Night of the New Moon

[Zelda]

The Queen had been rushed off her feet. With the builders, all the extra nobles turning up expecting rooms and Lady Moon sueing the crown the corresspondance had been piling up in great mountains of paper in her office. She finally had escaped Mortas and Co for 5 minutes of peace. As she brushed a random pile of unanswered corresspondace off the desk to make room for her feet she sighed and settled in to enjoy the solitude.
As her feet hit the desk and she leaned back to enjoy the solitude and the strong coffee she had rescued from the ravenous hordes in the kitchen there was a tentative knock at the door.
"Your Majesty?"
The Queen sigh...couldnt she be left alone for 2 minutes? "Yes, what is it?" she asked the very nervous looking Masteria page standing at the door.
"Ummm you are supposed to be at Lady Willows wedding in an hour...you asked me to remind you."
"Thank you, can you go find my dresser and tell her I will be there in 10 minutes?"
"Yes ma'm" and the page scuttled off, relived not to have had to witness the Queens increasingly short temper.
After drinking her coffee at lot quicker then she intended the Queen swung her boots off the desk, rolled her eyes and poked out her tounge at the paper work that needed to be done and walked with a vauge purpose to her dressing chamber.

Upon arriving she found Harriet her maid had laid out a simple dark green silk dress with cream lace raglan sleeves and matching shoes. Simple but elegant, the last thing the Queen wanted to do was overshadow Willow on her big day. As she finished dressing Harry her hairdresser flounced in trailing the smell of shampoo with 2 attendents and insisted on doing her hair in a complicated mess of curls and knots. Fighting him off, the Queen convinced him a simple braid would be quicker and she was quite cabaple of doing it herself and that Willow was probably in much more need of his services what with her headress and such. Harry squealed at the thought and sprinted down the corridor before the Queen could ask him for a spare hair pin or two.
Shaking her head the Queen found a hair pin under the dresser, did her hair and walked to the chapel. Although she knew she had to put on a happy face for Willow her mind went back to the day she married Arcon in this very chapel. It had bittersweet memories. The queen moved her way down the aisle, smiling at the people assembled to witness Willows happy day.

[lochinvar]

bumping

[Swordsman]

“M’lady, please don’t enter this tournament. If you’re killed, or even wounded, the wolves will just close in.” Nækos sat in a comfortable chair opposite the wide royal desk.

Zelda regarded him with weary eyes. “If I’m defeated, I won’t be able to rule. But if I don’t enter, I won’t be able to rule anyway! I have to do this to save the place from dismemberment.”

“And what if you win, but are wounded in the process?”

“A chance I’m afraid we’ll have to take.”

“NO.”

Zelda’s eyes grew dark. “You are giving me an order?”

“Yes.”

“You’re awfully bold for a self-righteous halfling mercenary who doesn’t even have his full unit behind him.”

Nækos bolted up from the chair, whipping a dagger from his boot and slamming it into the desk. It pinned the queen’s hand down by the sleeve. “And you are dangerously bold for a queen whose king is missing, probably dead, and has no heir! In addition, every enemy you have is massing right now, just waiting to get their hands on the throne! Not to mention the juggernaut of an empire just a sea away that has its eye on this whole CONTINENT!!! And then you decide to, while completely alone, insult a fully armed warrior? WHILE YOU LACK EVEN A LETTER OPENER!! Do NOT talk to me about BOLD! BOLD is what has kept me ALIVE THIS LONG!”

There was a tense silence for a minute.

“Let me put it this way, Zelda.” She noted the chance in title. “You conscripted about half of my strike force while I was gone into your inept secret service. I retain, however, at least ten troops. These ten also happen to be the oldest, most loyal, and most reliable. And most experienced. It would not be very difficult for me to assassinate any three or four officials in this government alone and unassisted – and escape alive. With my ten behind me, I could take out the entire government. Now, this is a fully formed, relatively secure, and stable government. If somebody were to beat you in the tournament and actually take over, how long do you really think they would last? I could put you back on the throne within a week. Unless you were wounded or dead – in which case I could do nothing.”

Nækos paused to let the information sink in, then continued. “Second point: You will not win this tournament.”

“And how do you know that? I’ve had my share of fights. I can hold my own, and I’ve been practicing.” Zelda removed the dagger from her sleeve and handed it back.

“Can you beat me, your majesty?”

She regarded the Swordsman for a moment. “Quite possibly.”

He laughed quietly. “With all due respect, you wouldn’t scratch me. Nor would many of the other people in this tournament – which brings me to my last point: Let Angelo and I enter, and we will win. He is the only one close to my level. Besides him, there are one or two. Seftha Relyen, from Marsteria. Almost as good as Angelo. Manal Feneth claims no allegiances, but spends most of his time on Muu’s northern borderlands. Him I would love to recruit. Besides them, there are a few who could be promising with sufficient training. Nothing else. I will win this tournament. This will satisfy two important groups. First, it will satisfy the various interlopers by placing a warrior on the throne, with a powerful second-in-command and an elite strike force backing him. Second, it will satisfy you, because you will retain all of your current power. We will be nothing more than a face and a fist for you.”

Zelda was silent while she absorbed everything that had just happened. She’d just been given a direct order by her special forces commander. When she’d resisted, he had continued on to yell at her, and then deliver what sounded like a threat. Finally, he had concluded by offering to take a definite control of the kingdom, then hand it back to her – while leaving it protected. “Nækos, I have to lead. I have to enter for the people. Without them, I have no country to rule.

He nodded, then sat, shoulders sagging and head down. After a minute he looked up. “My apologies for the outburst. I did not mean to threaten you. I am still running on bloodlust. For right now, it seems the only thing I have to run on.”

“You never did say where you went when you disappeared that night.”

Nækos leaned back in the chair, slouching and relaxing. “It is something of a story.”

“I should hope so, as you left us in something of a lurch.”

Nækos stretched, rubbed a hand over his face. “I traveled through many areas before settling here. I didn’t stay long in many of them. The last place I stayed any time in was called Nova Zemblar, a small town in Russland. I trained there with a people called the Talruum – it is where most of my fighting ability comes from.

“As you know, I let myself disappear for a good long time before. I won’t bother you with the reasons behind that. The night I returned from my wanderings was one of the nights we were having all the problems around the castle – you screaming hysterically, for example. The next night was the ball. That morning, however, I found a Talruum named Blade half-dead on my doorstep. I fixed him up a little, got some food and drink in him, and he left. After the ball, however, he returned with word that the Talruum – all of them – were in a bad situation. I left with him, taking Serana with me. Angelo followed later, catching up with us at the coast.

“Once in Nova Zemblar we set to the job. Serana was something of an emissary to the Talruum, helping to unite the clans. Angelo worked his way into the militia being raised against them, eventually commanding the archers. I infiltrated the command ring, assassinated the leader – and his various lieutenants – and took over myself. Now that I had control of the main militia, I turned the city against them. Then Angelo and I led them all up into the mountains to be slaughtered by the Talruum. Then the three of us came back here.”

Zelda regarded the crossblood coolly. “Brutal measures. What is your justification?”

“Sacrifice the lives of a hundred to save an entire race. I won’t bother you with the how or the why.”

The queen considered it for a moment, then decided to move on. “When did you return, and what have you been doing since then?”

“We got back…late last night, I guess. The three of us stopped at The Bitter End for some food and drink. Very early this morning I went to find Arcon, and found you instead. After I told you about the invasion and left, I returned to my cottage. That was rather unpleasant. Then I came back here after I heard about the tournament.”

“What was so bad about going back to your home?”

“It’s not my home.”

“It is where you live and keep your things, no?”

“Which makes it my place of residence, my house, yes. I have no home. Why was it unpleasant? There was a note pinned to my table with a dagger. The dagger was the one I gave her at the ball. The note was saying she was leaving.”

“Serana?”

Nækos took a deep breath. “Yes.”

“You loved her, didn’t you?”

“I still do. But now she left.”

“Why her?”

With a slow exertion Nækos pulled himself upright, then forward in his seat, propping his chin in his folded hands. He had not the energy yet for any kind of anger.

“Why…? She is the one. I feel it, I swear. She is the only one.”

Nækos stood suddenly and quickly left. Zelda was about to return to other matters when she heard one further comment snarled from just without the door:

“She was the only one. Now there is none.”

[Lord Tellurine]

“Next!”

Registration for the tournament had begun. Just outside of the nearly completed tournament arena was a tent with a table that faced towards town, or actually the camps that had sprung up between the town and the arena. Sitting at the table was Mortas, Duke of Angford, and in front of him was a line of young, strong men who wished to enter the tournament.

“Peter Ogile of Greywood,” said a nervous and tall young man as he stepped up to the table.

“Greywood?” asked Mortas, not looking up from the parchment he was writing on.

“In the Kingdom of Strahfurt,” he answered with a gulp.

“That’s quite a journey,” commented Mortas, still writing and not looking.

“I just arrived this morning.” A hint of the long journey’s fatigue crept into his voice.

“That’s okay, the tournament doesn’t start until tomorrow.” A thought occurred to him and he finally looked up. “Coming down you didn’t happen to bump into a group of Arconians searching for our king did you?”

“No, sir,” he answered politely.

“That’s all right,” sighed Mortas, lowering his head back to his parchment. “Step over to the right where Colin, the Earl of Brenwyck, will examine your weapon.”

The tall young man blushed. “I didn’t bring it, sir,” he stuttered nervously. “I didn’t know…”

“Go back and get it,” intoned Mortas mechanically. It was the ninth time he’s said it today. As the young man began to run back towards town Mortas stood and announced, “You must have the weapon you are using for the tournament with you for inspection. Your weapon will be registered and then inspected again just before you compete. If you DO NOT have you weapon with you… Go get it.” Half a dozen men stepped out of the line and started back towards town. Mortas sighed and sat back down. “Next!”

“Sven Lutefisk,” said the next voice he heard. If he had looked up he would have seen a peculiar man with long blonde hair, an orange tan, and black eyebrows.

“From?” pressed Mortas.

“Brenwyck,” the man lied.

“Really?” he said, finally looking up. He blinked twice to completely take in the strange man. “My cohort there is the Earl of Brenwyck,” he offered, slightly stupefied.

“I know,” said the man with an oily smile. “I’ve heard him speak of you.”

“Really?” asked Mortas, his interest peaked.

Sven laughed to himself and told him, “He says you’re a boring stuffed-shirt who wouldn’t know a good time if you sat on it.” He waited anxiously for the response.

Mortas didn’t say anything for a moment, shrugged slightly, and then replied, “What else is new.”

Sven was taken aback. That wasn’t the response he was looking for. “Well, uh, you know, he also said your mother wears army boots.”

“Of course she does,” snapped back Mortas. “Gave them to her as a Craigday gift. They are very sensible footwear. Never wear out.”

Sven began to panic. The plan was not working. His eyes darted all around as he tried to think of something, anything he could say. He saw the parchment Mortas had been writing on. “Earlier today,” Sven improvised, “I heard him say that your handwriting was that of a drunken ferret.”

This made Mortas stop. His eyes narrowed and his lips curled angrily. Mortas asked slowly, “He said that?”

“Said nobody would be able to read a word you write.”

Mortas glanced down at his parchment. What was wrong with the way he wrote? His loops were graceful, his crosses with distinct, and every “s” looked like an “f” just as the style of the time dictated. He would definitely have words with Colin that evening at the royal dinner Queen Zelda was having for the visiting dignitaries. He looked back up at Sven. “Go let that uncouth barbarian examine your weapon.” He waved Sven away and snorted impolitely. “Next!”

Sven made his way to another table just outside the tent. There sat Colin, Earl of Brenwyck. “Weapon,” the big man said and Sven complied.

“Very nice,” commented the Earl. “Good workmanship. Where was made?”

The blade was made by one of the finer Muu craftsmen employed by the King of Muu, but Sven said, “Oddly enough it was gift from the Duke of Angford many years ago.”

“Craig’s areola! How about that? What was the occasion?”

Sven was all ready for this one. “I had told him I was on my way to Brenwyck to purchase a sword.”

“We have fine swords in Brenwyck,” interrupted Colin.

“…And he told me I wouldn’t be able to cut through warm butter with a sword from Brenwyck. Then he gave me this sword just so I wouldn’t waste money on one from Brenwyck.”

“Craig’s Adam apple! That tightwad GAVE you the sword?”

“So I wouldn’t buy one from Brenwyck,” reminded Sven.

“That Mortas has got some nerve,” fumed Colin. “I think I’ll have a talk with him at the royal dinner tonight.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” Sven let slip out.

“What?”

“Looking forward to the tournament, I mean.”

“Yeah… Whatever. Here’s your sword,” Colin said, sliding it across the table as if it now were diseased.

“Good day,” sang Sven. For him, it was turning out to be a good day indeed.

[Zelda]

Why do I see tantrums b4 bedtime?

[Zelda]

Technically it wasnt a ball. The Queen had banned balls since holding a ball seemed to precipitate some sort of disaster in the kingdom. None the less the dinner she was holding for the competitors that evening took time and effort to organise.
Things had certainly been busy since Arcon had disappeared. What with Lady Willows wedding falling to pieces at the last minute, which reminded the Queen, she had to go and make sure both Willow and Nicholas were alright. The construction and administration for the tourney thankfully had been taken over by Colin and Mortas. The Queen really didnt think she could handle everything at the moment. She had to train too you know. Which reminded her, she grabbed her weapon which she was competiting with and made her way down to the tourney registration....she may be Queen but she had to register all the same!
As she arrived and joined the long winding queue she saw a vaugely familar figure up ahead. The build looked alot like Lady Moons doctor, but it also looked like that ghastly attorney. However the hair colour wasnt quite right, nor was the skin tone. "How many people actually have ORANGE skin??" the Queen mused to herself as the queue crept forward. The mood changed however as the orange skinned man left the registration area. What had previously been a jovial feel between Colin and Mortas suddenly turned into an icey silence.
"Oh dear, what NOW????" the Queen wondered.

[Swordsman]

For lack of a better place to put this - please forgive if it doesn't quite fit the thread.

[Swordsman]

Nækos hated everything at the moment. He was out in the middle of an open street – in broad daylight. There was not a cloud in sight to so much as provide shade. Noise and people surrounded him. His halfling’s eyes, better in the dark than a human’s, did not care for bright light. The glaring sunlight now assailing him made him squint, duck his head, and wish for a hooded cloak.

And Serana was gone.

The dark creature struck in the light began to move more quickly, dodging around people in the street. But it was too slow, and the light still beat down. He began to jog now, feet flying in every direction as he dodged quickly through the crowd.

And Serana was gone.

The crowd thinned, and he broke into a full run. Trees and buildings and people raced by, but he was oblivious to them.

And Serana was gone.

He left the city proper, still running.

And Serana was gone.

He came into his empty cottage.

And Serana was gone.

He went into the cellar, retreated to the furthest, darkest, corner, and sat.

And Serana was gone.

There was only one thing left – to fight.

And Serana was gone.

And Serana was gone.

[Kehra Dehvokan]

...and where is she...? Perhaps quite lost for now, but maybe not for eternity, I hope...

And as for another matter entirly, you know who I am, my dear Swordsman. I feared what you would say if I registered under my usual name, but I feared less a reprimand for sneaking in under a different name. But I can hide that it is I, Tay, no longer!

*bows and disappears*

[lochinvar]

[quote]Originally posted by Kehra Dehvokan:
<strong>
And as for another matter entirly, you know who I am, my dear Swordsman. I feared what you would say if I registered under my usual name, but I feared less a reprimand for sneaking in under a different name. But I can hide that it is I, Tay, no longer!
</strong><hr></blockquote>

"Reprimand"? Who speaks of reprimands due to people for registering and participating at Fencing.net?

I would hope that Swordsman would never seek to hinder the comings or goings of any person of good will in Arconia.

[Kehra Dehvokan]

Ah, not because I registered! But perhaps because I snuck in and did not tell him that I registered under a name he would not recognize. Swordsman would not hinder me or anyone of good will. He showed me his writings here long ago, and he knows I read the adventures that take place in Arconia!

[ 04-23-2002: Message edited by: Kehra Dehvokan ]</p>

[Swordsman]

Tay, you have come! I wondered if perhaps it was you, but never thought it could be true!

How could I ever reprimand you, my beloved Tay? Welcome, welcome! And thank you for finally showing your face, my dear!

[Kehra Dehvokan]

Thank you, my dear Swordsman! I almost told you Friday night, heh.

Well, now that that is done, I am content. Carry on, and excuse this little inturruption!