The Arconian Open

[Zelda]

Well atleast the Queen thought she had been unnoticed. Silas Von Schmecht saw her leave and considered abandoning his enforced cleaning duties to follow her and reek revenge for his humiliation at her hands. He thought better of it, and decided that actions would speak louder then words on the morrow.

[Lord Tellurine]

Dancing music at the banquet (provided by the Royal Arconian Chamber Music Quartet [all five of the them]) filled the air of the tournament stadium and a number of couples began to dance on the portion of ground reserved for the activity.

Ophelia Roenseller literally had a line of young men waiting to dance with her. She was taking her time with her dinner though, trying not to seem too anxious, although the subtlety of her actions were lost on any of the suitors who had been forced to wrap the queue line around a corner and out of eyesight. As a matter of fact, some men had gotten in this portion of the queue, thinking it was the line for seconds on dessert.

Sitting next to Ophelia was her younger sister Peggy and next to her was their aunt, the Widow Pellingsworth. Peggy took another disgusted look back to the queue line and snorted, “Serving number 15!” The men all gave each other a confused look and wondered where it was they had to get their numbers.

Ophelia glared at her little sister. “Stop that!” she snapped. She turned to the boys and said sweetly, “She’s just kidding! Everyone will get a dance!” She turned back to her plate.

The Widow Pellingsworth leaned forward to look past Peggy to Ophelia and told her, “You better be dancing with only the right kind of boys. Make sure they all have papers confirming they are heirs to some kind of fortune or at least have massive tracts of land.”

Peggy piped up, “That’s not the massive thing she’s interested in.”

“Quiet you!” demanded Ophelia. “You’re just jealous.”

“That’s right,” replied back Peggy mockingly. “I wish it was me being drooled on by every man with too many muscles, no intelligence, and convinced of that outdated notion that women are property.”

“Don’ be silly,” said her Aunt, eating a small strawberry. “You’re too young for any of that. You’re only thirteen… You can wait till you’re fifteen like I did.”

“Ewww,” was all that Peggy could reply back.

“Do you want to be an old maid like your sister?” she said of 22 year-old Ophelia. “Her best years are being wasted.”

Ophelia finally finished and stood to face the line of suitors. “That’s not true,” she told her aunt. “I’m having the time of my life. C’mon, boys!” Ophelia and a small army of young men made their way to the dance floor.

Peggy dragged her spoon through her custard. She grumbled, “I hope they all step on her feet.” A tap on the shoulder interrupted her grousing. She turned to find a boy standing there. It was Anton, the stable boy, was had been given some time off from looking after the tournament goers’ horses to enjoy some dancing. She asked him, “Can I help you?”

“I would like to dance,” he told her.

“You’re late,” she said back, starting to turn back to her custard. “My sister already left.”

“I’m here to dance with you,” he corrected her, effectively stopping her from turning away.

After some thought and a short interview session Peggy Roenseller decided to dance with Anton, the stable boy. Anton didn’t have too many muscles, had read some of the same books as Peggy, and only wanted to own his own horse someday. Peggy’s feet didn’t get stepped on once.

[Darion McNair]

Ah, nice vacation. Okay back to the story....

The dance was in full swing and Darion was taking in the rich sound of the minstrels. The music soothed his ears like the voice of an old friend. He closed his eyes and listened. . . .among the instruments the guitar was rushing, the drum was dropping the beat every so often, and the mandolin needed to be tuned. All of this matter little to the enthralled listener however, who was just glad to hear something even resembling music.

The song ended and Darion was broken from his trance. The dancers were beginning to clear the floor and the Bosconian native thought it best if he headed back to the inn for a night’s rest. Cautiously he made his way past the party attenders, all of which paying little or no attention to him as usual. He approached the exit but stopped and looked back at Lady Moon who was exiting the dance floor and about to take her seat. Her eyes caught his and it was then that Darion whispered “good night”. He knew that she read his lips, but she did nothing but stare at him before finally nodding.

With that, he turned and left. The streets were well lit with torches leaving Darion’s figure fully visible, even so, few who saw him cared. He walked on, staring with interest at each building he passed on the way to the inn. He stopped at a certain building with a sign above the door that read The Bitter End. He needed some quick information and this seemed as good a place as any to get it. Upon entering the establishment, the smell of strong beer and body odor assaulted his nostrils. He walked over to the bar and plopped his tall personage down on a bar stool.

“What’ll ya have.” The stout bar tender asked him, walking over.

“Nothing, I need information.” began Darion. “I am new to Arconia and a soldier by trade. Where do I need to go to obtain a decent position in the Arconian Army?”

The bar tender laughed. He walked further down the bar and began polishing a newly emptied beer mug. “You ARE new ‘round here aren’t ya? You want in the Arconian Army? Go to the recruiting post.”

Digging in his pocket, Darion retrieved three gold coins and slapped them hard onto the bar. “Speak before I shove these down your throat.” he growled “I’m tired, and I don’t have time for games.”

The bar tender, unphased by Darion’s threat, took the gold coins saying “There is an elite Strike Force headed by a certain Naekos Servaya. That’s all I know. He’s come in here a couple of times. I don’t know where to find him just that his force is the best in all Arconia.” he pointed to the rapier at Darion’s side. “You better know what you’re doing with that thing before you go looking him up.”

“I can manage, thanks.” He responded, glaring at the man. This Strike Force was perhaps just what he was looking for. How to find this Naekos Servaya, get accepted, and serve under him was entirely another question.

He stood and left the Bitter End without another word, the three gold coins serving as his only thank you. He headed for the inn for a good night’s rest, tomorrow he knew his skills would be tested and his limits pushed.

<small>[ 08-01-2002, 10:41 PM: Message edited by: Darion McNair ]</small>

[Swordsman]

Nækos had no idea where a blacksmith might be in these circumstances. Would he be dancing? Outside? Perhaps on his way home? He dashed out ahead of the crowd and scrutinized the street. Nobody large enough to fit the bill. Crossing quickly through an alleyway, he checked the other street, concluding that Senyik must still be inside.

A short climb brought Nækos up onto the vaulted roof of the hall in which the banquet was housed. He stayed in shadow, using any spire or pillar he could find to stay out of sight. The rest of the castle was adjoining, and it wouldn’t do to be sighted by guards along the walls. His target, however, was not far away – one of the many vents from within that allowed greater airflow.

He had only a short crawl down a stone passage from one of the vents before he found himself on a ledge up near the ceiling over the dance floor. The ledge ran all the way around the hall, and several vents ran up from it to the roof. Perfect location – he could see the entire floor, and a short scurry along the ledge would let him look into the banquet half of the hall. But, it was not needed: There was the smith now, leading a tall (to Nækos, they were almost all tall) girl onto the floor for a dance. Something wasn’t right, though. He was…a little too stiff? No, not quite. He wasn’t dancing; he was working his way in circles around the floor. And his eyes were everywhere but on his partner. No, he was searching for a dark swordsman.

Do you really think, my friend, that I would intentionally stay surrounded by people? No, no. Enjoy your dance, and find me afterward. You know where my cottage is. Nækos watched for a moment or two more, sighing unconsciously to himself. Then he whirled, darted back up the stone channel, and ran for the edge of the roof. Patience. Let them come to you.

<small>[ 07-31-2002, 12:05 PM: Message edited by: Swordsman ]</small>

[Zelda]

The Queen wearily made her way back up to her rooms. Dances held no appeal for her now that Arcon was not around. He was such a good dancer, so light on his feet.
As the Queen opened her bedroom door she noticed a heavy cream envelope which had been slipped under the door. Sighing she picked it up and opened it....it could only be bad news....
Written on the slip of paper inside was a brief note, but the content bought the first smile to the face of the Queen in days.....
THE BARGE
SOMEWHERE IN ARCONIA

Your Majesty,
Due to my impending seperation and divorce from Miss Spears I will be available once again as your legal consul. I will visit tomorrow.
Love
Sir Latenight.

Smiling Zelda slipped the note into her diary and made her preparations for bed. It would be good to have latenight back. He was a flirt but had been with them since the beginning, she could trust him.

[latenight]

Latenight was not looking forward to explaining all that had happened in the time he was gone. In fact, he had racked his brain trying to think of an excuse for his return. The days on tour with the Lovely Miss Spears had been a lot of fun, until it happened. Somehow the criers of the realms had found out that the Lovely Miss Spears was in fact, not a singer at all. Someone had seen the real singer hidden behind a curtain and it all spiraled downward from there. Fresca bailed on sponsoring the tour, and the Lovely Miss Spears began a downward spiral of epic “Behind the Lute” proporations. In the end, she had unceremoniously dumped him for a drum player from the tropical island of Lombango. She said Latenight was holding her back and that she wanted to take her “art” in a new direction.

Latenight sighed. At least tomorrow he would see the Queen. He missed her a lot, especially now.

He was not looking forward to being the laughing stock of the Kingdom however. But as always, he had a plan…….

<small>[ 08-01-2002, 04:07 PM: Message edited by: latenight ]</small>

[latenight]

Latenight neared the castle. He overheard a passing farmer say to another, “Yup,the Queen is gonna enter the tournament herself . A lot of moxie, that one there.”

“What!!!”, Latenight shouted out loud. “ What in the name of all things Craig has been going on while I've been gone!”

The second farmer said, “ Hey, look! It’s that lawyer that the Lovely Miss Spears dumped for a bongo player!”

“Drum player!", Latenight snapped.

The farmer’s then launched into a hearty set of belly laughs.

It was going to be a long couple weeks for Mr. Latenight.

He hurried into the castle and headed for the Queen's chambers.

[Zelda]

The sun crept over the horizon and gently lit the room. It illuminated a sleeping figure, dwarfed by the King sized bed. Her hair was spread over the pillow and the sheet rose and fell rhythmatically with her breathing. She stretched as the sun crept over her face, waking her. The Queen slowly opened her eyes, and noticed a figure curled up in the chair by the desk. It was asleep, snoring slightly and looking disheveled. Rubbing her eyes she peered at the figure. It looked familar, but the Queen couldn't quite figure out where from. She slide out from under her cotton sheets, and wrapped a robe around her naked body. Padding over to the figure she suddenly let out a squeal of delight as she recognised the figure.
"LATENIGHT!!!! You're BACK!!!"
At which Latenight woke up, fell off the chair and landed in a heap at the Queens feet.

<small>[ 08-02-2002, 05:27 PM: Message edited by: Zelda ]</small>

[latenight]

Latenight had been startled by the Queen’s shout. But he was even more startled by her appearance. He had never seen the Queen out of formal dress before. He had always found her attractive, but she was even more striking now . Against his nature, he averted his eyes. After a moment, his was again able to focus on the task at hand.

It was time for damage control.

“Yes, my Queen, I have returned. I heard of the dire circumstances that My Dear Queen has found herself in, and returned at once to serve you. The Lovely Miss Spears and I have decided to spend some time apart to pursue other interests.”

He desperately hoped that the Queen had not heard the more accurate reports of events with the Lovely Miss Spears. The Queen had a way of making Latenight feel uncomfortable , which perhaps was the reason he was so devoted to her. Few people made him feel uncomfortable. On some level, it drew him to her.

“I have also heard that you are entertaining some crazed notion of entering the tournament. M’lady, there is bound to be foul plots afoot at the tournament with so much at stake. It would not do for one of such importance to the realm to be hacked to death or poisoned.”

He paused and thought for moment. He knew the Queen well enough to know that she would be bold and headstrong about this sort of thing. It would be nearly impossible to dissuade her from entering the tournament, but he had to save her from certain death at the hands of her enemies. Then the plan hit him.

“ My Queen, you may not know the full details of my ……..split from the Lovely Miss Spears. I will not bore you with the lurid details. Suffice it to say, I have embarrassed myself and brought great shame to Arconia. The realm is full of scandalous news of my misfortune. I beg Your Highness to allow me to be your proxy in the tourney, so that I may restore honor to my name, and to the Court”

He paused and dropping all formality in an effort to underscore his sincerity said, “Zelda, please, for a friend.”

It then occurred to him that should the Queen accept his life likely would be lost. Although skilled with the smallsword, he would be no match for many in the realm. He shuddered at the thought of it. But, for once, he knew in his heart he must do the right thing. One look at the Queens eyes told him he must do this.

Maybe he had learned something from his latest break-up after all.

[Zelda]

Zelda stiffled a fit of the giggles at the sight of Latenight trying hard not to stare. It was so unlike him. Her mind wandered and she only heard
"Zelda, please, for a friend".
"Huh?" the Queen came back to earth with a thump. "What do you want me to do?"

"Not enter the tourney. Let me go as your proxy."

At this statement the Queen gave up trying not to laugh and let loose. She laughed for about 5 mintues, until tears streamed down her face.

"Latenight dear, remember what happened LAST time I fenced you?"

Latenight flushed as he remember the drubbing the Queen had given him last time they crossed swords.

"You couldnt show your face at court for a week without people asking to see your bruises."

Latenight had to good grace to cringe and nod in agreement.

"And besides the fact I need you in the background to take care of any legal questions to the tourney. Remember the crown has to be handed over legally, I need you to draft those papers...sooner rather then later. Besides, if I get injured I need someone to make sure the competition is run fairly."

Latenight nodded and sighed. The Queen as ususal was right.

[latenight]

Latenight breathed a big sigh of relief. He wasn't sure what came over him in that moment he offered to be the Queen's proxy, but he was glad whatever it was had left at least for the moment.

The Queen always had strange effects on Latenight, but this had to be the strangest--ever. She was the closest thing he had to a friend
He was now staring at the Queen, too long perhaps, as the look on her face told him she noticed. He decided to break the awkwardness of being caught staring, " Zelda, now that I'm , umm, available again, do you know anyone you could introduce......." The Queen laughed again.

Latenight's mind began to wander to the tourney....."I wonder if there will be dancers there.." He was certainly done with singers.

[Moonitic]

He left!, Ken-Dall fumed to herself. And he did not even ask me to dance. She thought she gave him enough of a hint. Perhaps he was the type that only understood the "in your face" approach.

That could be arranged.

The true to form Ken-Dall's brain raced. Yes, if she played her game well, she could throw him off for the tourney tomorrow. One less competitor.

Besides, she wanted to get to know him better. And her damsel in distress act was such a good way to do so.

Yes...she'd find him...

Little did he know, she followed him from the hall. He stopped for a drink. She didn't hear what he had to say to the barkeep, or anyone else for that matter. He made his way, alone, to his lodging. He did not see her in the safety of the shadow that she hid. She watched him look around, and enter his room.

One moment, she reminded herself. Her plan would not work if he was not relaxed...

[Darion McNair]

Darion arrived in his room and undid his cloak, throwing it on a nearby chair. The room they had given him was quite homey actually. Next to the door was a table with two sets of chairs (one of which held his cloak). On the table was a candle. To his left was his bed, perpendicular to the wall and just a few steps in front of him was a wash basin and mirror.

It was very dark in his room once the door was closed but that didn't matter considering he was going to sleep. Placing his sheathed sword on the table, he collapsed on his bed, not even bothering to pull the covers over him. He couldn't sleep, for some reason he didn't feel comfortable.

So much had happened on his first day in Arconia. That he couldn't clear his mind. He met so many people, including this beautiful and intelligent woman named...well obviously she had many names. He'd become very fond of her and, no doubt, she of him but he wanted to figure her out. He knew she wanted to play this game her way. But what was true about Darion was that if he didn't understand something, he confronted it. He would break down her enigmatic exterior and get to the person she really was. He would love her for who she really was, there could be no other way.

He had felt something on his way back...eyes on him. He didn't like that feeling at all, him being someone who relishes discreetness. And it certainly did not make him want to go to sleep.

Getting up, he strapped his sword to his side once more and decided to go for a little walk. He exited his room and stepped out into the street. It was a quiet night, not much activity at all.

"Everyone must still be at the dance." he mused. But he was undaunted, he knew the eyes were still upon him...it made him feel cold and unsafe. He had to find where they were coming from.

"An assassin from Dion?" He thought. No, they did not know he was in Arconia....how could they? Suddenly there was movement in a nearby alleyway. Like lightning he drew his sword and silently moved to the corner of the alley, his back to the wall. His concentration hardened, readying for battle. He turned and, extending his arm, brought the point of his weapon roughly a foot from the persons head....it was Ken-Dall.

Shock gripping him, he dropped his sword. The clatter of it on the cobblestone street being the only sound.

"Mu-lady I'm so sorry!" He breathed, still in shock. "I assumed I was being pursued by an enemy. Please forgive me." A pang of horror set in, a thought of what could have happened. "I nearly killed you." he said, his voice wavering. Remembering she said she was a princess, he quickly dropped to one knee in a bow, his head bowed as well...he had almost killed the one he wanted most to get to know.

<small>[ 08-03-2002, 07:20 PM: Message edited by: Darion McNair ]</small>

[Blade]

Blade had mistakenly thought that today was the day of the tournament but instead found himself whisked away in a world of frivolous formalities.

Humans, he thought.

Blade of the Taalrum had an in-built distrust of any human that had not earned his trust and earned it in battle.

Blade, however, was of a new breed of the dying race called Talruum. He suffered from an affliction called Preacher's Syndrome. He showed more emotion than a Talruum ever should.

The Talruum had originally made him outcast and dubbed him a rogue for his strange ways but that day was long ago, he had since made peace with his clan.

Blade grew impatient, at the humans' lack of haste. Blade had no intention of being a ruling monarch but his warrior's blood stirred. He was the master of the Taalruum sabre and no mere human was a match for him.

Blade stretched and yawned, looking around at the dancers at the ball. He stood, shook his head, whilst idly fingering his Sabre and took his leave to prepare for the Arconian Open on the morrow (hopefully)

[arcon]

It wont be next August for I am coming back THIS
August.

arcon

[Moonitic]

Ken-Dall did not flinch. He wasn't the first to threaten her with a weapon, & surely would not be the last. In fact, she found his reaction rather amusing...& very interesting. She had never been apologized to before.

"You may rise, sir," she stated. As he did so, he kept his eyes to the ground. She moved closer to him. "Look at me." Reluctantly, he did so. He opened his lips to apologize once more, but she placed a finger to his mouth. "Shh..."

He did not know what to make of her touch. It seemed so...intimate. He could not help but stare. When he finally found his voice, he asked, "What finds you out alone on a night like this?"

Ken-Dall giggled. "You left without dancing with me. I've come to claim my dance."

"Your dance?" His stare became a puzzling look.

"Of course. You cannot lead a lady to believe that she will have the pleasure of your company, only to deny her." Ken-Dall tilted her head. "Especially when that lady is a princess."

"But, here? Now?"

"We could return to your lodging. It is rather frightening out here. And I feel so weak," she said.

A look of concern came to Darion's face. "Weak? Why?"

"Did you not hear? I am surprised, since you've heard so many other rumors about me. I had a horrible accident. Fell off a cliff into a river. They only recently found me."

"Oh...I am so sorry."

"Yes, it is terrible." Ken-Dall's thoughts briefly strayed to her sister, who actually suffered that fate. Briefly, she thought, then secretly smiled. "Terrible."

[Darion McNair]

Darion took in what she had just said, mulling it over in his mind. Her actions and attitude seemed to release the tension building up in his mind. To him, her presence was like breath of fresh air. He was tempted to believe every word she said. But something was a bit strange about all the things she was telling him. He would swallow it all for now, but he needed to know who he was dealing with.

“Of course mu-lady.” he replied. Darion replaced his sword and the two of them rounded the alley and made their way to Darion’s room. Opening the door, he left it open, grabbed the candle on his table and returned outside. He lit it on the nearest torch and returned inside, his room now lit with a soft glow. “Please, have a seat.” he said, pulling a chair out from the table. She sat down and Darion took the other seat.

“I didn’t mean to be rude and refuse you a dance but I was getting tired and I don’t usually stay up late before a tournament.” he explained, resting an elbow on the table. She nodded in understanding, though didn’t seem very pleased. “I’ve been very tense ever since I arrived in Arconia. I’m a wanted man you might say.” He took a deep breath, reluctant to reveal any personal details. “I’m a refugee from an invaded country. And apparently someone of some importance because they tried to kill me. And I believe they still might be tracking me. ” He purposely left out the part where he was in the Bosconian military. His attempt to lead an uprising was why they wanted to kill him in the first place. True he felt horrible for what he had just done, but Darion still wanted the ball in his court.

He folded his arms across his chest and casually leaned back against the wall. “So tell me of yourself.” He said, with a charming smile. “I want to know you, tell me everything.” He didn’t speak the most pressing question on his mind: If you feel so weak, why are you entering the tournament?

<small>[ 08-13-2002, 07:42 PM: Message edited by: Darion McNair ]</small>

[Moonitic]

With a sweet smile, Ken-Dall responded. "If I tell you everything now, our relationship would become boring. Wouldn't you rather learn along the way?" He did not answer, as he raised his eyebrows at her. Ken-Dall continued. "But I will tell you this; I was promised to marry a prince, but I did not wish to do so, and ran away. The father of the young man I would marry was furious, and put a price on my head." She leaned forward as she said, "I would rather die than marry without love." Ken-Dall sighed. "So much has happened to me. Horrible things. After my accident, I have had my good days as well as my bad. I long to enjoy myself once more, and perhaps enjoy a normal life." The tears she'd trained to appear over the years sprang into her eyes. She broke into sobs. Great sobs that shuddered her body.

[Darion McNair]

Her crying struck a chord with Darion. Her head in her hands and he