Three months had passed since the Battle for Loscar. Three months since the Usurper and her daughter had been killed on the battlefield; since the Skarran mercenaries had been wiped out; since the renegade wizards had surrendered and were executed for their crimes. Three months in which outlying lords, who had somehow missed the call to join the True Queen's army, had been called upon to declare their allegiance, and those who had declared for Velasca had soon learned the price of their betrayal.
Spring had come to Arctra, bringing with it a thaw that washed away the blood that had stained the snow on the plain outside the capital city. The Wild Ones' clans had dispersed, disappearing from plain view, but always there. Their contribution would not soon be forgotten, and if those in power had their way, the nomads would never again be persecuted simply for being different. A small contingent, chosen from each of the clans, had elected to remain in the queen's court, each day challenging the prejudices of the nobles and common Arctrans alike by their mere presence. They were known to be friends of the queen, and of her closest advisors. Only a fool attacked them these days.
Life had returned almost to a semblance of normality. The plague that had ripped through the cities was gone, taken as a sign that the Nine Gods smiled on their new queen and her reign; the crops were growing well, promising a fine harvest in the summer. But even the most politic of places needs a little entertainment at times, and there was one entertainment that had kept Loscar's people, and visitors, entertained for two full weeks now. Shaye Dervla, the First Blade, had chosen to step down from her position - the first in her line to ever have made that decision short of embracing death - and as such, Queen Ariana had declared a tournament to determine the greatest fighter in the realm, a tournament anyone could enter, male or female, lord or peasant.
For two weeks, these men and women had fought one another in the lists and on foot before the crowds that gathered to watch. Today was the day of the final fight. Shaye Dervla would take the field against the winner of the tournament, and if he defeated her fairly, he would take on the mantle of First Blade of Arctra. The tournament square was filled with people, eager to see what would happen, and just as eager to see their young queen and her wedded consort once more.
Ariana sat high amid the nobles, the great Sword of Arlan resting at her back, one hand curled affectionately into the palm of Rory Brennan, her chosen husband and consort. No one but him knew that, only a few minutes before they'd come out, the queen had been vomiting over a chamberpot, the evidence of why hidden beneath the loose hang of her gown. When that became known, Arctra would indeed have reason to celebrate.
Much had changed since the True Queen had reclaimed her rightful place on the Throne of Arctra, and yet, some things had stayed the same. There was no longer any need for rebellions against the usurper queen's reign, nor was there a need for war, and so Liam O'Connor had followed in his father's footsteps at last when the True Queen had appointed him the Captain of her Royal Guard. As such, he stood in a place of honor at her side, but it was the First Blade who had all his attention, seeing as she was also his beloved and his wife. He had met the man she would face today in the tournament and had judged him to be a fair opponent, though if he were to lose the fight against the First Blade, even Liam was unsure what would come of it. It did not come as any surprise to him that the man was a Knight of Phalion, born and bred for battle and proven worthy of the title, though whether he'd prove himself worthy enough to become First Blade remained to be seen.
Liam watched as the man, whose given name was Gerard de Winter, made his way onto the field. Given that this was to be a hand-to-hand fight, he was not clad in heavy armor that would impede his movement, but leather and chain, a sword in his hand, choosing to match her, weapon for weapon. He'd refused to take any unfair advantages, insisting this be a fair and even fight.
Shaye entered at his side, her own armor unchanged for many years now. Black and hardened leather, her midriff exposed for ease of movement, she too bore only a single sword, strapped between her shoulders. She had recovered from the injuries she had received in battle with a speed that had almost alarmed the ordinary people, but for the memory that the First Blade was bound to the Sword of Arlan by the power of the gods. Of course they would not want her out of action for long.
A cheer went up from the crowds all around them, making her grin as she glanced to the man at her side. "You ready for this?" she asked out of the corner of her mouth as they advanced toward the raised dais where the queen sat.
"I should ask you the same thing," he replied, in a gravelly voice that was confident but not arrogant, as he fell in beside her on their way toward the queen. He had only entered the tournament because it had been expected of him, not because he coveted the title of First Blade or the burden of responsibility that came with it, but if this was what the Nine had chosen to be his fate, then so be it.
"Ask me again when it's over," Shaye chuckled, coming to a halt before the dais. She drew her sword and went down on one knee, her weapon's tip in the packed sand, her hands resting on the pommel.
"Your Majesty ....we who do battle for your honor ask your mercy for the one who yields the day." They were traditional words, since no one expected either Shaye or Gerard to be executed for losing, but tradition was important in Arctra.
No one was expecting either of them to be killed either, though that was how the title of First Blade had been passed on to Shaye. The knight dropped to one knee beside Shaye, mirroring her posture, though he did not repeat her words. He was hoping to come out of this in one piece, but stranger things had been known to happen, and he had never faced an opponent such as this.
"May the Nine be with us and find us worthy of their blessings," he added, with his head bowed and both hands on the pommel of his sword, which, like Shaye's, was pointed downward into the sand.
On the dais, Ariana cast a slightly panicked look toward Rory and Liam as she rose to her feet, hoping the hang of her cloak disguised what she wasn't ready for the general populace to know yet. "By the Goddess and the Nine, I swear to uphold the outcome of this battle, and to show mercy to the one who yields the day. Gerard de Winter ....Shaye Dervla ....take your positions."
As she rose to her feet amid the fresh cheering from the crowd, Shaye threw a wink toward the young queen and consort, offering her own husband an encouraging smile before she turned to make use of the space given to them.
Liam was as stoic as always, almost scowling at the wink tossed his way. He'd known Shaye since he was a boy, and she was just as brash now as she was then. Thankfully, he'd inquired about her opponent and had learned he was an honorable man. While he wasn't happy about the tournament, he understood the necessity of it, and knew no one wanted to see anyone die here today, including the pair of opponents on the field. Even if he wanted to, there was nothing he could do now to stop it. He and Shaye had said everything a married couple could say to each other before that morning. All he could do now was watch and pray that the gods would be wise and merciful.
Spring had come to Arctra, bringing with it a thaw that washed away the blood that had stained the snow on the plain outside the capital city. The Wild Ones' clans had dispersed, disappearing from plain view, but always there. Their contribution would not soon be forgotten, and if those in power had their way, the nomads would never again be persecuted simply for being different. A small contingent, chosen from each of the clans, had elected to remain in the queen's court, each day challenging the prejudices of the nobles and common Arctrans alike by their mere presence. They were known to be friends of the queen, and of her closest advisors. Only a fool attacked them these days.
Life had returned almost to a semblance of normality. The plague that had ripped through the cities was gone, taken as a sign that the Nine Gods smiled on their new queen and her reign; the crops were growing well, promising a fine harvest in the summer. But even the most politic of places needs a little entertainment at times, and there was one entertainment that had kept Loscar's people, and visitors, entertained for two full weeks now. Shaye Dervla, the First Blade, had chosen to step down from her position - the first in her line to ever have made that decision short of embracing death - and as such, Queen Ariana had declared a tournament to determine the greatest fighter in the realm, a tournament anyone could enter, male or female, lord or peasant.
For two weeks, these men and women had fought one another in the lists and on foot before the crowds that gathered to watch. Today was the day of the final fight. Shaye Dervla would take the field against the winner of the tournament, and if he defeated her fairly, he would take on the mantle of First Blade of Arctra. The tournament square was filled with people, eager to see what would happen, and just as eager to see their young queen and her wedded consort once more.
Ariana sat high amid the nobles, the great Sword of Arlan resting at her back, one hand curled affectionately into the palm of Rory Brennan, her chosen husband and consort. No one but him knew that, only a few minutes before they'd come out, the queen had been vomiting over a chamberpot, the evidence of why hidden beneath the loose hang of her gown. When that became known, Arctra would indeed have reason to celebrate.
Much had changed since the True Queen had reclaimed her rightful place on the Throne of Arctra, and yet, some things had stayed the same. There was no longer any need for rebellions against the usurper queen's reign, nor was there a need for war, and so Liam O'Connor had followed in his father's footsteps at last when the True Queen had appointed him the Captain of her Royal Guard. As such, he stood in a place of honor at her side, but it was the First Blade who had all his attention, seeing as she was also his beloved and his wife. He had met the man she would face today in the tournament and had judged him to be a fair opponent, though if he were to lose the fight against the First Blade, even Liam was unsure what would come of it. It did not come as any surprise to him that the man was a Knight of Phalion, born and bred for battle and proven worthy of the title, though whether he'd prove himself worthy enough to become First Blade remained to be seen.
Liam watched as the man, whose given name was Gerard de Winter, made his way onto the field. Given that this was to be a hand-to-hand fight, he was not clad in heavy armor that would impede his movement, but leather and chain, a sword in his hand, choosing to match her, weapon for weapon. He'd refused to take any unfair advantages, insisting this be a fair and even fight.
Shaye entered at his side, her own armor unchanged for many years now. Black and hardened leather, her midriff exposed for ease of movement, she too bore only a single sword, strapped between her shoulders. She had recovered from the injuries she had received in battle with a speed that had almost alarmed the ordinary people, but for the memory that the First Blade was bound to the Sword of Arlan by the power of the gods. Of course they would not want her out of action for long.
A cheer went up from the crowds all around them, making her grin as she glanced to the man at her side. "You ready for this?" she asked out of the corner of her mouth as they advanced toward the raised dais where the queen sat.
"I should ask you the same thing," he replied, in a gravelly voice that was confident but not arrogant, as he fell in beside her on their way toward the queen. He had only entered the tournament because it had been expected of him, not because he coveted the title of First Blade or the burden of responsibility that came with it, but if this was what the Nine had chosen to be his fate, then so be it.
"Ask me again when it's over," Shaye chuckled, coming to a halt before the dais. She drew her sword and went down on one knee, her weapon's tip in the packed sand, her hands resting on the pommel.
"Your Majesty ....we who do battle for your honor ask your mercy for the one who yields the day." They were traditional words, since no one expected either Shaye or Gerard to be executed for losing, but tradition was important in Arctra.
No one was expecting either of them to be killed either, though that was how the title of First Blade had been passed on to Shaye. The knight dropped to one knee beside Shaye, mirroring her posture, though he did not repeat her words. He was hoping to come out of this in one piece, but stranger things had been known to happen, and he had never faced an opponent such as this.
"May the Nine be with us and find us worthy of their blessings," he added, with his head bowed and both hands on the pommel of his sword, which, like Shaye's, was pointed downward into the sand.
On the dais, Ariana cast a slightly panicked look toward Rory and Liam as she rose to her feet, hoping the hang of her cloak disguised what she wasn't ready for the general populace to know yet. "By the Goddess and the Nine, I swear to uphold the outcome of this battle, and to show mercy to the one who yields the day. Gerard de Winter ....Shaye Dervla ....take your positions."
As she rose to her feet amid the fresh cheering from the crowd, Shaye threw a wink toward the young queen and consort, offering her own husband an encouraging smile before she turned to make use of the space given to them.
Liam was as stoic as always, almost scowling at the wink tossed his way. He'd known Shaye since he was a boy, and she was just as brash now as she was then. Thankfully, he'd inquired about her opponent and had learned he was an honorable man. While he wasn't happy about the tournament, he understood the necessity of it, and knew no one wanted to see anyone die here today, including the pair of opponents on the field. Even if he wanted to, there was nothing he could do now to stop it. He and Shaye had said everything a married couple could say to each other before that morning. All he could do now was watch and pray that the gods would be wise and merciful.