He doesn't expect @Alaric to come to him. Not after he'd been seen fraternizing with a known enemy of the Miroslav; he doesn't believe for one moment that the man is ignorant to the weight of his choices. Much like Seneca, he seems the sort to weigh out every potential outcome, and select the one that will most benefit himself. While he doesn't doubt that Alaric has done this here, he has made a vital flaw in his calculations. Seneca maintains his composure as he approaches the Ecrosian borders, halting just shy of the marker with his skull lofted high. Whilst he is ordinarily nocturnal by primary nature, he's selected the day to make this visit, preferring the sunlight flickering through the treetops rather than the potential to be caught off-guard by ne'er-do-wells lurking in the shadows. His chuffs for Alaric are curt, and then he waits, a storm only just contained.

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Perhaps, if Seneca had been more patient, Alaric would have come. But really, who am I kidding — we all know he would have avoided the man for as long as possible. It wasn’t for fear or any such weak emotions, only that he lacked the political mind to navigate the situation he had created.

Alaric was not a stupid man, he knew of Seneca’s involvement with the Sigrun and the alliance between the prides. He could not have been Gentry for as long as he had without being at least somewhat aware of the connections there, just as he was aware of the rivalry with the bluffs.

Knowing what he knew of the age-old rivalry between Sigrun and Rike, though, the wheat king still felt as though he had made the right decision. So he does not hesitant to answer Seneca’s call, moving to the border and leaving his pregnant wife behind. A wry twist of his lips as he took note of the mottled andal king — “welcome to my humble home,” — and a sweep of his paw. A low chuckle, too, for surely they both saw that the mire wasn’t exactly…. tidy.

THE THUNDER OF THE DRUMS

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He doesn't expect to be kept waiting long, and he isn't. The moment that wheat lion comes into view, Seneca's gaze snaps onto him, and he does not mimic the smirk that flashes across Alaric's lips. He can try simpering his way out of the Andal king's irritation all he likes, but they both know that Seneca is not here to play nice, and he's never been much good at pretending. He ignores the casual greeting, the chuckle; the stoic, deadpan lines of his face don't change, and his stare doesn't waver from where it's locked to the acidic green of Alaric's. "Explain the Rike bitch to me," he says instead, his voice low and cool, cutting through the afternoon air like a knife. He won't waste his time with pleasantries; he wants an explanation for what he can only see as a betrayal.

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This land was full of the uptight and sensitive, and Alaric had a hard time wrapping his mind around it some days. He had learned already of the intricate alliances woven throughout amaryllis, along with the feuds that went with them. Or at least this one.

Seneca is decidedly angry. Alarics expression does not change, though again he feels some confusion at it all. Seneca was pissed because Alaric had taken an enemy of his ally as a wife? Perhaps children muddled things a little… and thinking of that made him wonder if this man knew the full truth.

“My wife,” a touch of firmness to his voice, though he isn’t so easily offended. A shrug, then, “seemed like the right side to be on when I learned what the Sigrun do with all their children.” testing the waters, one toe at a time.

THE THUNDER OF THE DRUMS

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"Your wife," he echoes softly, and the low, quiet pitch of his voice is perhaps even more worrisome than the sharp tone he'd been using just a moment before. Seneca's claws grind against the damp moss of the forest floor, his nostrils mildly flared and eyes narrowing as @Alaric goes on to try and justify his choice. Seneca isn't certain what the other man is playing at, but he can guess that it won't be anything he wants to hear. "Their children are fine," he states dismissively, feeling as though Alaric is trying to play some kind of game with him, to distract him from the reality of the side he has chosen in this feud. "Your wife's family killed my daughter, Alaric." This part of himself, Seneca has kept private until now — but the Ecrosian king would do well to note that his hatred is not just due to his alliance, but to his own loss. Whether under his roof or Saga's, whatever name she might have held, Solvi was his blood, and Seneca is not a forgiving man.

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There is a shift in the air as the tension between the two men ramps up, Alaric eying Seneca with some level of caution. It was dangerous ground he navigated with a mix of emotions he did not particularly care for. The Mire king respected the one of the oasis, and in the desert he had friends and allies alike.

Clearly, though, the Sigrun are not so forthcoming with their ways, not even to the man who had children with one. It is not necessarily his truth to share, but Alaric is a selfish man and if it will shift the ire from him even a little… “not all of them.” There is a touch of earnestness to his tone, a seriousness that indicates he is not only trying to save his own hide.

Of course Seneca drops a bombshell, then, and his brow furrows at the new information. “I am sorry for your loss, Seneca, but it was not my wife.” surely Erna would have told him that, right? “What do you know of the feud between the families?”

THE THUNDER OF THE DRUMS

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There is a subtle curl of his lips, a flash of teeth; @Alaric's attempt to absolve the woman of guilt does little to stow Seneca's rising anger. "You aren't stupid," he levels, his narrowed gaze settled firmly upon the emerald of his former friend's eyes. What they are now is yet to be determined, but he will be hard pressed to change his mind now. "Don't pretend it wouldn't have been her if she'd had the opportunity." Her, or another — it doesn't really matter; the Rike have proven themselves to have no sense of a boundary line, and Seneca doesn't believe for one moment that Erna is the exception. "The Rike have been hunting the Sigrún for generations. They followed them here." It doesn't particularly matter to him what the initial cause was; despite his vastly different outlook on gods and the godless, they have proven to be steadfast and worthy allies, and Seneca has no intention of squandering that now. It would be a foolhardy move to turn his back on them — to pick the wrong ally, as Alaric has done.

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"No, you're right," he admitted this without a lot of hesitation, knowing full well there was no good in trying to make his wife seem innocent. Though Alaric did not know of any lives she had ended he did not doubt that she would not try to snuff out any Sigrun life she could. It was the very reason he would seek to leash her in the coming days, forcing her to chill out for the good of his pride and his children. For now, at least.

"The Rike and the Sigrun have been hunting eachother for generations," he corrected, but with a notable lack of arrogance or rudeness. It was fact (in his mind, at least) and he offered it with an almost nonchalant manner. There was little he could do to sway Seneca, he knew, but he would give him the information that he himself had.

There was a pause, and then he dropped all pretenses. "The Rike and the Sigrun have a lengthy history, but do you know why the Rike hate them so much?" He was genuinely curious if the Oasis monarch had this information, especially considering he had had children with one of them.

THE THUNDER OF THE DRUMS

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Seneca is irritable, but he is not a fool; though his frustration simmers beneath the surface, he is willing enough to let @Alaric plead his case. It may lead nowhere, it may end in the full fracture of their friendship, but he would prefer to make an educated decision, rather than one of blind anger. He knows, in many ways, that Alaric shares these mannerisms — and it is a large part of why they've always gotten along. Until now. A low sigh rumbles from his jaws, well aware that the Mire sovereign is going to get his two cents in about this feud whether he likes it or not. "Go on then," he says dryly, a confirmation that he does not know the Rikes' side of the story, "enlighten me." If it's so important that he knows what started this war, then he'll humor Alaric that much.

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It does not feel like much of a win, nor does he feel like he will change much by sharing the information that he has. Alaric has long ago decided that he does not care if it is not his place to share -- he will tell them all about the truth of the Sigrun practices and perhaps they will not have quite so many allies. The ocean-side family is a beast that he wishes to see fall, or at least be knocked down to a more manageable size.

He heaves his own sigh. "I don't think any of the current generation know why it began, though I'm sure they all have their version of events. All I know is the source of the hatred. You've heard of their Vellen, I'm sure?" He gauged the reaction of the Oasis monarch, and then decided it didn't matter much and pressed on. "Some ocean deity they worship. An ocean god that demands they drown their children to prove their fealty."

How and why they did not all die was beyond him -- though he was of half a mind to believe that the adults must rescue them from the sea. He watch the King to see what he thought of that, recognizing that both sides had done wrong, but was one so much more evil than the other?

THE THUNDER OF THE DRUMS

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