Saris [ An Envoy ]

  • “We need someone they will trust.” Saris was not sure why his sister thought the Council would trust him. “Because you are kind, and good, despite all of this, and will continue to be kind and good despite everything.”
  • Manish Dayal
    Name Saris
    Age Early 20’s
    Appearance There is something very wholesome and clean about Saris that makes people trust him a little too willingly. Here I am! His clean shaven and earnest face seems to say. I am here to help, and to be good, and– what more could you really want in an envoy?
    The sneaky and entirely unwholesome Matriarch adores and coddles her younger brother for precisely this reason. Because despite everything they have done during the Death Court wars, despite the blood on their hands, Saris has managed to keep his wholesome and entirely lily clean image.
    Tall, dusky skin and innocent brown eyes that always seem to be sparkling with good humor, Saris is clean shaven, with neatly cropped hair and neatly pressed suits that never seem to have an annoying wrinkle or stain.
    Personality While Saris is sweet, he is not quite as innocent or as naive as people believe him to be (how can he be, with a sister like the Matriarch and a family that lives in the gray?). He is unfailingly polite however, and considerate of others. Which is more than you can say for the other representatives.
    Ability Saris is human.
    Representing the Family at the Checkerboard Ball

    The Envoy to the Council

    • Saris was not sure how the Family had decided he would represent them to the Council.
    • It could have been a Worse Idea: he knew some of his brothers were looking to break the detente, to air grievances and demand recompense from the leaders of the Vella Crean. They were traders, traders who had ended up on world locked from within, unable to communicate with the rest of the Nexus.
    • Some warning would have been nice.
    • But Saris had sisters too, beautiful, eloquent, delicate women who would fit in at the council, twittering little birds around the Empress able to slip in a sly word here and there.
    • “They will not do for us, brother.” The Matriarch knew everything, he thought. She knew of his private misgivings and answered him as if he had given them voice. “We do not little silly little playthings to decorate the council, or spys- because the Steward’s son is more than willing to share news.” a small, private little smile. Saris sometimes wondered what the Matriarch saw in the sly little boy, the one with the greedy eyes who spoke of power and ambition.
    • “We need someone they will trust.” Saris was not sure why his sister thought the Council would trust him. “Because you are kind, and good, despite all of this, and will continue to be kind and good despite everything.”
    • Sometimes, Saris thought his sister gave him too much credit. But that was how the middle son of the Family found himself with his bags packed, heading towards the Council’s quarters.
    • Immediately, Saris decided that this place might not be too bad. The Empress was a kind if troublesome little woman, spry and always looking for excitement and adventure: he found himself pulled into many a hide and seek game: the Empress hiding from her cleric, and the rest of the staff on the run to find her before the grandmother hurt herself.
    • The Steward with his cool eyes and his daughter with colder eyes: Saris could not fault them in their suspicion. He was a stranger, even worse, he was part of the Family. A dominant trader clan that had somehow managed to grow their influence during the Death Court wars.
    • “How does your sister do it?” Nalia would ask him in the quiet and the dark, and he would shrug, because he truly did not know.
    • “She has her ways” he would answer.
    • Saris found himself occupied and busy as the Vella Crean opened itself up to the rest of the Nexus. Representing the family, giving insight and input into new opportunities and trade routes. Families in a flurry seeking to leave their world and find one that was safer, stable: without Death Court dragons and their blue fire. Others looking for a way in, a foot in the door.
    • The Vella Crean was back, and every so often, Saris found himself giving advice, handling paperwork for trade agreements, and keeping an eye out on the supply and demand of all things.
    • The Matriarch was not surprised when Saris did not share news: no, they had Navir to do that for them. Little hints, tips, trade regulations that would work in their favor and against. Saris was too good, too honest to cheat the Council or to give his Family an added advantage. So the Matriarch did not fault him in this.
    • The Council noticed. The Steward especially, noticed, and some of the chill in his demeanour eased.
    • “Do you have formal clothing?” the question surprised Saris, because he always wore what he thought was acceptable.
    • “Am I underdressed for my duties?” he asked.
    • The Steward frowned. Shook his head. “For events, functions.”
    • Samris did not understand. Did they need help? “I’m sure I could find spare uniform somewhere.”
    • Nalia found the exchange funny and delightful. “He is inviting you to attend a function with us, Saris.” she explained on her father’s behalf. “We are going to the Checkerboard Ball, and you will enjoy it.”
    • Saris did not have “formal formal” wear, but in the middle of the night, two large black boxes found their way to his quarters, with suits and bespoke shirts tailored to his form.
    • Congratulations, you’re in
    • Saris knew the bold handwriting, and knew that maybe something was going to change. The council had accepted him as one of their own, and somehow, his sister knew.