Arathion

Prince Arathion of Cothique is the father of Tyrion and Teclis. It was his life's work to restore his ancestor Aenarion's Dragon Armour, into which he had spent nearly his entire, not-considerable fortune, as well as a lifetime of scholarship and energy. Arathion had inherited it from his father before him, and so on back to the mists of time. Family lore had it that the armour had been presented to his ancestor Amarion, by Tethlis himself, as a reward for saving the life of his son. Since then, the armour has been the family's most precious heirloom.

For many years, his best efforts had proven fruitless. There was always just one more thing needed, one more piece of rare metal, one more fabulous rune to be re-discovered and re-inscribed, one more spell to re-woven. Many times he could be heard claiming that this was it, this time he would succeed, and he always came out disappointed.

By XI 10, Arathion had become frail. His hair was fine as spun silver and white as the snow on the peak of Mount Starbrow. A mesh of wrinkles spun out from his eyes to cover most of his face. The purple veins stood out thinly on his hands. A life of failure had aged him prematurely, even though Arathion was only a few centuries old. It was only when Korhein Ironglaive and Lady Malene arrived that Arathion's sons ever saw their father genuinely smile, much less laugh. In all the years of childhood, the twins could not recall their father showing affection for anything or anyone, including his sons.

Arathion's Villa
Since the death of his wife, Alysia, few people visit Arathion's home, high up in the Cothique mountains. Those that still do are mostly passing hunters, dropping off part of their kill as a tithe for hunting on his lands. One or two highland villagers might also come to consult Arathion about a sickness in their family or on some minor matter of magic or scholarship.

Things had been different when Alysia was still alive. The house had been busy then, when she and Arathion arrived to occupy it for a summer season or two, escaping from the heat of the lowlands. Sorcerers and scholars from all across Ulthuan would come to visit the hilltop villa along with Alysia's rich relatives. People had liked Alysia and were prepared to travel to even this remote place to visit her.

By the time of XI 10, Arathion's villa is a shadow of what it once was. A thin lip of wall surrounds it, twenty feet tall on the inside, but even steeper on the outside, where the rock-strewn ground sloped away downhill. The courtyard where the front gate is also has a great bell with which visitors ring.

Stables
Though none of the locals save Arathion can afford a horse, stables reside behind the wall, albeit with a large hole in the slates of its roof, where a support beam could catch anyone that entered through. Tyrion enjoyed running along the beam, grabbing rope he always left knotted around the edge so he could jump. The long swing to the ground, the dizzying sense of speed as he careened downward, letting go so he might roll into the bales of hay, it always made him smile. The dusty, musty smell of the old building mingles with the warm animal scent of Arathion's horse.

Workshop
On the second floor, Arathion spends most of his time over his workbench, which even included a magnascope and a spyglass. A massive library of books and scrolls, so beloved by his son Teclis, surrounded the room. Jars full of pickled monster heads, and odd chemicals and weird plants from the jungles of Lustria and the rainforests east of Far Cathay. But of all the wonders found within, it was the gigantic suit of armour standing on its wireframe in the corner, that dominated the room. It was discoloured around the chest and arms where Arathion had repaired the ancient damaged metalwork with his own hands. In those places the armour did not have the patina of age it had elsewhere.

Teclis' Room
The room that once belonged to Teclis was dominated by a great fourposter bed, covered in piles of threadbare patched blankets. Said-room was so shadowy that it was impossible to see how moth-eaten the bed's canopy was and how old and rickety the furnishings were. A chipped table rests beside the bed. The drapes of the windows are fusty and smell of mould. Cold air whistles in through gaps in the shutters, despite the torn shreds of sacking Tyrion would stuff into the gaps. Truly, there was no place in the villa where young Teclis could escape the cold that seemed to leech all vitality from him.

Trivia

 * Arathion believes that observations have to be tested and justified. It was part of his method of scholarship. "Not just book learning" were his watchwords. Something he tried to make habitual with his twin sons.

Source

 * : Blood of Aenarion (novel) by William King
 * : Chapter 1

[[Category:A]]