Mikado
(#28593948)
Level 25 Imperial
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Energy: 50/50
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
21.25 m
Wingspan
15.94 m
Weight
7138.59 kg
Genetics
Rose
Iridescent
Iridescent
Cottoncandy
Shimmer
Shimmer
Iris
Glimmer
Glimmer
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 25 Imperial
Max Level
STR
11
AGI
11
DEF
11
QCK
11
INT
11
VIT
11
MND
11
Biography
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- M I K A D O - Jewel of Worlds - Dancing innocence, shining eyes, one who embodies the cosmos. - |
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Obtained:
Hatchplace: Name Origin: Original: Goals: Changelog: Myers-Briggs: Sun & Moon: Tarot Card: ██████████ |
Bought from @warriorjames, 11/22/2016. Byzmara Japanese name meaning "emperor" (帝) Iridescent / Shimmer / Glimmer / Imperial --- EFNP Scorpio + Pisces The Emperor (IV) ████████████████████████████████████ |
Gen 2 purebred Imperial. Color Rarity: 1st of colors - 1/7 Gen 2+ - only active - 1/7 total (last checked: 2/19/2023) Common -> Pastel 10/10/2022 23:58 FRT Hit Lv 25 3/5/2024, 22:12 FRT | . |
This was the state the House of Stars was in when Tyrell first arrived. It was an absolutely gorgeous place, but there was a chill in the air no amount of decoration could hide. That same chill was in the Star Lady's eyes as she scrutinized him suspiciously. "So you're the new... nanny my Lord has hired?"
"That is correct, Lady." 'Retainer, madam. The word is retainer,' was what he really wanted to say. He had to endure some rather irritating questions and side comments from the Lady of the House before she even let him see his ward. Then he watched her simper and croon as she adjusted her son's clothes. "You're my pretty boy... Yes you are!"
From a distance, it looked adorable. Tyrell didn't like her tone, though. It was the kind dragons used to cajole their lapdogs.
A final tug on her son's jabot, and then the Star Lady was gone, her talons clicking on the polished floor. After her footsteps receded, Tyrell heard a ripping noise. He turned and saw the hatchling tearing the jabot away from his neck.
"Not too comfy, eh, little boy?" the Tundra inquired. The hatchling blinked warily at him. Suspicious eyes — but also clear, guileless. Not like his philandering, profligate father, or his shallow and superficial mother. 'There's still hope for this young one,' Tyrell thought with a smile.
From that day onward, the two of them were inseparable, though not necessarily because they were fond of each other. The hatchling's name was Mikado, and Tyrell had come to the House of Stars as his retainer: a bodyguard, tutor, and companion. In the years to come, that last role would become increasingly important to Mikado. His parents showed no interest in returning to their political and parental duties, instead becoming as distant as the stars their House was named for.
The House of Stars presided over all things magical in Byzmara: the rules of thaumaturgy, sorcerous artifacts, and the magic-users themselves. For this great service, they received a significant stipend from the High Council. Past House Heads had augmented this with wise investments, plus the occasional confiscated artifacts and judiciously accepted bribes.
With great wealth comes great complacence. The Star Drakes became affluent enough to pay other dragons to do their work for them — with enough left over for personal amusements. This was the path Mikado's father had embraced: Star Lord in name only, a rake rather than a respectable House Head. Mikado's mother was not much better, more concerned with her creature comforts than her reputation. Her mate (official mate, anyway) provided her with an allowance with which to indulge her own vices, and indulge them she did.
Neither of them had any parental interest in their son. Tyrell pitied the boy. Mikado had no siblings, and other servants couldn't be bothered to spend time with him, let alone form an attachment to him. A shame, too — the hatchling was bright, inquisitive, made of sterner stuff than his parents. There were rumors that the bloodline had been blessed by the Lightweaver herself. Given Mikado's parents, it was all too easy to scoff at that, but looking at Mikado himself now, Tyrell could almost believe...
He tested the boy one day. Headstrong Mikado had had an argument with his father and had retreated to his retainer's side. Tyrell, seeing his despondent expression, got an idea: "Would you like to go into the city, Mikado? It's too warm a day to spend indoors — let's get something to drink."
Mikado was suspicious. His parents had forbidden him from leaving the compound, and for all he knew, the city was seething with warlocks and bandits. But he trusted Tyrell and, garbed in nondescript clothes, he followed the Tundra out a side gate. Beyond lay Byzmara in all its majesty and wildness: scents and voices and sensations, all so different, so alive, compared to the star-studded artifice he called home. Tyrell looked encouragingly at him, and he smiled nervously in response.
When they got home later, Tyrell asked how he'd liked the world outside. Mikado, a bowl of shaved ice and syrup in his paws, quietly answered, "It was interesting... I would like to visit again sometime."
'Before you become a part of the world, you must first be interested in it.'
Tyrell broke into a smile.
Mikado learned many things from Tyrell. It seemed that the Tundra knew everything: etiquette, economics, literature...
And that was just scratching the surface. When the House Heads were gone and there were no nosy servants about, Tyrell would put away the papers and books. Mikado could then expect to learn things his parents considered frivolous. For them, it was enough that their son knew Byzmara's history and ways; anything else beyond that wasn't worth Mikado's time. Tyrell disagreed, and from him, Mikado heard stories that his parents would've scoffed at: myths and legends, for example, or the history of places outside Byzmara's walls.
"There are bigger cities than Byzmara?"
"There certainly are, Mikado. The world is very big, and we are very, very small."
That was the core of Tyrell's "extra" lessons: for Mikado to know that was more to the world than just finery and clout. To understand, to be aware. Tyrell had been hired to mold the Heir of Stars into a competent leader, and that he would do — even if it meant bending the rules the House Heads had given him.
Mikado was no fool; he knew there was a reason for all the secrecy. "Mother says going out into the city is nonsense," he informed Tyrell one day.
"Did she really tell you that?"
Mikado nodded, but he couldn't quite meet Tyrell's gaze. Tyrell could understand why. The Lady of Stars talked over, around, and behind her son — but never to him. She had likely just mentioned something offhand while Mikado had happened to be around.
And then the youngster added, "Father agrees with her."
"I don't pretend to know your father very well," Tyrell admitted, though he supposed he actually knew the type, "but I gather that he received the same education when he was a child. He must believe that if it was good enough for him, it's good enough for you, too."
Tyrell hadn't meant it disparagingly, but Mikado had heard that phrase before, used in a decidedly negative way: "good enough." Funny how "good" and "enough", taken singly, generally meant that someone was satisfied, but together, they meant "barely adequate."
"I suppose you're good enough," his father said later on. The elder Imperial paced impatiently around the room, his jewels jingling loudly, annoyingly — like treasure being tossed away. "You're no longer so mollycoddled, and Tyrell tells me you are excelling in your studies. You actually show promise."
He seemed surprised. Mikado couldn't help thinking, 'Of course you'd be surprised; you hardly ever care to know what I'm doing.' Aloud, he responded, "Tyrell is perhaps generous in his praise, but I thank you, Father."
"And you've learned manners, too. Well, child, I suppose you're ready to assume the mantle of lordship now."
"Become the Lord of Stars, you mean?" Mikado stared. He would have laughed, but his father's face... He was dead serious.
"Indeed. Why so apprehensive, boy?" So the old drake had seen through him after all. "Didn't I say just now that you've been doing well? You seem to disagree — very much." His eyes narrowed. "Perhaps Tyrell isn't as effective a retainer as I think he is. I shall have to send for someone else — someone to put more backbone into you."
"Tyrell is doing a perfectly good job," Mikado snapped — he couldn't help it. He had never talked back to his parents before. But now...
"What I said earlier was clarification, not hesitation, Father. If you think I am good enough," and Mikado lifted his chin, "then I will assume leadership of the House of Stars."
His father snorted and patted him indulgently on the head. Mikado had to grit his teeth. Good enough? He'd seen the backlash "good enough" could generate, had borne the brunt of it himself.
All of Tyrell's extra lessons? The visits to Byzmara, learning about lands he would never see, stories and legends and musty old myths? He hadn't reported them, because that was what good kids did. Good enough kids. Instead, he had taken them on willingly, even challenged his tutor to give him more, because his father's "good enough" regimen hadn't been good enough for him. Oh, no...
He wanted to be better than that.
There were mixed reactions when the new Lord of Stars made his debut. Many dragons bemoaned this as further proof of the bloodline's degradation: "First that shameless debaucher, and now his snivelling brat?" Still others were optimistic, for all the wrong reasons: They practically drooled at the prospect of manipulating this impressionable, inexperienced youngster.
Mikado was no fool, though — and even if he were, he still had Tyrell to guide him. Underneath the fluff and warmth, Tyrell was a very capable retainer indeed: tutor, companion, and bodyguard.
He always accompanied his young charge to meetings with other Council members. All the other Councillors had retainers and servants of their own, so Tyrell's presence was not unusual. It deprived them of chances to influence Mikado, though, so he was not well-liked. Neither was the Star Lord, it had to be said.
"Oops." A sumptuously dressed Spiral "accidentally" collided with Mikado as they made their way to the meeting hall. He looped around to leer at the hatchling. "Pardon me, young one. I didn't notice you. Too many important matters on my mind, I suppose."
"You're no trouble at all, Elder," Mikado called out after him. But once the Councillor was out of sight, he muttered, "You smarmy piece of overdressed garbage."
"Milord. Let's be polite," Tyrell chided. The young Lord turned, frustration plainly etched on his face. "I don't like this, Tyrell. It's boring and they're all absolute trash."
"Aren't you above that, my Lord?" Tyrell asked mildly. Now that Mikado was a House Head, the modes of address had changed. The relationship hadn't, though — not much.
"True. But really, who wants to spend their time surrounded by heaps of trash?"
Tyrell could only laugh at that. "Temper, young Master," he murmured. By the time they entered the meeting hall, Mikado's face was cool and composed once more.
The young Lord went to his podium, and Tyrell stood at his side. He was far and away the youngest member of the Council, which was why some dragons resented his presence. But he stood straight, unafraid and unbowed.
He had much yet to learn, many lessons still in store: higher magic, for example, or how to navigate the conundrum they called Byzmara. How to protect himself, to recognize friends and shield himself from foes...
In time, he would be able to exert influence over his corner of the world. But before that, he had to become a part of it, had to claim his place in it. Not be good enough, not necessarily better than his father.
He had to be worthy of it.
--- Written by @Disillusionist, edits by @After
Chibi by @Keorano
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