“In honor of Maskirio, our master and liberator, we shall partake of this food in gratitude to all sentient beings of this world ” Dana recited with closed eyes, intertwining her fingers, as did her children Gabran and Olivrin, and her niece, Luciara of Salamandra.
“Sohen.”
They pronounced in unison as the concluding note to the brief yet essential prayer. Shortly after, they proceeded to savor the food laid out on the table.
How much time has passed already? Luciara wondered, manipulating her utensils with a certain unease. An hour and a bit more… She confirmed, checking the hands of a pendulum clock in the middle of the room. They won't join us for the meal.
Resigned, she accepted. She observed her plate: a combination of boiled white rice, beans bathed in their thick purple juice, stewed strips of reddish meat, and finally, slices of grilled plantain. Without exception, all four portions were infused with fragrant spices that tempted even the most discerning palate.
Four Colors. The young woman identified it easily. It was the traditional dish of Najta, whose qualities had managed to captivate even the elvireans and ayarians who had converged in the region for centuries.
She forced herself to take the first bite, but not even its exquisite blend of flavors could alleviate her distress about her uncle's uncertain fate and, especially, her false escort.
Does he really stand a chance of ending up in the dungeons?
Just as she was about to resume eating, something interrupted her and the others. Someone had just opened and closed the door of the house with a key. Shortly after, he appeared before them with a companion.
“Bon appétit,” he said, forcing a smile with closed lips. It was General Chatel Chatel, accompanied by the wandering knight "Ser Marlon of Amberfalls."
“Charlen!”
Brimming with joy, Dana stood up to greet him along with her two sons. The fact that both had returned so soon to share lunch with them was an unexpected but pleasant surprise.
“How did it go? We were very worried about both of you,” she said, getting straight to the point.”Did Renardin take any reprisals against you?”
“No,” the General summarized with sober calm, wanting to avoid the controversial details with his family at all costs. He preferred to postpone them for a different moment than the long-awaited peaceful lunch. “I was able to reach an agreement with him.”
It seems everything went well. Luciara sighed in relief, observing both without moving from her chair. A joy that quickly faded as the knight's amethyst eyes sought hers. She averted them, crossing her arms with an unfriendly gesture.
As childish as ever. Mavros thought, unsure whether to laugh or feel embarrassed.
As much as he forced himself to repudiate her behavior, deep down, he couldn't deny that he found it entertaining, especially when her true feelings were so obvious. An affinity that, nevertheless, had prompted their hasty separation, one he regretted seeing postponed. He was obliged to remain lodged there under the General's custody during the days of the Eh-Nam Tournament.
Gabran led him and his father to the table.
“Take a seat; we'll serve your dishes shortly.”
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“What are you waiting for, young man? Why don't you take off that armor? How can you eat like that?” Dana said to the knight, observing him with perplexity, as did her two sons. He devoured his plate with such enthusiasm that he forgot his usual manners.
“I'm used to eating with it. It doesn't bother me in the slightest,” he clarified, showing her his smiling mouth, the only exposed part of his helmet. “I understand it might seem strange to you, but don't worry.”
Just like with Ser Janpelan, this explanation only deepened the bewilderment of the diners.
“Ser Marlon follows a rather strict personal training regimen... It requires him not to remove his armor unless absolutely necessary.” Luciara intervened, seated right beside him. She made her best effort to make that justification sound convincing.
“Really?” Olivrin said. This detail made that peculiar guest even more mysterious.
“How passionate…” commented Gabran, with a touch of irony. “I've known all kinds of soldiers and Holy Warriors, and none of them practices such a ritual.”
Luciara shot a murderous look at the knight. She followed it with a discreet but treacherous elbow nudge.
How dare you to bring that nonsense here too? My uncles and cousins might not take it as lightly as my father! She retorted inwardly. A stern but futile reprimand since Mavros was too absorbed in what remained of his food to notice her attempts to draw attention. The elbow nudge was reduced by his breastplate to an almost imperceptible touch on his skin.
But the young woman was right to have such concerns.
A ‘strict regimen’... my cannon balls. Chatel Chatel coldly analyzed the knight as he poured his beloved Du Clar into a glass. Luckily, he had another bottle of the wine in his cupboard to replace the one ruined by Olivrin. ‘Ser Marlon of Amberfalls’... if that is indeed your real name. Where do you come from, and where are you headed? He questioned in his thoughts, taking a slow and deep sip.
“Aaah…” Meanwhile, Mavros exhaled, exhausted and satisfied.
“If you didn't like the Four Colors, I could have served you something else, Ser Marlon.” Dana joked, pleased to notice that he was the first to finish, leaving not a single crumb on his plate. When it came to food, the wandering knight showed his appreciation more with actions than words.
“Verily, it was a feast. Thy kitchen appears to be of celestial lineage, my Lady,” he confirmed in a polite tone.
“Thank you.” The Lady responded with pride.
The next to finish was her husband minutes later, who, as soon as he did, stood up.
“De bon gú.” he praised her in his own language, bidding her farewell with a short kiss on her cheek.
“Charlen?” Dana said, watching as he gathered his things. The silence he had maintained until then had unnerved her. He was a man filled with responsibilities, but he never used it as an excuse to act so distant with his own family on occasions like these. “Are you leaving already?”
“Yes. I've heard about some urgent incidents that have arisen regarding the Maskirian Week,” he informed his wife. He looked at his children and guests. “I'll be tending to them all afternoon. See you tonight,” he focused on the knight. “Ser Marlon, you're coming with me. There's something you need to do.”
Mavros nodded. He stood up to join him. Chatel Chatel turned and proceeded to leave the room with his companion, but not without giving a meaningful look over his shoulder at Gabran. The actor raised his own glass: he had received the secret message.
It's very strange; he's hiding something from us, Dana sensed, eyeing with suspicion the corner of the threshold through which her husband and the knight had left. Could it be related to that 'agreement' he reached with Renard?... How bad could it be?
“Luciara, did you have plans for today?” Gabran asked her cousin, attempting to dispel the uneasy atmosphere that had settled in with his father's premature departure.
“I was planning to study and take a stroll, but nothing specific,” she replied. Originally, she had intended to spend the whole day looking for accommodation, but her uncle's invitation completely disrupted her schedule. “Why?”
“I can take you to see the university after we finish eating,” her cousin said. “Since it's Soladi, it won't be as crowded as usual. And if you want to prepare for exams, you have free access to its library despite not being a student.”74Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡDRLfkwTTQL
The proposal excited the young woman. She had seen the university from the outside before.
“I'd love to,” she agreed without hesitation. “I've never seen it from the inside.”
“I'll join you,” Dana informed them.
“Can I come too?” Olivrin asked.
His mother and brother turned to him, undecided.
“Don't you have any school assignments pending, Olivrin?” Dana inquired.
“No, no, I finished them all yesterday. You all have been asking me the same thing,” he clarified, crossing his arms in exasperation at what already seemed like widespread mistrust. “If you don't believe me, I can go fetch them to prove it.”
Gabran and his mother smiled at his reaction.
“No need, we trust your honesty,” his older brother told him, stopping him with a gesture. He looked at his mother, seeking her opinion. In the end, she had the final say.
“Okay, you can come,” she finally allowed. “But don't separate from any of the three, okay?”
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“You let them go?!” The Minister of Interior of the Kingdom of Grianz, Jan Batrand, protested to her king, hitting the dining table at the Royal Palace.
Her daughter, Sublieutenant Docemin of the Holy House of Lis, and her two friends, the Cotores twins, were shaken by a displeasure so great that it almost made them vomit the delicacies they had indulged in.
His Majesty Renardin remained calm, unruffled by the adverse but predictable reaction to the news he had just shared in this private lunch, organized to celebrate the swift liberation of the three young Holy Warriors.
“How can you be so lenient with that ‘Man At Axes’ son of a whore after what he did today?!” her minister continued reproaching him. “And not only that! You did nothing to that fake knight either!”
“That ‘son of a whore’ is the closest thing I have to a brother, and alongside Ser Cotores, he is one of my best generals. I owe him my life, and his experience is as valuable to me as all the nefeshic crystal in these domains,” Renardin said, savoring one of the many desserts at his disposal like a child, a pleasure he rarely allowed himself. “He made a big folly, but he will rectify it.”
He paused to lick the sweetness off his fingers. Then, he gave his counselor a somber and intimidating look, like the blade of a scythe.
“You are free to be as furious as you want, but you will not convince me to dispose of him. I demand that you never disrespect him like that in my presence ever again.”
Jan and her proteges swallowed hard. Despite being some of the people he held in highest esteem, His Majesty had just threatened all four of them with the same force with which he used to intimidate his prisoners of war.
“Besides, you didn't let me finish speaking, my Lady,” the king clarified. “Allowing that insolent knight to leave for now does not mean his offense will go unpunished. The fool has willingly sought his death.”
His onlookers blinked a couple of times, expecting to hear what he meant.
“The idiot isn't even a Holy Warrior, but he has accepted to enter the Eh-Nam Tournament as an independent competitor to atone for his crime.”
The Minister and the young Holy Warriors opened their mouths, dumbfounded.
“Is that...?”
“...true?”
The twins murmured, much more incredulous than their companions.
“I'm not joking; I found it hard to believe too,” the king reaffirmed, smirking. “His ‘great feat’ has gotten to his head. Now he thinks he's worthy of measuring himself against the best of the new generations of the Holy Houses.”
Renel and Cyprain shook their heads in secondhand embarrassment. As former participants, they knew how fierce the duels could be, and even with all the rules in place to protect the Holy Warriors, fatal accidents occasionally happened among them. More than laughable, the audacity of their former executioner seemed like an immature and suicidal provocation.
“I judged your decision hastily... I owe you an apology, Your Majesty,” Lady Jan said with a slight bow, then intertwining her fingers maliciously. “If it pleases you, I could ask our contacts to match him as soon as possible with one of our kingdom's favorites. He must be crushed in his first duel.”
“Unfortunately, that won't be possible... at least not in the first encounter,” the king denied her, to her disappointment. “I've learned that a few days ago, another independent contestant registered, the only one of this edition alongside that fool. We are forced to match him with the ‘knight’ in his first encounter, by a general rule of martial arts tournaments. Ignoring it would be too blatant a violation that not even our own allies would let pass.”
Another independent contestant?! That revelation intrigued the young Holy Warriors even more than the participation of the knight.
“Do you know who the other lunatic is?” Jan asked, genuinely curious.
“No idea... Some poor devil from that insignificant island next to Anglion, Tibarnia, or something like that. Another loser refusing to die from natural causes, I suppose,” he replied. “But the important thing is that if he turns out to be an even worse fool than the arrogant knight, and the knight manages to defeat him, we can prepare an opponent to annihilate him in his second encounter.”
The king opened his hand in front of him.
“The problem is, I can't decide who. I have many candidates in mind for that privilege…” he lowered each of his fingers. “I wouldn't even mind if it turns out to be a warrior from our allied Houses...”
Someone stood up from the table just as the king closed all his fingers into a fist.
“I'll do it!” she volunteered with an exclamation.
Docemin?! Her friends and her mother turned toward her.
“I didn't plan to participate in this year's edition. I wanted to use this year to gain experience and enter the next one with better chances, but now I have a good reason to do it.” the Subliutenant said.
“Don't be foolish!” Cyprain reproached her. “We all know how outstanding your level is. You were third in your class last year, and you were the best in pyromantic arts, but even that is not enough for you to win the tournament.”
“There are going to be many competitors better than you,” Renel added. “You need to train more!”
“Cyprain and Renel are right!” her mother backed them up. “Don't rush into this! Remember that the Eh-Nam Tournament is special. You can only participate in it once!”
Docemin turned to them, with a determined expression that made it clear she had no intention of changing her mind.
“Don't you understand? Now, the least I care about is winning. I couldn't care less about how far I can go, and if I can't participate again,” she asserted. She looked at the twins. “All I want is to avenge your humiliation!”
Docemin…
Everyone was left speechless.
Moved by her resolution, Renel brought his right hand to his teary eyes, wiping away a couple of tears that threatened to fall.
King Renardin nodded, very pleased. “I don't mind at all, not at all. I'm sure you're going to uphold the name of the women of our homeland and the Holy House of Lis,” His Majesty opined. “I'll find a spot for you. You're going to give hell to that damn knight.”74Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡXaesg556W4
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Mavros admired the majestic buildings along the wide street as General Chatel Chatel led him. The numerous copies of the wanted poster adorning the walls brought more than one smile to his face. It was exactly the same and vague about the "Abiyr de Cirencre" as he had seen before.
Between the hashlit we got on and what we've walked, it's been almost forty minutes, he calculated, returning his attention to his guide in front of him. Where is he taking me? What does he want me to do there? he wondered. He had wanted to ask him that and many other questions, but the lack of privacy during the journey and the cold attitude the general had adopted since lunch made him hesitate.
An attitude driven by concerns very similar to those he harbored.
“Were you raised in this world?” Chatel Chatel ventured to ask as soon as he noticed they were almost alone, without the risk of being overheard. “You are very well integrated into our society for someone coming from the Green Moon.”
What? Mavros didn't know how to react to such eccentric and unexpected inquiries. “I comprehend thee not,” he replied, with a hesitant laugh. “What art thou talking about, Ser?”
The General looked at him over his shoulder, quite serious.
“Don't play ignorant with me, please,” he said. “I know you are the real ‘Abiyr of Cirencre.’”
ns 172.70.100.185da2
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