Melodas, son of Melodios did not like foreigners much.
He did not rabidly hate them, though, in the way his grandfather, and his late father passionately hated the Siamese.
But even though he didn't hate foreigners, he didn't trust them. Because he didn't know them, and he couldn't be sure they weren't up to no good.
That his grandfather himself was an immigrant to these lands didn't seem to factor into it at all: Melda of Islandia had always had an intrinsic hatred of the Siamese for some reason he'd never shared. Melodas knew that Melda blamed the Siamese for Melodios's death somehow. It didn't really make sense to Melodas, since his father was killed by Delphian traitors, but he knew better than to argue. Melodios's hatred, by contrast, actually had some rational basis since he had been imprisoned by the Siamese for a time.
So Melodas didn't share his forefathers' hatred of foreigners. But he did not like them much.
Ten years had passed since his father's terrible death. And while it still hit him in the chest daily, he'd largely made his peace with hit. His grandfather, though, losing his favourite son . . . he'd never recovered.
Melodas stood with his grandfather Melda one on of the rare occasions that he ventured out of the house in the years after Melodios's death and they watched the foreign Queen Mother's entourage passing in the distance. Melda had truly grown into an old man in the years since his eldest son's death: his hair and beard were completely white and he walked with a cane.
He spat on the ground in disgust. "You keep an eye on her, Melodas."
"Yes, grandfather," Melodas replied automatically as he eyed the foreign delegation warily.
"Their whole race are tricksters and trouble makers. They'll ruin this kingdom, you know."
Melodas frowned at his aging grandfather's reflexive, unthinking racism.
But he would keep an eye on her. He didn't like her influence over the king. She was deeply unpopular in certain sections of the Council, Melodas knew. But others had been swayed by her enthusiasm and optimism --- and her early adoption of the official Delphian religion of Hellenism had won over many of the councillors.
Melodas wasn't one of them. He wasn't a particularly religious man. He honoured the gods, of course, but he was pragmatic about it: he only honoured them enough to keep them off his back; he wasn't a man of much faith.
His grandfather, Melda, had come from a land to the south where they worshipped very different gods. Having grown up with one religion and having been exposed to a second in the Delphian Kingdom had left him rather cynical about the whole thing, an attitude that had been partly carried down through the family line.
Melodas was especially sceptical about claims of visions and prophecies. He knew the Siamese woman had been in the ear of his king about some revelations she'd had, and knew of her wishes to name the fated new city after one of the gods.
Melodas disagreed, and had been quite vocal to his king that the new city should be named Alexandria in honour of the slain king Alexander the Great.
The Siamese entourage moved on, and Melodas helped his grandfather back to his home.
No, he didn't like foreigners much. And he didn't trust that Siamese woman in particular.
((I hadn’t actually mentioned this yet, despite the bit above, but when we were closer to settling the new city I was going to request it be named Alexandria in honour of our fallen king Alexander the Great --- just as the real-life city Alexandria was named in honour of the real-life Alexander the Great.
But now we’ve got competition in naming: this should be interesting!
I don’t have any real advice at this stage. I’ll have an in-depth look hopefully tonight. Failing that, tomorrow night. But I wanted to get some roleplaying in for now, to add to the tone but also because I didn’t have time for proper advice just yet.
))