Podrell’s estimation.

He laughed at Asirikai’s suggestion that his manners and judgment were lacking due to his time in the crafthall. “If the crafthall dulled my manners, Asirikai, I wonder just what your excuse is,” he was overall too amused by his uncle’s comebacks. He was such a hypocrite. He basically flat out insulted him and then had the gall to call him rude in the same breath? It wasn’t if they both weren’t insulting the other, but Podrell at least didn’t try to act like he was somehow the bigger the man in the situation when they were both displaying the same childish behavior. He sighed lightly. This really was becoming a waste of his time.

He considered side-stepping his uncle’s question once more, purely because it was clearly annoying him that he couldn’t get a straight answer from him on much of anything. But also because it really wasn’t any of his business. He didn’t particularly think it was a question that needed asking, really. His motivations were not really some big secret and were likely little different at heart from any of the other candidates in the race. “Why did any of us come here?” he spread his hands in something of a shrug, passive. The chance at power, to see what he could do, to put all he’d been studying to use and prove he was up to the task despite not having the upbringing, lessons, and opportunities of a Lord’s son. From what he knew of the rest of their competition, he was perhaps the least likely to ever see the title of Lordship passed down to him if he did not win out at Mavros. This was the only chance he would ever have and he was not about to let it pass him by.

He stood then, because was quite done with this fruitless visit. In something of a mockery of his uncle calling out his lack of manners, he bowed with a flourish, “Well it was just lovely to see you, uncle, but I think I have long overstayed my welcome and I’ll not take up any more of your precious time. I’m sure you need every moment you can spare toward your own endeavors. Best of luck to you during the remainder of your stay at Mavros.” Insinuating that he would not be staying much longer. He turned, paused at the door to glance back, “Then again… should I win out, perhaps you’d like to stay on to serve as my steward?” He imagined it would be a warm day Between before Asirikai would ever agree to such a thing, even if the position was important, ranking just beneath the Lord Holder himself. Asirikai would never agree to serve beneath him, of that he was certain. With that parting jab, he left his uncle to his sparse room, glad at least to know that his competition was no more in the lap of luxury than he was.

kevna

[kevna]

Asirikai - Lord Holder Candidate

“If the crafthall dulled my manners, Asirikai, I wonder just what your excuse is.”

He had perfectly fine manners most of the time… It was just family. And stupid people. They got to him so easily. He stiffened, bristling at the insult. The younger man’s obvious amusement had him grinding his teeth. He was giving Podrell ammunition against him by allowing him to rile him up. “Ah, I apologize. It could be the fact that I’ve actually worked alongside the people, actually lead one of my father’s boats. Their language rubs off on me at times.” He said it in a composed tone, unable to muster amusement in his voice. The apology was like eating sand, though his experience gave him the upper hand over Podrell, and he couldn’t help but rub it in. Truly, he didn’t think himself better because of his blooded status. He did believe his merits put him above Podrell, who had spent more time in the Glasscraft hall then working alongside the people and learning his trade. Leading. He supposed that Podrell could use this time on Mavros as part of his journeying, so when he lose he could get back to where he belonged.

He almost didn’t hear the question Podrell asked over his own anger. He was so intent focusing on staying glued to the chair. He instantly heard his response as just another dance around an answer, and it helped clear the anger a bit, assembling the humor he had tried to gather earlier. He gave a harsh chuckled and shook his head. Testament that the younger man didn’t have a straight answer, no matter how easy the question. “Not an answer though is it?”

He watched his nephew stand, and continued to sit, raising an eyebrow. If he stood, he would do so to throw the nit-wit out. He clenched the arms of his chair as the relative wished him luck. He was going to be staying because he would win out over the sly, vague man. He stood with his hands balled into fists as the boy offered the steward position, growling. “I. Think. Not. Don’t expect such a kindness from me. There won’t be a position in my Hold for you.” He stalked after the man and slammed the door closed, furious. He needed to go for a walk. He needed to cool down.

Shards, how could the smug, contemptuous man think he had a chance in Between winning? He was way over his head. He grabbed the chair Podrell had been sitting and threw it against the wall, swearing under his breath. He had to win. Mavros needed him as much as he needed Mavros. His anger wasn’t just aimed at Podrell, but also at himself, because he had lost his composure. Again.