The ride from the Kremlin was a mere five or so minutes. The vehicle pulled to the front unhindered just as it had rolled unimpeded by traffic from the adjoining Kremlin district. Such diversions were a common sight in the government district. When central police barricaded a road, it only meant one thing: that the black limousine bearing the flags of the Double Crescent was soon to pass.

The restaurant Turandot was opened on Tverskaya Boulevard in December 2031, immediately becoming fashionable as one of the main gastronomic and architectural attractions of Moscow. Turandot was as culturally popular as the Kremlin, the Bolshoi Theatre and St. Basil’s Cathedral. 

The large, two-storied building, hiding behind the walls of a mansion was constructed over six years to a cost of 20 million dollars. It was built on the fantasy of the luxurious dining hall of medieval European palaces and upon its opening, became one of the most gorgeous restaurants in Moscow, and by extension, the world.

Turandot was a feather in the cap of the prestigious and powerful Stoya family, one of Moscow’s great mafia families. Their ownership never hindered the restaurant’s popularity, but in fact might have bolstered its infamy. It was a common place to glimpse oligarchs and bureaucrats, for instance.

Nikolai emerged with Barrier Preator Agents already waiting for his arrival. He trusted others were inside and more surrounded unseen. He hadn’t actually glimpsed Alric today, but the man was always close when Nikolai left the confines of his fortress home. As soon as he did, he paused to greet the pedestrians held back from his passage. There were gasps and excited angling of Wallets. Video rolled and people waved him over. He stopped for a few selfies under the watchful eyes of the Barriers, shook hands and smiled.

Soon he entered Turandot, mood lifted as sure as if the people hefted him upon their shoulders. This was Myshelov’s favorite restaurant, and from time to time, Nikolai agreed to meet the Patron of Moscow there. Not only was it good to be seen out and about, but the Stoya’s benefited as well. Sure to that, Mr. Stoya himself greeted him with a handshake and shared words of appreciation for his return. Nikolai’s presence only extended his favoring of the family, which quietly suggested that they remained in his, and the government’s, good graces. They would continue to exert their power and keep their domain under control in the city, and so round and around the relationship went. As it did with all the families of the new aristocracy.

The main hall was two stories high, and there were round tables in the lower atrium surrounded by several luxury booths for privacy. It was beautifully furnished with magnificent crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling of the dome, making the environment even more romantic and otherworldly.

He passed through the restaurant to many a turning head, nodding face, or smiling woman. Myshelov was already waiting at his preferred table: second level beneath the rotunda, center to the back. The entire floor was vacant of restauranteurs, for respect of the privacy of their conversation but also for reasons of practicality. Barrier Preator agents took up guardianship at the exits. More were in the kitchen, overseeing the preparation of the meal to come.

“Myshelov.” He greeted the aging man with a handshake.

“Ascendancy. You look well. Then again, you always do.” He bowed his head with a smirk as they both sat.

A server poured their drinks and presented menus, which were given proper attention. Myshelov ordered the same thing as always. Nikolai rarely indulged in alcohol, but Myshelov was one of the special few with whom he imbibed. He never acquired the taste for straight vodka, having at least preferred to mix it with tonic, but there was an unspoken understanding between him and the people of the world he came to dominate. The first time he met the man was over vodka in Minsk, and the tradition was maintained these decades later. He sipped the drink out of respect for that tradition but was grateful that behind the scenes the high-proof was secretly been diluted.

They toasted to the clinking sound of crystal glasses and got to business.

“How fares Moscow?” He asked as he folded the napkin across his lap.

“Your city is well, Nikolai.” Myshelov began. He always called it that, a description that Nikolai long endorsed, and they both understood. “How fares the world?” He asked in sly response. 

Nik suppressed what he truly thought but shared as much in a glance. Myshelov was aware of more than most, and he could read between the headlines.

Nikolai redirected. “Your son? Well I hope. I see he makes as many headlines as ever.” He liked to keep abreast of the personal lives of those in his employ, whether they be the staffers of the Executive Office of the Ascendancy or the offspring of the Custody’s patrons. It wasn’t with overwhelming warmth that he inquired, but he knew such things were important to those around him. It was with such personal touches that his benevolence grew to near cult-like allegiance by nearly all who met him.

They spent the first course discussing much of the administrative updates that Myshelov would have otherwise shared more traditionally, but what Nikolai could not discern from official reports, he gleaned from the man’s opinion via the animated expressions with which he shared them. Finally, by the time the main course was served, Myshelov had some disappointing news to share.

“There was an incident you should know about.” Myshelov was rarely grim, but there was weight to his words. Nikolai nodded that he continue, knowing their surroundings were secure. “Mr. James revealed himself.”

“To whom?” Nikolai asked, calmly taking a sip of his coffee.

“Two of Konstantin Vasilev’s children and Scion Marveet’s oldest.”

He wasn’t sure which was the more disappointing. Konstantin, who had no marks against him, was loyal and effective, or Scion, whose offspring already proved to be the opposite. Regardless, Myshelov would know the score. It was the Patron who brokered Jensen's dalliance with the city's powerful. “Wasn’t there a man assigned to Mr. James? Tasked to make sure that did not happen? To keep him safe?”

“He’s been handled.” The explanation was enough, Nik waved away details he didn't care to hear.

“And what is your recommendation? Can we trust them to discretion?” Nikolai leaned back in his seat, contemplating the situation.

“With the right leverage, but there are some things only the Ascendancy can manage.” Myshelov wiped his mouth down, holding his gaze as courageously as ever. He was astonishingly effective at what he did, including the oversight of the oligarchs and crime lords of the Dominance, but he was right.

There was a time when Nikolai first won the Presidency that it took a great deal more effort than simply walking around to effect leverage. Many years of dedicated work led to this day. “When?”

“Konstantin and Edita are throwing their anniversary party. Your attendance will shore up the family a great deal, and with all your efforts focused on claiming new Dominances, walking among your own people will be a good reminder of who exactly rules in Moscow.” Myshelov fixed him with a sly look that Nikolai was never quite sure if it was humor or pride.

“It’s advice I will take, Myshelov. We’ll make sure Mr. James attends as well. We don’t know if the children revealed this secret to their parents, but I’ll speak with Scion and Konstantin if I must. I’d rather it not come to that, but I want them to know that they are being watched, and that my eye can be a blessing or a curse. I think they will agree which is the better for us all. You’ll be there as well, I assume? Please make sure to bring your son, also.”

Their dinner concluded soon after, but Nikolai, with Myshelov at his back, tarried a while to meander through the restaurant, shaking hands and greeting familiar faces as they passed.

Zixin set up his offices in a legitimate building, but he truly worked when and where ever he wanted. And what work it was. He heard from all five of the Russian mafia families to date, and each owed him a debt of some kind. Halting humiliation. Restoring strength. Unveiling truth. Revealing secrets. Unmasking enemies.

But out of all the thrilling high-wire acts he performed, tugging at the strings of the Vasilev family was the ultimate thrill. It was like walking a tightrope suspended over a pit of rabid wolves, but Zixin wouldn't have it any other way. He played his cards just right, leaving wedges so deep that you could practically hear the fiery snaps as he asserted his dominance. He practically pressed his polished shoe on the self-righteous Pavel Vasilev's neck, but he held back from crushing it. Why? Because he could. And Pavel knew it.

Zixin lived for the danger, although not so much that he wanted to experience the full-scale smiting of the Russian retaliation. So, he walked the fine line, keeping his wits sharp at all times. His work in this world was far from finished.

Just then, a message blinked to life on one of his screens.
“He’s here.” It read.

Zixin ordered the man himself to be sent in, and meanwhile went about the process of minimizing all his open screens. There was no way in hell he was going to allow this kid to glimpse a single google search, let alone the myriad profiles and accounts on view.

As the door creaked open, Zixin gave the newcomer a nod of approval. The ‘man’ before him was more like a boy, really.

With a sly grin, Zixin tossed him an envelope filled with cash. "Well done, Haruto."

Caught off guard by the unexpected toss, Haruto quickly regained his composure and checked the envelope's contents.

"Thanks, Mr. Kao," he replied, tucking it into his jacket pocket. He then stood at attention, ready for his next marching orders.

To which Zixin happily obliged.

Daniil Myshelovich Tarasovich, the offspring of the inscrutable Myshelov Tarasovich, Patron of Dominance I, was born into a world of intricacies and cunning. Inheriting his father’s sharp intellect and charm, Daniil embarked on a path that, while distinct from his father’s, held the same undercurrent of calculated and cutthroat determination.

From an early age, Daniil, or Danya for short, exhibited a remarkable aptitude for understanding the complexities of human nature. Observing his father’s shrewd dealings with both allies and adversaries, he absorbed the lessons of diplomacy and persuasion with a discerning eye. Unlike Myshelov’s unyielding pursuit of power and order, Daniil possessed a different kind of ambition – one that thrived in the shadows of Moscow’s legal labyrinth.

From a young age, Daniil displayed an insatiable thirst for the spotlight, an unquenchable desire for prestige, and a penchant for controlling narratives. Observing his father’s shrewd dealings with allies and adversaries alike, he understood that true power lay not only in acquiring it but also in the artful wielding of influence. In contrast to his father’s political disposition, Daniil chose the path of a criminal defense lawyer. He saw the legal system as an intricate web, where manipulation and persuasion were the keys to success. With a penchant for exploiting legal loopholes and an uncanny ability to read people, Daniil became a formidable advocate.

Unlike Myshelov, whose pursuit of power and order was unyielding, Daniil craved the adulation that came with acquittals and the control he could exert over public perception. He saw the courtroom as a stage where he could manipulate emotions, bend the truth, and orchestrate legal symphonies to his own advantage.

Daniil understood that the courts were a stage where decorum and strategy played vital roles and where charisma and strategy reigned supreme. He approached each case with the same meticulous attention to detail that Myshelov applied to his political maneuvers.

Beneath Daniil’s affable facade lay a mind that never missed a beat and a heart devoid of empathy for those who stood in his way. He understood that to win, he needed to be both the puppeteer and the puppet master. He wove intricate webs of deceit with ease, pulling strings behind the scenes to control outcomes and manipulate perceptions. He was a master at shaping narratives and bending the truth to his advantage, ensuring that acquittals were not just legal victories but also public spectacles featuring himself at the forefront.

His reputation as a charming yet ruthless advocate earned him both admiration and fear in equal measure. Daniil’s clients included organized crime members, corrupt politicians, government accusations, and violent criminals alike. It was he who was responsible for the imprisonment of Alistair Grey, terrorist and traitor.

As the Tarasoviches had once held power in pre-ASU Belarus, Daniil’s journey echoed his family’s legacy in a different way. He wielded the power of the law and all the prestige and attention he commands. His father’s alliance with the Ascendancy had shaped their family’s destiny, and Daniil, in his own way, continues to navigate the intricate dance of power and influence in Moscow’s legal realm.

Appearance

Daniil mesmerizes with high-fashion cheekbones, dolphin pools for eyes, the petals of the mouth, and the sculpted neck. The accumulative vibe is faux-infantile alien, soothingly sinister, tough and ethereal with a technical exactitude as sharp as his physique.

That is Daniil on the floor; he checkmates every opponent he faces. Daniil is a beautiful bird, a fine-featured horrorshow, a plutonic skeleton with bones of wind. His midnight sun, having no alternative, dazzles.

Other lives

2nd Age – Durrick Ladei Chamora, Forsaken

3rd Age – Bel’rik, Caster of Nets, Forsaken

6th Age – Thanatos, Greek God of Death

Here be spoilers...

































Finally some wolves! Hopper was so cute. I like their interpretation of wolfspeak. Anvaere owning Moiraine at her own game was great. She mentioned a son marrying the Cairhien queen which I assume will be important down the line (and is also presumably the reason they have given Cairhien a queen not a king). I wondered if maybe they were just changing up Galad's relations, but on the casting leaks Galad is described as a Trakand not a Damodred. Though maybe that's misdirection and simply indicates that Galad and Gawyn's roles have been merged some. I could see Moiraine's nephew being "Galad Damodred" but actually being a Gawyn character storyline (no brother for Elayne), and Dain taking on the White Cloak Galad role alongside beef with Perrin. They did cast him as very handsome.

Man, Accepted get one hell of a room upgrade!

Ihvon's "we see their weakness and remind them they are not gods" line was great, and also made me think of FA *grin*

I love Liandrin. I can't help it. The show is doing a fantastic job of humanising the "baddies" and making their fall to the Dark relatable. Selene also had some great lines about being a mirror to Lews. As did Rand with his want to be seen as a man and not a monster.

What was Lanfear doing at the end there? Where the weaves just masked?

They keep saying the Amyrlin is out of the Tower. So where on earth is she??

From the ep 5 preview it looks like Gaul has been cut and Perrin will rescue Avi, which makes me sad.

Hard-hat on his head, Adrian walked the construction site in company of an architect, engineer, a Marveet-steel representative, and the site manager. The walk-through was informative; as thorough as Adrian demanded until he was satisfied with the progress.

When the tour concluded, Adrian shook hands all around and climbed into the back of his car, signaling the driver. He worked off the Wallet screens while stuck in the mire of traffic, and an hour later, he climbed out of the car to endure the exact same tour at a new location before moving on to the next. All four club locations endured the same scrutiny as before. It was his land upon which they were being built, after all, even if the structure wasn’t his venture, he was invested in its success.

Just as he was about to conclude the fourth and final visit, a pair of men approached. Japanese, they wore black suits with black shirts open at the collar. Their expressions were serious, posture imposing.

Adrian raised a brow and waited by the open door of his car.

“Mister Kane?” The first asked. He seemed about 40, though Adrian had difficulty gauging the smooth skin of his face. There was no white flecked in his hair, but his eyes brooked no nonsense.

“M’hmm.” he acknowledged.

“Mister Hayashi requests to speak with you. Come with us please.” Adrian looked from one to the other, understanding the implied expectation. If he did not go, they would make him. Or try to.

“I am busy at the moment. He can schedule a meeting with my assistant,” he said in dismissal and started to climb into the car just as the Yakuza’s hand halted the door from closing.

“Now. Mister Kane.” And his gaze diverted to a limousine some distance from the construction site.

Adrian straightened, gaze flat. His schedule could endure as much, but the intrusive nature of their threats bothered him on principle. To date, his correspondence with Hayashi was purely business. He deserved to be treated as such. Treated better.

Which was with an inward grumble that he assented to the escort.

Yuta Hayashi’s car was dimmed by the black-shaded windows wrapping the Yakuza boss in privacy. It was without any trepidation that Adrian joined him, nor even when the door slammed on his heels, sealing him to whatever fate waited.

It was then that he recognized they were not alone. The sugary smile of Yasmine Amengual greeted him. 

Which was... unexpected.

Here be spoilers...






















Actually, I've only seen the first episode, but I pretty much loved everything about it so far. Felt a lot more subtle and character driven. SO many feels already! Loved the glimpse into Tower life. Adeleas! Both her scenes made me laugh out loud (and swapping out Vandene for Verin makes so much sense). Channeling looks amazing. Still adore the soundtrack. The elapsed time between seasons 1 and 2 works great.

There was a little makeover party in their small abode.  Cruz followed with ease though there was a constant peering at Esper.  Her power had made him more smitten with her friend and there was a stab of jealousy still coursing through her when they arrived at the Devil's Lair.  One of Zeke's lesser known establishments -- catering to the darker side of things.  Not that all of them didn't in one form or another, even his charitous nature was dark and self serving.  He wouldn't be family otherwise.  Roza thought to herself.  It was all part of being the outcast -- the Romani -- the gypsies and wanderers.  There was a little bitterness in all of them.  We take what we earn, Roza thought to herself and she slid through the crowd.  

"I want to dance."  She took Rena and Esper by the hand and yanked them into the throng of people.  Cruz would follow.  He was lead on their strings with more enticing fruits

While searching for the mysterious beast that killed the three campers earlier this week, a cave full of dismembered corpses was found.  Among the remains were two human skulls that have yet to be identified and many other animal carcasses in various states of decomposition.

No one knows what kind of creature has this particular killing method. 

Is there a name of Adrian's hotel? I've got Colette and now Carter both staying there. Plus it seems to be the place Adrian lives. Is there any information about the inside? Main spaces?

There was a discussion in another thread, but not sure where it ended?