Other than Rhazien and Kaino, Sephiran hadn’t seen his cousin Caedes interact with any of the pack members. Including himself. He’d always been an elusive male, having been locked away in the confines of his grandmother's den to learn about medicines, for most of his childhood. But there was information Sephiran wanted from the male- primarily updates on how things were going back in Saffron - but also, why he’d left Saffron to begin with. And why he wanted to be in The Syndicate.

He’d called for Caedes to join him as he patrolled the border, the duo having just intercepted when Caedes stopped to inspect something of interest. While the man worked, Sephiran peered down at him, the mechanics of his mind warping and churning, as curiosity ate away at its corners. "Caedes.” He begins, rumbling the male’s name.“How was my father, before you left Saffron.”  Straight to the point, no beating around the conversation. Sephiran wanted information.  

"Sephiran Saxe"

Caedes continued his inspection with focused intent, his stoic demeanor unwavering as he meticulously examined the object of interest. What had initially caught his eye was a disturbed bit of soil, and as he pushed aside a bit of foliage he found something quite rewarding growing there, with big white flowers. Sephiran's voice cut through the silence, drawing his attention momentarily as he addressed him directly, emeralds meeting the mismatched ones of his cousin.

"Your father was as expected," Caedes answered in his characteristic low rumble, his tone neutral yet with a hint of curiosity at the abrupt inquiry. He paused briefly, considering his response before replying with measured inflection. He shrugged his satchel off of his shoulders in the meantime as he spoke.

"Good health. Strong. His proclivities remain the same." Caedes replied, his voice devoid of emotion as he recalled his interactions with the former leader of Saffron. "That was seasons ago, however. When I left." He chose his words carefully, revealing little of his own sentiments towards the man whilst also giving a time frame of how removed his knowledge of Sephiran’s father was currently. Sephiran's directness did not surprise Caedes; he had grown accustomed to the blunt nature of his cousin's inquiries.

"speaking"

Caedes would continue to inspect the disturbed soil, pushing the underbrush aside which revealed a herb with big, white flowers. A rewarding find indeed. In truth, if it were Sephiran who’d made the discovery, he would have ignored conversating to ensure he’d harvest the rarity with precision- but Caedes was a multitasker, it seemed. Answering his question while completing his task of harvesting the plant. Sephiran rumbled in acknowledgment- pleased that his father’s condition was relatively the same, despite many seasons having passed since their last encounter.

Tail flicking behind him, musculature tensing beneath his amethyst pelt. Sephiran’s next question was already lingering on the tip of his tongue. When I left. Another rumble of deep baritones filled the air between them, giving insight into the musings occurring in the Sultan’s mind. "And why did you leave." Blunt and straight to the point, he wanted to know why the scarred male left Saffron and approached his band.  

"Sephiran Saxe"

Caedes rummaged within his satchel. Pulling free a cloth and a small crude pot. He began to wrap the cloth around the Jimson Weed, with its trumpet-shaped flowers and large dark-green leaves. With practiced efficiency, he carefully pulled the plant from the ground, his movements fluid and precise as his jaws carefully set it down afterwards to study it for a few moments. While Sephiran's question hung in the air, Caedes continued his task without hesitation, seamlessly multitasking as he addressed his cousin's inquiry.

"Because," Caedes began, his voice steady and composed, betraying little emotion as he spoke. "I had grown stagnant, devoid of the challenges and opportunities I desired. Rotting away like my broken father." His words were measured, revealing little of the internal struggles that had led to his departure, but still a hint of displeasure remained. Caedes paused briefly, allowing the weight of his words to settle before continuing. His emeralds checked the Jimson Weed over for any external parasites, any imperfections before he spoke again. "Your father has no shortage of warriors, or healers." he explained, his tone guarded yet resolute. "I sought a place where my skills could be of use, where I could be of use. To you, Sephiran. To your cause. It was my first thought when Grandmother asked what path I desired to take." His gaze remained fixed on the toxin on the ground, the significance of his decision lingering in the air between them. Caedes awaited Sephiran's response, prepared for whatever further inquiries his cousin might have, ready to answer plainly and without restraint.

"speaking"

Rotting away like his broken father. Sephiran remembered the man all too well- Daedalus, the crazed monstrosity who’d mutilated his own son in the wake of his demonic hallucinations. His grandmother imprisoning him, tending to him like a pet, harboring him inside of a den no one knew how to find. One of the many demented souls Saffron harbored. Sephiran’s mind went back to the day Astrid found Caedes- how she’d carried his mangled body to her den - and the screams - music to the young satanist's ears, as he didn’t know much about Caedes at the time. Only that he was broken.

But that wasn’t the case anymore- he’d matured in Sephiran’s absence, morphing into a formidable foe, should he become one. And for a moment, the persecutory delusions start to seep out from the corners of Sephiran’s demented mind. Has he come to take my throne? His lips start to twitch, giving insight into the rumination in his skull. But Caedes is quick to extinguish that fire- whether it was intentional or not.

A place where his skills could be used - a cause to align himself with. His rationale coincided with most others who’d left Saffron to join him. In truth, Sephiran would be a fool not to jump on this opportunity- a battle-born warrior with near-expert medicinal skills, who believed in the supremacy of the Saxe. “Very well,” He says, nodding his head to Caedes. “For now, you will remain a Ghazi. But as you progress in your studies,” His gaze shifts to the Jimson Weed, then back to Caedes. “You may rise to the calling of Effendi Haakim, or perhaps, Effendi Muqatil.” Both were generous positions in the pack, ones that held higher authority over the Ghazi but were also tasked with more responsibility.  

"Sephiran Saxe"

Caedes maintained his usual stoic demeanor as he observed Sephiran's reaction, his expression revealing little as his cousin's thoughts delved into the past. The tale of Daedalus, the broken healer whose actions had inflicted unimaginable pain upon Caedes in his youth, was a well-known one among their kin. The memories of Caedes's suffering at the hands of his father lingered like a persistent ache, etched into the oldest scars on his worn hide. With a furrowed brow, Caedes tore his gaze away from Sephiran and back to the toxic plant before him. It was an unspoken truth: Caedes had risen above the broken soul that Astrid had once nursed back to health in her den. He had transformed himself into a formidable fighter and a skilled healer, driven by a determination to prove himself more than his own troubled past. Even as his spine tickled with Sephiran's gaze – the other brute’s mind undoubtedly dancing with fleeting shadows of paranoia, Caedes remained resolute, his purpose unwavering.

Returning his focus to the Jimson Weed, Caedes inspected it with meticulous care, ensuring it was free of parasites or withered leaves. Satisfied, he wrapped it back up in the cloth and carefully placed it with his jaws into the clay pot on standby, taking care to protect it from damage. He ensured it would not break, but bend with his method of collection. A moment passed before the brute retrieved a new item from his bag. A small bottle of water, carefully poured a few drops within the pot, dampening the wrapping that kept the Jimson Weed. With precise movements he then fashioned a makeshift lid from a large leaf and a strand of horsetail from his bag to preserve its potency. Hell’s Bells. What a find. The psychoactive herb was a very toxic one too, and he grinned with the knowledge that he had quite the beginnings of a collection of deadly proportions.

As Sephiran acknowledged his reasoning and offered him the opportunity to advance within the pack, Caedes nodded in acknowledgment. "Sephiran," He replied, his voice measured and respectful, albeit detached as usual. "I will earn my place and prove my worth, whether through the shedding of blood or the mastery of my craft." With Sephiran's words echoing in his mind, Caedes meticulously packed up his belongings, his focus unwavering as he completed the task with skillful precision.

"speaking"

While they spoke, Caedes shifted between focusing on the conversation and collecting the rarity at his paws- handling the plant with meticulous care, inspecting it thoroughly for blemishes, inwardly deciding that it was a worthy specimen. Watching the way Caedes worked, sparked an inquisitive realization inside of Sephiran’s mind- just as the male surveyed his specimen, analyzed it, and formulated a purpose for it before deciding its worth - Sephiran’s thought process was similar. With each member of his pack, he'd followed this method - analyzing their weaknesses and strengths, before determining a use for each one. Even his Sidi had a purpose.

Lost in his internal musings, the tip of his tail flicked back and forth, giving insight into the whirlwind of thoughts swarming behind those emerald and amethyst eyes. Sephiran. Oh? Pulling himself from his mind, his attention shifts back to Caedes directly- meeting those pools of acidic emerald, as his gaze narrowed slightly. "“I expect no less.”He’d say, resonating with the importance of the male’s allegiance to their budding kingdom. There would come a day when Sephiran would ask Caedes to risk his life yet again, all in the name of the Saxe empire.

Would he live up to the expectation?

-end-  

"Sephiran Saxe"