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PROLOGUE: THE RIGHTS OF MEN

Barsadian Year 740, 4th of Ovis

 

Once every three years, Lorelle becomes one of the most crowded and active cities in Sathor. Just over a full day's trip downriver by boat from the Imperial Capital, the sparkling riverside fortress has for generations served as one of the main points of defense on the way to Queensgate. But its more well-known -- and far more controversial -- feature that has led to today's thick multitudes and the high spirits of its citizenry centers around the arena at the far end of town, and the Games that had been held there for as long as anyone can remember. Nobles from all across Sathor congregate, bringing the gladiators that have trained for years, some of them champions of previous Games, in a bid for who has the finest fighters. Nearly everyone of some name has a stake in these Games, and it's high stakes, high rewards.

 

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"We are honored to have a dispatch of the Queen's Knights themselves here to oversee the safety of the Games." With tensions with Gossmys mounting by the day, the rebels' next attack could take place anywhere. Lorelle at this time of year, with its high population density, many of whom are of the noble class, is a prime target. "Her Majesty is very generous to think of Lorelle."

 

The young nobleman guides them through the halls of the arena's residential areas, where only those of highest status are permitted to stay, most others coming to see the Games forced to find their own lodgings elsewhere throughout the city.

 

The dispatch that has been sent to guard Lorelle from any hint of foreign invasion consists of both new recruits as well as some who have been among the ranks for some time. Many of the finest among the Knights, of course, as well as their Commander, have stayed behind at Queensgate, maintaining the defenses and strong security there. Though the Knights' primary task in Lorelle is one of guard duty that calls for professionalism and alertness, there may well be those who see this is as an opportunity for sightseeing, as the city and its stone bridges over clear water are quite beautiful, even with all the people.

 

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Heeled boots clicking against the polished marble, the nobleman rounds another corner to a long hallway, lacquered doors lining both sides. "These will be your quarters for your stay," he says, turning to face them with a slight bow, gesturing to them with a modest sweep of an arm. "I hope they have been prepared to your liking. The door to the town is that way, though I humbly suggest that you not get separated too much if you wish to see the city. I have no doubt in your ability to defend yourselves, but with the Games always come the petty thieves who try to take advantage of the crowds, and other such troublemakers . . . Once again, my name is Leofric, of House Fenway. Please let me know if I might provide any further assistance."

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"I see. For now I am content with simply waiting here, though I would like to know if there are any libraries around for future reference," the man asks Leofric.

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"O-oh, m-my room! And s-sightseeing..!" Herrman tries to pull her luggage behind her. However, he petite bony frame provides no strength needed to go on and she slumps onto her knees with a sigh. She clearly needs help. 

 

"I-I'm going to b-break a nail like this..." She mutters to herself, rubbing her nose. She turns to Leofric afterwards. "S-sir, w-why can't my horsey go with me here..? I c-can clean up behind h-him..."

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"The arena boasts a library of its own, though admittedly small. The city collection can be found near the upper residential district, which is just past the bridge you'll see if you leave the arena and walk straight for a few blocks," he replies to the monk politely, before turning his attention to the girl behind him.

 

"Er . . . I'm afraid horses cannot fit well through these halls . . . or the rooms. My apologies, Lady Knight, but I assure you he will be lodged in the finest stables Lorelle has to offer."

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At last, some suitable accommodations for a Queen's Knight. The toils of the trip downriver from Queensgate had left a sour taste in his mouth, and Wren was more than ready to keep his two feet firmly on solid ground for the foreseeable future. Yes, yes, traveling by boat was the swiftest route there, but couldn't they have just as easily ridden or flown? Surely a carriage ride would have been infinitely more pleasant than the rocking, tossing, nauseating sway of that damned sea vessel. But, regardless, here they were at last in Lorelle. The city was much the same as it had been three years ago -- although, admittedly, he had found himself there under much different circumstances, being a patron along with his father, mother, and siblings at the time. There's still a part of him that would much rather be sitting amongst the crowd of spectators, enjoying the concessions as the duels played out with excitement and carnage in the arena below... but fate instead rendered him a place as an over-glorified watchman. If they were to stand guard around the city, there'd really be no way to get a glimpse at the Games themselves, would there...? Which meant all Wren would get to hear of them would be whatever recounting of the highlights his brother decided to share with him, with the underlying smugness that he got to see it instead. Fantastic.

 

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Sighing, he hefts his things back over his shoulder, stepping around Herrman with a slightly pitying look down his nose before turning his attention to the man leading them in. "Lord Leofric, was it?" he asks, extending a hand. "Wrensworth, of House Cross. It's a pleasure. I take it you too are here to enjoy the Games? Is House Fenway simply viewing or do they have a man in the area this year? I heard my brother Branden has been grooming a man for the occasion, but, unfortunately, when duty calls one must heed it -- I won't get to see."

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"Was stupid thinking there'd be anything but the flexing of political theatre from these so called knights. Overly lavish halls... such niceties to hide what these people really are. Their souls black as tar. Their concerns much more focused on whatever it is their precious queen desires. Or perhaps the meaningless struggle for power. A human that believes they can hold dominion over others. What a disgusting thought. My fault for getting into this mess." a woman sat off by herself looking on the rest of this so called Queen's Guard. She certainly didn't look like she belonged in any way to this group. And yet, here she was. She took a long drag from her pipe, blowing smoke into the air. She wore a long flowing garment covered in intricate designs. Something not commonly seen in these lands... or any lands for that matter, for it was the dress of her native people. The kimono. Something that might've been copied by nobility trying to have a foreign or exotic appearance. However, she wore a true one.

She shifted her position watching the people she was now stuck with, accessing what they were. Probably useless. They'd probably only serve to hold her back in her mission. It was inevitable.

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"The city collection sounds interesting, Maybe I'll check it out when I have time," he remarks, disappointed in hearing about the small selection of the arena library. Then again, small places tended to have some rare gems, so looking into it may not be so bad. Looking around, he noticed a woman in a rather curious outfit. He had seen something similar on rare instances back home when someone tried to show off, but this seemed to be a different case from that. He figured that the stories she may have to tell would be far more interesting than what he would find in the local library.

 

"I must say, I didn't expect to see that kind of outfit here of all places. Is there a story behind it?" he decides to ask.

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House Cross, House Cross . . . "Oh, yes. I remember seeing your brother some months ago, and he mentioned a sibling of his had made his way into the Queen's Knights. That must be you. My heartfelt congratulations."

 

Though the smile is warm enough, there's something of a concession in it. Fenway, after all, is a high noble house, with generations of longstanding political ties. By comparison . . .

 

"We do," he replies. "He is a bit fiery, but the new ones always are. Nothing a few more years and some training won't remedy. His skill is impressive, but I am just looking to test his abilities this year. There is still much refining to do."

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Marek had largely followed in silence as their lodgings were shown to them. The city was not particularly impressive to him, compared to the vista's back home and all the grandeur the capital had held the first time he saw it. It had seemed nice enough from the air though, he supposed. Most of the cities back home didn't bother with very sizable walls- if they even bothered with them all. There was really no point, in all honesty...

     He could not help but notice the troubadour lagging behind most of the others though. Ah yes, Luggage... such a troublesome thing, just like having to carry your weapon in hand wherever you went. He himself prefered to travel light- in fact he carried nothing on his person at all, just the armor on his back. Sighing, he made his way over to Herrman as the others continued to talk to their guide.

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"Looks like you could use a hand there," and like it was absolutely nothing, he hefted the bags up and over his shoulder "You know, next you could just ask someone for help..."

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"Ah, good, good. Then it truly is a shame I won't get to watch the matches -- the new one are always the most fun to watch." They were far more unpredictable than their more seasoned competitors anyways -- like the man who'd nearly torn off another's arm in the last games. That had been a sight to behold (even if the memory of it had haunted him for several months afterwards). "I wouldn't count my brother's pick out just yet; though, with House Fenway in the ranks, I imagine he'll have a harder shot than we'd thought." He gives a small, evidently practiced, short laugh. The higher nobility, in which House Fenway was stationed, tended to have the upper hand when it came to more experienced and trained gladiators, if the games he'd seen were anything to go by. Of course, it wasn't impossible for a lower house, or even lower, to win, but the chances... weren't in their favor. Not that any of this should matter to Wren -- he was a royal knight now, and that was far more glorious a title to hold than sponsor of the Games' victor. At least he hopes so.

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Elise came in after most of the rest, having been ensuring that her pegasus, Gale, was properly stabled. It shocked her how few stable hands knew how to take care of one! Granted, she may have had a small bias... she had packed relatively light, having few belongings that she needed to bring, that all fit in a small bag she had hefted over her shoulder. She looked around with something like awe - she'd never been anywhere so fancy-looking. She whistled.

 

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"Nice place." she comments simply. "I'm Elise Sturn. A pleasure to meet you!" she says to the man who'd escorted them, before heading into one of the rooms. A few moments later, she comes back, having deposited her bag on one of the beds. 

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"Hmmm, yes. It tells the story of a young woman who was minding her own business suddenly accosted by company she did not want." she took a another drag from her pipe blowing more heated air outward. She must've been at it for some time due to how smokey this corner was getting, though, the building seemed well enough ventilated that it didn't accumulate much more than what was hanging there. Her words in fairness didn't lie, they just alos happened to apply to the current situation.

She looked over the man. He'd been the one inquiring earlier about libraries. Scholarly type it'd seem. The ones that meant well but were probably the worst kind of people when it came to her people. They tended to make a spectical out of their traditions, as if they were entertainment for the masses in the so called countries. The masses of land falsely claimed by overly ambitious lords, or whatever title, trying to own that which belonged to the Mother of the World. Pitiful really. She did not know his intent though. Perhaps it was unfair to judge... but the hesitance to do was what lead her down this path. Others poor judgement, their want to believe that not all of the Landsmen were like those of Gossmys... had cost her dearly. It cost them their lives. They deserved the fate they got.

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"O-oh, t-thank you, and you're right!" Herrman quickly hops onto her feet, surprised at the man helping her. Not that she wasn't expecting someone to help her, honestly. They always did.

 

"I-I'm Herrman. I'm with the h-healing division..." She stutters over to her room, following Marek. When he deposits her stuff, she sighs in relief. "T-thank you so very much." She says. "I wonder how could I e-ever repay you..."

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"Hah. I see. Well this unwanted company's name is Marcus," he introduces himself, amused by the woman's response. He then looks on to Leofric and frowns. "So these Games, what do you think of them?" he decides to ask, wondering how she'll respond.

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"Waste of time. Fancy posturing only called battle in name, but not in spirit. They are just what the title implies. Games. Grown men and woman playing at children's games. It's pathetic really." She slid something over to this "Marcus". "If you're going to be here, make yourself useful." she was holding the pipe in front of him waiting for him to refill it for her. 

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"Thank you for your kind words," he replies, amused. "We don't have many chips to throw in this year, so to speak. As I said, our warrior is still mostly untrained. We can only hope to place."

 

The youngest boy of House Cross, so clearly bowing and scraping before High Nobility like this? Not unexpected, but a little shameless, he thinks. He guesses habits die hard, even when one is now of the esteemed Queen's Knights. 

 

"The pleasure is all mine, Lady Knight," he replies graciously to the woman who emerges from her selected room, giving a small bow. At that moment, a soldier approaches from further down the hall behind Leofric, coming close to whisper something in his ear. A shadow crosses his face instantly and he turns to the man. "Are you certain?

 

"Y-Yes, my lord. He was heading toward the bridge to the upper residential district."

 

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Grinding his teeth, Leofric barely muffles a curse under his breath before turning to face the Knights. "My sincerest apologies, Honored Knights, but an urgent matter demands my attention and I must leave you. Please do explore the city. The Games don't begin until tomorrow, but Lorelle has much to offer until then. As I mentioned, though, mind the troublemakers amid the common rabble."

 

With that, he turns and briskly follows the soldier down the end of the hallway.

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"Hah! Alright then, I'll indulge you for now," he laughs, refilling her pipe. Truly an interesting person, he thought to himself. "I do have to agree about these games just being posturing and nothing more. Chances are it's just going to be them showing off who could buy the better fighter or some such. Though I do have to wonder if real talent can come from such a sport such as this," Marcus mutters the last bit before noticing the commotion with Leofric. "What are the chances that whatever he got called out to deal with is going to end up coming to us later?"

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In full armor, Arthur had to enter a few doors sideways, his shoulder pads too wide to make it through. He carried with him all he owned: a sack with the small amount of clothes he wore, his sword and his shield. He entered a room and placed his sack in a corner, not caring much about which bed he would sleep in letter. Everyone else should have first pickings anyways. Putting his shield and sword on his back, he walked back to the main hall with the others, approaching the blonde girl. He'd her name was Elise? "My name is Arthur, pleased to meet you. I hope we'll all get along just fine." He extends his hand out to the woman and a few seconds later realizes his rudeness. "Oh I think it's custom to take off gloves before asking for a handshake... I'm sorry it's hard to take off all the armor after putting it on, I don't mean to offend."

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She placed the pipe back into her mouth. and with the same arm, retrieved something with which she lit it once more. She did it surprisingly quick so Marcus wasn't even sure what she had done. She took a another hit from it, breathing in the smoke. It was from a particular plant that her people knew about. She wondered if anyone here knew it existed. It was said to have healing properties... for the mind and the soul. Akane was never sure how true that was though. She breathed out more of the off-white smoke.

"Talent can come from anywhere. Perhaps the only thing I can agree with the Queen's Guard on. How they are selected. As for your question. Highly. Nobles like him can't be expected to do anything. They are worthless outside of their cushy lives of politics. Further, if the city's own guard were actually competent... we'd not be here wasting our time. They are as much a puffed up facade as their noble masters. Pointless peons meant to give the illusion of protection. If they were good for anything... the Queen's Guard wouldn't be needed to protect some frivolous pastimes such as these."

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"I suppose so. Though not all nobles are completely incompetent. Just most of them. You'd think given their position they would try to be more capable in these kinds of situations. Then again, I suppose most of them just rely on their money to get themselves out of messes. Unfortunately for them, money can't save you from everything, and if you don't have any skills yourself, you're just outta luck," Marcus responds, thinking back to the situation in his home.

 

"Well, either way, this will be informative of the state of this country's guards. I just ask that they aren't completely incompetent, but that's probably asking too much."

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"It's because of their position that they aren't. If you always delegate all the fighting to your body guards... how will you ever learn to do it for yourself? You never will is the answer. For every servant they have that does something for them... they never learn that skill. Their apparent "lesser" does. It's why talent can come from anywhere, not only from those the most well off in this world. Typically the most useless people are those that sit on their wealth or whatever they have and rot away while they do nothing. Inaction is the deadliest poison." more witticisms followed by a puff of off-white smoke. She crossed her leg over her other shifting to something more comfortable.

"and it certainly is. If there's anything in this world one can be certain of... it's that people are incompetent. Competency is one of the rarest commodities in this world. If it wasn't... well, let's just say the metric by which the Queen's Guard were selected, would be a terrible one. Everyone would be in the Queen's Guard."

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42 minutes ago, Pyon Pyon Kyuu!~ said:

In full armor, Arthur had to enter a few doors sideways, his shoulder pads too wide to make it through. He carried with him all he owned: a sack with the small amount of clothes he wore, his sword and his shield. He entered a room and placed his sack in a corner, not caring much about which bed he would sleep in letter. Everyone else should have first pickings anyways. Putting his shield and sword on his back, he walked back to the main hall with the others, approaching the blonde girl. He'd her name was Elise? "My name is Arthur, pleased to meet you. I hope we'll all get along just fine." He extends his hand out to the woman and a few seconds later realizes his rudeness. "Oh I think it's custom to take off gloves before asking for a handshake... I'm sorry it's hard to take off all the armor after putting it on, I don't mean any offend."

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"Hm? Don't worry about it. Look, I got gloves too..." She does - mostly so her hands don't get injured from holding onto her mount's reins too tight, as is like to happen when said mount is a flying horse. "If we both have gloves it isn't rude is it?" without waiting for confirmation, she firmly shakes the armored man's hand. "My name's Elise. Likewise."

 

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Arthur laughs deeply, shaking her hand and smiling. "I guess it's not! And here I was scared of being rude." He crossed crossed his arms still chuckling a bit. "I'm not sure what will be asked of us today, but we'll just have to do just fine. Thieves won't be much of an issue, we'll have to keep our cool and be kind to the citizens. Have you been to the city before? People in Lorelle can be strange folk, but they are nice deep down I think." 

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"eh, no need for any of that, it was nothing..." he said, waving the remark off. In all honesty he had her pegged as a cleric of some type from the moment he'd seen her struggling. "the name's Marek by the way, used to be a part of the Imperial Dragoons. Anyways, if you're set here, I think I'll be going now."

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"True enough," Marcus sighs, wondering exactly what kind of mess they'll have to clean up later.

 

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"What brought you to the Queen's Guard anyways if I may ask," Marcus inquires, curious as to what discipline of combat the woman is proficient in.

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