i used to rule the world

seas would rise when i gave the word

There were few, truly, who held any interest in the ramblings of a man near as old as he. He had seen the world change more times over than most could even comprehend. The Hunter, at times, struggled to keep with those ever shifting sands of time. In one breath he could be capable and competent with that modern technology whilst also clinging to those near archaic belief systems. Even he still remembered that look upon Alexis' features when he had near assured her those Oracles had informed him he'd come from the gods themselves. That look of skepticism that had crossed her features had been unforgettable for him - though, truly, very little passed unnoticed and unremembered by the age old Dark Hunter. He could hardly help that glimpse of vague surprise as Dorian so effortlessly latched onto that very topic of those seers that his world had near revolved around, much less the conclusions that the Italian fae was capable of drawing at the admittance of their popularity within his own age. He watched as that grin brightened upon the boy's features at being able to so correctly guess his heritage and yet, that age old book the man spoke of was vastly more...intriguing to the Hunter. There were few true surviving copies of any sort of manuscripts from his own age. To see his own language again, to read it, it was far more than he could hope for.

Thankfully, his Godson seemed willing enough to oblige him in this, that offer to bring it in the upcoming weekend caused his eyebrow to raise and yet, slowly, he nodded. "Sunday evening, then. Saturdays are unfortunately busy here." That 'holy' day was one of the few lulls that Alexander had within his business and though the man was often keen to keep them for himself, spending time with what little remained of his makeshift family hardly seemed all that awful. Even so, the Hunter returned easily to that tale of France and the establishment of Paris as it's capital under Matteo and his own watchful eye. He was hardly unaware that he had near founded the 'city of love' and yet, she was surely not the only city that had bore his handiwork in some fashion or another. That idle comment of the excitement of his life, however, prompted but a snort from his nose. Yes, his life was terribly exciting now with espresso machines and creating lattes. Even the wars these days failed to appeal nearly as much with their aircrafts and submarines. Whole battles could be commanded without ever seeing the fray. It was...disappointing, how the world had shifted. "Perhaps once." He commented after a moment, shaking his head in some measure of his discontent.

Rather than lingering upon such despondent thoughts of how his very hobby had changed, however, Alexander saw fit to declare that he had a gift of sorts for the Monarch, one that was hardly worth any sort of true excitement. That suggestion, however, almost seemed to be moot, given that glimpse of glee upon his Godson's features as Dorian rose from that chair. Even so, he hardly spoke a word as he led the boy up and to that cozy little loft that had temporarily become his home. He made his way towards that bookshelf in the corner, fetching a box from the ledge to pluck from it's depths that peculiar, silver coin. He handed the Monarch that coin before turning upon the man to place that box back where he had fetched it. That inquiry of what those few words read were answered in an entirely nonchalant fashion, that title of nobility, however, hardly seemed lost upon Dorian. That sound of astonishment that left the Italian's lips caused the Hunter to pause, glancing over his shoulder. "I was, yes." He stated simply, slowly turning with a nonchalant shrug. He had grown up in a world of nobility, had made a name for himself with that title, one that persisted even after his death, despite the Council's efforts to strip it from him. Alexander might have lost his Kingdom but his legacy still remained.

He watched with altogether subtle amusement as the Monarch struggled to put together the pieces of Alexander's own reign. That inquiry of his age was hardly new, and yet, Alexander despised actually admitting that number. He'd long since stopped celebrating his own birthday or marking his own death. In fact, the man had to pause to even calculate exactly how old he truly was. "I was born before you began to mark time by your God's death." He stated after a moment's consideration, preferring that to the true number of his age. Thankfully, Dorian hardly seemed to require that age all the same as he considered all the noteworthy Kings prior to his father's time that bore his age. Himself was, naturally, the only one of any true merit. "Alexander the third of Macedon." He stated, clarifying exactly where he fell in that line, even if others were so often prone to forgetting his grandfather or the King that was the first of his name.

That question of his mentor, however, was almost unexpected and yet, he supposed those few who knew if his existence now were generally entranced by various minute details of his life before death. Few had ever cared of his own education, though. Even so his head bobbed with a small simper settled on his lips, the hunter moved around that young man to settle back in that plush chair he had occupied before Matteo and, even Dorian's, interruption. "Yes, I knew him well. I studied under him for seven years. We kept touch in letters after that." He eyed that look of noteable intrigue upon the fellow's features, his head tilted ever so slightly to the side as he leaned upon the chair of that arm, considering the vastness of the world that had once been his. That question of the pyramids saw his head bob, "I did, they were in far better shape than they are now...still, you should go see them. They are astounding."