A Visit to the Archives - Loraith, 27 Samheen TT

[Sebastian Beauvais]

Even Loraith's improved mood couldn't shield him from the perceptible tension that hung over Cerleann as he walked to the palace. There was nothing overt to speak to the cause, but rather a plethora of little hints that added up to something brooding, something dangerous. A sidelong glance from a gruff human teamster; the sound of nervous laughter from three well-dressed adhiel ladies gathered in a cafe, flanked by steely-eyed bodyguards; the clear separation between pockets of customers on a busy side lane; the sharp precision of the patrolling pairs of city guardsmen, glaive butts clacking on cobblestones in rigid unison. The city seem in supreme focus, as though crystalline, and just as fragile.

He crossed over the river to the eastern shore, and with the palace rising above the surrounding city made his way without delay to the castle precinct. Surely there, within the protected walls of Kislovani royalty, the sense of foreboding doom that stole through Cerleann's streets would be left behind.

[Sebastian Beauvais]

The Great Palace of Kislovan is perched on a small hill overlooking the coast on the eastern side of the River Cerl. Its colonnaded approach runs up the hillside through terraced gardens, kept lush and gorgeous by the Shaper Royal, Master Bandir; nature and artifice beautifully entwined. The sounds of bird song fill the air, even as the heady fragrance of tropical blossoms drifts on the warm breeze.

Surrounding the walled palace, in truth a highly decorated castle, is what at first glance appears to be an ordinary small lake, as if it is merely a large reflecting pool in the gardens. However, it server a definite defensive function, for it is a moat, crossed only by a red and black lacquered wooden bridge which could apparently be retracted if the palace were to come under attack, although the mechanism for this was well concealed. Yet the simple beauty of the lake and bridge in this setting obscures their practicality.

The high, unyielding exterior walls are softened in appearance by plaster in off-white, and topped with large half-circles, painted in patterns of blues and purples. Here is one place where vegetation had not been encouraged, or even allowed, to grow. The barbican can be sealed off, as is evinced by the ivory tips of a stout wooden portcullis showing across the top of the broad opening. This traditional gateway opens into an inner garden court, rather than a bailey; a more intimate floral experience than beyond the walls. Tropical birds and blossoms abound; a wondrous experience for the senses.

The palace itself is of several storeys, differing from point to point, making it a cacophony of varying roof-lines, including several domes of varying sizes, plastered and painted in blue, green and gold, as well as tiled roofs. The walls are also plastered in off-white and decorated with painted friezes in geometric designs in brown, red and blue. Plants seem to be growing on parts of the roofs and on balconies, making it look as if the structure is alive with vegetation.

Long, broad steps lead up to a colonnaded entry that appears to be formed by trees forming a canopy above the huge wooden double doors. The gilded doors soar well over twice the height of the average Adhiel, and stand open during public hours, welcoming visitors into the vast entrance chamber known as the Great Hall. This chamber, its ceiling forming the first dome, is a huge open space, broken only by plastered and painted columns. Clerestory windows bathe the space in natural light, augmented by lamps hung on the columns. The Great Hall’s walls are hung with brightly coloured fabrics, depicting historical and mythological scenes; works of great art and craftsmanship. Potted trees and flowering plants flourish even here.

Here the nobility and wealthier merchants and artisans mingle, the buzz of conversation rarely pausing during public hours. Deals are struck, fortunes made and lost, as the vague scent of incense and the nearly invisible servants weave their way through the chamber. Not all who gather here are awaiting a royal audience. Indeed, there are those who merely come to see and be seen, or hear and be heard.

“Eabh ta seodhiu inaidha,” a young woman called in greeting, sweeping into an appropriately gauged curtsy. She was clad in the traditional sari, and the pale green of the cotton fabric declared her position as a servant of the palace. “How may a Page of the Great Palace be of service to you?” she asked Loraith, with a polite smile.

[Guest]

"Good day" Loraith began forcing a smile onto his face, "I wonder if you might point me in the direction of the archives?" He stayed there his hands clasped behind his back looking about. This place made him uncomfortable, he felt like he should not be here, or he should at least be offering drinks to Adhiel or something similar. And being half of each race he did not feel he belonged in the tension, should he be with the humans or the Adhiel, on the one hand the humans would likely treat him better but the Adhiel offered more rewards.

So many difficult questions presented themselves. In the end he realised he wanted to serve himself and above all he wanted to gain power and wealth, it came as a suprise to him that he would turn against the Adhiel for this goal. But his recent realisations about Adhiel society had made him this way. He would see how things panned out, still he could not help thinking that both the Adhiel and the humans would quite happily beat him to a pulp given half a chance and no repercussions. So he locked his gaze on the page and waited for his answer. He would then move in the direction indicated and find these bloody archives, he would look about and see what happened.

[Sebastian Beauvais]

"Of course, master," replied the page, a gentle smile on her face. If she sensed Loraith's unease she gave no indication. "If you will follow me, I shall lead you there myself."

The young adhiel guided her charge off to the left from the Great Hall, taking Loraith down a side hallway only slightly less decorated than the main entrance itself. As with the Great Hall, this corridor was hung with brightly coloured tapestries that shone in the natural light flooding through the tall windows along the left wall of the passageway. Doors of warm, polished teak stood at various intervals on the right, decorated with gleaming brushed brass fittings, and beneath their feet the flagstones had been burnished by the passage of thousands of feet.

The Archives were not exactly close to the Great Hall, so their path wound onward, through less spectacularly decorated halls, along a columned portico that overlooked a lush private garden, and even up and down a handful of steps. Nothing demonstrated the varying tastes of the previous rulers of Kislovan than the variety of architectural styles through which Loraith and the page passed.

Finally they turned into a broad hallway, at the end of which stood a tall set of double doors. A brass plaque was affixed to the wall beside the closed doors, and as the two drew near the young woman smiled back at Loraith and flourished her hand at the name scriven there. "The Royal Archives, master." The page opened the door and ushered Loraith in, before pulling the portal shut behind him.

Inside the Archives, dark wood and quiet lamplight dominated. Although there were tall windows set high on the back walls of the main room in which Loraith stood, the faint light they allowed to reach the dark wooden floor was merely ornamental. Square paneling lined the walls immediately after the doors, and a handful of display cases protecting documents and tomes were arranged in the small foyer that preceded the larger bulk of the archives. Where the room opened up beyond the foyer, several reference tables could be seen interspersed between orderly rows of shelves and cabinets.

Exactly at this transition from entrance foyer to the archives proper sat a wide lectern, behind which sat an aged adhiel. His wispy hair was silvered gold and his frame slight even for one of the people, but his grey eyes were sharp and full of intelligence. When Loraith first entered the man was scribbling something in a ledger on the lectern, but he looked up at the sound of the door and set down his quill almost immediately.

"Good tradetide," he greeted Loraith in a reedy voice, his inquisitive eyes fairly drinking up the achadhiel. "I am Talfryn Sanithiel, Master Archivist. How may I be of assistance?"

[Guest]

Loraith was perhaps the biggest meglomaniac on Kislovan, as he walked down the halls of the Palace his mind was drawn to his recent plans. His ideas to romance the Queen to become the King and then to launch a war of crusade against his neighbours. How glorious it would have been, how marvellous being able to walk down these halls knowing you owned them would be. Instead he was an uneasy guest, he felt any moment people would realise he was merely a nobody and would fling him from the place. He knew not where he was in socity, was he ranked above the girl who walked in front of him? Or was he but an average human on the streets?

All these questions and more besides occupied Loraith as he entered the archives. As the door closed behind him his ever fickle mind had just encountered the subject of punching Morenduir in the mouth and as Loraith relished it he was torn back to reality. "Oh yes I am Lord Loraith Kasvenir, cousin to Lady Rilana of House Cullàmh, I am thinking of starting my own Vinyard and want to have a little peak at the archived win laws of Kislovan, with my families trading links I may export as well so I had best see the papers concerning the export of wine." He smiled rather pleased with his story.

[Sebastian Beauvais]

"Cousin to the Lady Rilana, are you?" echoed the archivist, his eyes narrowing even more shrewdly. "Well, a lot of families have been thinned out, after the desert."

"No matter, no matter," he said, slipping off the chair and grabbing a gnarled wooden cane that was propped behind the lectern. "Wine laws, is it? You will be growing and making the wine?" The adhiel nodded to himself, picking out the proper shelves in his mind. "And export laws as well? Nothing like ambition, I suppose."

"Very well, Lord Loraith Kasvenir of House Cullàmh, if you would follow me?" And with that the archivist set off in a slightly hobbling gait, somehow spry despite his reliance on the cane.

The pair walked down the main aisle, past the reference tables and several rows of shelves jammed with neatly partitioned tomes and thick folders of parchment, the records of yahren upon yahren of Kislovani society. It was quiet save for their own footsteps on the polished hardwood floor and the accompanying clack of the Master Sanithiel's cane, despite even the occasional assistant spied down one of the rows.

Finally the elderly adhiel pulled up at a row of shelves and motioned for Loraith to follow. Three steps in and on the bottom shelf sat a leather-bound tome at least a handspan wide. The archivist rested his cane against the shelves, bent down and wrestled the large book from the shelf. "Here we are then, Kislovani laws dealing with the manufacture of alcoholic spirits. There is also a section of codicils on holdings kept exclusively for growing the raw ingredients." Talfryn passed the heavy book to Loraith, before rescuing his cane and pointing his way back out into the main aisle. "You can set that on a table for now, if you wish."

The archivist then crossed the aisle to a row of shelves even deeper in the room, coming at last to a spot about halfway down and pleasantly at shoulder height. From there he withdrew a folder tied with red ribbon containing perhaps thirty sheets of parchment neatly tucked inside. "The last two trading conventions for Kislovani wine products," he said, offering the folder to Loraith.

"Now, is there anything else I can help you with, m'lord?"

[Guest]

Loraith smiled at the Adhiel's insult at him and nodded in agreement, "Indeed it seems a shame that so many Adhiel perished and hopeless reprobates like myself survived, save your sympathy for Lady Rilana she has to count me as a close relative now." He shook his head sadly, self deprication he felt was a good tactic so these Adhiel underestimated him.

He decided to add a little bit of a backstory to his intital excuse to make himself appear more geniuine, he also did not want this chap to recall him and trace him to Rilana when he realised the document was missing. It would make the whole plot rather obvious and he did not want Rilana being implicated in his mistake. "I have some money an aunt of mine left me and I thought I would put it to use, in truth my cousin being of good breeding and sense refuses to speak to me and I make sure I do not trouble her." He smiled, "All I can do is try to add to the economy, although as you say ambition is good to have, I doubt I shall ever export my own wine, perhaps it shall be on the tables of half reputable taverns, or I can only hope anyway." He smiled and followed the man slowly.

When the man spoke to Loraith he smiled and nodded gently, "Yes could I first have a few small sheets of paper to make some notes, he smiled and waited, as soon as the man was gone he would get up and check out the area, he would like to know about other exists to this place. He still had to decide if he was to steal the thing now or later. He would also look at the nearby shelves, after all it would be more prudent to fill the file with blank paper and other random papers to make the discovery of the missing file take a little while.

[Sebastian Beauvais]

"Certainly, Lord Kasvenir. I shall have pen, paper and ink brought to you shortly," responded the archivist smartly. Judging from the condition of a few tables, where the polish had preserved rather than hidden rings and blotches of dark ink, it was hardly an unusual request. "One of the assistants shall tend to your need shortly."

With a slight bow Master Sanithiel left the achadhiel to his own affairs, retreating back up the main aisle to his perch at the lectern. The clack of his cane stopped only once along the way, and Loraith could see him conferring briefly with a younger adhiel assistant, the two of them glancing briefly down the hall to where he waited. Then the assistant disappeared down a side row and the clack-clack-clack resumed until Talfryn had reached his station and once again settled upon his raised seat.

Even with his brief introduction to the main hall of the Royal Archives, it was easy for Loraith to see that there were plenty of other folders and sheaves containing loose documents. If he was interested in trying some sort of switch to hide the fact there were pages missing, he certainly wouldn't lack for raw materials.

The assistant reappeared soon enough, bearing a small tray which he set on the table beside Loraith. Place on the tray were several sheets of blank paper, two pens, a penknife and a small, stoppered inkwell. The apprentice archivist, a young adhiel lad with golden hair, a blemished face and narrow green eyes, bowed silently to the achadhiel and then departed, disappearing within flickers amidst the tall jungle of shelves. Loraith was left with only the documents and the hall's silence as companions.

[Guest]

No use in rushing and arousing suspicion thought Loraith as he blakly stared at the alien texts before him. While his halfsisters and brothers had been busy in their lessons he had been expelled to serve with the guard and learn military skills. He regretted it now that much was for sure, hidden power lay in books and he felt he lacked the key to open them. Still as long as the papers in the pretty file were the ones he needed he was fine. He realised that it would be pointless but he spent a mark or so either trying to recognise words from his short early education or match words with any pictures that appeared. It would give him a little satisfaction.

After half and hour he would stand and move round a corner into a side row with the pretty file, he could perfom his plan in any area where he was not watched. He would roll up the thirty pages of parchment and push them inside his sword scabbard, then returning to the table briefly pretending to get a reference he would subtly pour some of the ink inside the scabbard to make the evidence unrecognisable. Naturally this would all be done slowly perhaps broken up with period of sitting and studying the book again. Then taking the file he would go to a hidden spot again and take random papers from elsewhere until he had about thirty inside the file. He would then return to the table with another book just to make his random dissapearances look like they had a decent reason. Then he would try hard to look studious. Finally he would wait, glancing up on occasion to see if the archivist or his assistant consiatantly stood in the same area. If this was the case then he would have to think, if ever they both left him along and with a free view of the door, the books would be placed on the table along with roughly three other files retreived from the shelf. Then the now fake trade treaties would be placed between two tomes on another far away shelf to make them harder to locate. He hoped with the abundance of files on the table it would make them less mindful of the trade treaty. Then it would be a case of walking out confidently and yet not rushing. He did not want a load of archivists chasing him but he was more than ready to run if they did!

[Sebastian Beauvais]

After nearly three quarters of a mark staring at the alien scrawls most learned folk called writing, Loraith was pretty sure he'd deciphered the pattern of scratches that denoted "Kislovan", and also thought another combination probably meant "the". The whole exercise was very frustrating of course, because even recognizing consistent patterns of the ink-bound code didn't impart understanding.

During that time, although one assistant or another appeared briefly, exiting from one aisle and disappearing down another, Loraith was left alone save for Talfryn sitting quietly at his lectern. The old adhiel was studiously bent over his book and the scratch of his pen upon paper was consistent, and seemingly never-ending.

Rising to put his plan into motion, the achadhiel cupped the folder of loose parchment sheets in his hand and sauntered down a nearby aisle, conveniently absent of any prying eyes. There he removed a raft of sheets, roughly half the contents of the folder, and rolled them up into a sort of squashed cylinder. Then, slipping his gleaming blade from its tooled metal sheath, Loraith tried to slide the sheets down into the narrow slot - and was foiled.

Even with only half the pages in hand, he couldn't cram them into the scabbard. And seeing as how he needed to replace his sword as well, he would have to lower that number even farther. A quick bit of experimentation revealed perhaps only five or six sheets would fit into his sheath and still leave enough room for his sword to slide back in. That left almost twenty-five sheets still unclaimed, laying in the folder.

Still alone in the aisle between shelves, it was clear Loraith would have to adapt his plan if he were to successfully sneak out all thirty sheets of the documents.

[Guest]

Loraith put his eyes upwards and sword under his breath, he replaced the sheets in the file as the by now familiar sensation of failure washed over him. How he despised this, his mind became blank as he thought of a method to work this all out. He silently slipped his sword back into the sheath and moved back over to his table. Putting the papers down he sat again, he pretended to look over the papers but really he was trying to come across a plan. His problem now was simple, how could he sneak these documents out of the place, it would be obvious who has perform the steal, it would be obvious it would be his fault. He was almost past caring, let them hang him see what difference it made. He was fed up of Kislovan, fed up of Rilana and fed up of this bloody file that was causing him so much trouble.

He decided that he could not move the documents out, so he began to sketch a basic map of the room including the able and all the little hallways. After the rough map had been completed Loraith would venture over to the archivists table, and with a lightly smile begin, "I say my Lord I have finished looking at the export treaties, I will spend a small amount of time with the other documents still however." His plan was of course to view the fellow put the file back and then mark it on his map so any hired criminal could pilfer the document, he held out the file to the archivist and smiled hoping the man would put it away now as opposed to later.

[Sebastian Beauvais]

Master Archivist Talfryn looked up from his ledger, which he was still steadily filling with entries, and peered at Loraith with his intent gaze. "All done then, Lord Kasvenir? I trust you found what you were looking for? Very well, I'll have Samianth file that away for you. Just call him when you are done with the bound volume as well."

Setting down his quill, Talfryn made to hop down from his stool and go search out the apprentice when the very youth who had brought Loraith the writing equipment appeared from between the first row of shelves with two slender, leather-bound books in hand. With the delight only afforded an elder in power, Talfryn smiled and called over the young adhiel to tend to Loraith's documents.

From there it was a simple matter to saunter back to his table, following the golden-haired apprentice archivist and noting where the folder was specifically stored - in this case, bottom shelf three spaces to the right of the big red volume with gold lettering. With the location firmly in mind, Loraith was able to retreat to his seat and make a show of copying something down from the volume that still remained open in front of him, when in fact he was adding the crucial bit of information to his home-made map.

A little more than a mark later seemed safe enough for the pretense to end, and Loraith was again able to flag down Samianth and have him shelve the last of the documents. Bidding Talfryn goodbye on the way out, Loraith exited the Archives with map safely hidden away and the knowledge of where his fortune, or perhaps his cousin's fortune, lay.
---------------

The palace hadn't seemed that confusing when Loraith had followed the page through the twisting halls on their way in, but there was no doubt he'd taken a wrong turn somewhere on his way out for the corridor in which he found himself was most certainly brand new to him.

Not far ahead the hall brightened as one wall opened onto an interior courtyard of some sort. The distinctive chiming of metal on metal drifted down the corridor toward the achadhiel, and the grunts of exertion that spoke of martial activities. A few steps closer and he overheard a conversation taking place just out of sight.

"How soon d'you expect, Lieutenant?" one voice asked matter-of-factly.

"Probably not before sunset," came the reply. "Besides, these things always appear grander to the idiots who start them in the middle of the night, with lots of torches throwing horrific glares. We'll be on high alert come mid-eveningtide and beyond, I figure."

"All we needed, another incident! The city must be ready to erupt."

As Loraith finally made it far enough down the hallway, he could see two adhiel guardsmen speaking near the steps that led up from the courtyard. Both were dressed in the working uniforms of the guard, although one appeared to be an officer of some sort. Beyond the two a group of perhaps twenty guardsmen practiced in unison, their swords and glaives flashing through regimented kata. Hearing his approach, the two conversing adhiel stopped and looked at the newcomer with curious eyes.

[Guest]

Loraith felt rather elated at his plan working. Indeed the stress came off his mind very easily as soon as he was walking freely away from the archives, indeed for a moment he was lost in thought. In actual fact he was contemplating marching into the house, hoisting Alu onto his shoulder and carrying her to his boudoire for a bout of lovemaking in celebration. Then there was Rilana, the woman who could unlock so many doors for him. All he had to do was find some Adhiel or educated human burglar to steal the papers, perhaps he would employ a burglar full time as a tough, someone like that would be useful to have about.

His mind was taken back into the embrace of reality by clashing metal and with no a small degree of intrest he saw the soldiers practicing. He looked somewhat hopeful for a minute imagining himself drilling them in the ways of war before leading them on some parade before the Queen. But he soon realised he was being watched and a dilemma appeared to him. He was a Lord of Kislovan, a relative of her most serene highness the Queen and yet he was an Achadhiel, was he above these Adhiel or below them? He wanted to appear arrogant that much was true but to the right people, he could do without enemies in the military, after all he did have an idea to ask Rilana to get him a comission.

He decided to try and be friendly, after all they were not berating him. Though he must look somewhat important, he was clean, his hair was nearly tied behind him with a black ribbon and his clothing was evidently that of a nobleman. He gave a curt bow of the head to the two men firstly to at least give an impression of subservience if they desired that, he felt that a little namesdropping would do him no harm, "Oh I am dreadfully sorry to disturb you, but I am afraid I have taken a wrong turn and became rather confused." He cast another glance at the troops training, "I presume you are the Queen's Guardsmen, I myself served with the army but not in any prestigious position, and any career of mine was cut short by my family wanting me back to help them at court." He cast another furtive gaze at the training men, his own hand unconsciously going to his sword hilt and stroking it gently. "I say could one of your point me in the direction of the entrance?" His question was only half-hearted, really he was interested in these guardsmen, they seemed to be pretty well drilled, he doubted he could stand up to them even.

[Sebastian Beauvais]

The two soldiers exchanged a short glance after Loraith had finished his somewhat foppish address, some unspoken message passing between them in the merest of flickers. The less decorated of them cleared his throat and quickly snapped to attention before excusing himself. "I'll see that we're ready, Lieutenant," he said smartly, before turning to Loraith. "M'lord," was all he said, albeit with respect, and then with a salute he strode off to supervise the ongoing training.

The lieutenant turned his full attention on Loraith. The adhiel officer was well-built for one of his race and wore the confidence of youth like a suit of armour. He was armed only with the traditional short curved sword of the Kislovani guard. His golden-green eyes accented an attractive face framed by neat waves of copper coloured hair that flowed to his shoulders, held back from his face by a beaten copper circlet. With a gaze that squarely met Loraith's, the soldier addressed the achadhiel's query.

"There is nothing to apologize for, my lord," he replied easily, used to speaking with those in authority. "We were merely discussing casual matters while my command trains. As you guessed, we are a unit of the Royal Guard - from the Seawall company. I am Ceallachan Daethandir - Lieutenant of the Seawall." The adhiel soldier spoke with pride as he described his command and his title.

"If you wish the quickest exit from the palace," the lieutenant continued, ascending the intervening stairs and joining Loraith in the hallway, "then carry on in this direction and turn at the second hallway on your left. Go through the door at the end and follow that hall to the right. It will lead you to the Great Hall, where you no doubt entered."

They were simple directions, yet the soldier looked expectantly at Loraith to make sure he'd caught it. Something about his introduction had left Lieutenant Daethandir a little suspicious of Loraith's capabilities.

"Is there anything else I can help you with, my lord?"

[Guest]

Loraith nodded with an idle smile of a man who knows his position and can gain respect without meriting it, the respect accorded to him swelled his breast and certainly did a lot og good for his spirits. He turned to his new companion and met the gaze, his tongue came out and ran along his lower lip as he sized him up. He tilted his head as he took in the contours of his face and smiled, "Well Master Daethandir, to have such a prestigious command at such a young age you must have talent." he smiled, and then cast a further glance at the troops training.

"I have not trained in a military fashion for some time, I would like to ask while I am here if we might have a brief spar you and I?" He smiled, "If for nothing else than to loosen my sword arm and allow me to indulge in a practice I have been unable to participate in." He took in the Adhiel again, "Of course if you are busy I should not like to deprive the unit of its commander for such a frivolus reason, just idle fancy is all." He clasped his hands behind his back and awaited, it was worth asking he reasoned and he was intrigued how his swordplay compared to these guardsmen.

[Sebastian Beauvais]

The young lieutenant was taken aback by Loraith's request. Clearly it was not something he expected of the achadhiel. Slanted brows drawn close, he struggled to find an answer.

"My lord is kind to say so," he began in response to Loraith's compliment, "but we do have a bit of an incident underway right now. I'm not sure..." he paused, casting a quick glance back over at the troop as it moved through the training exercise as one. They appeared ready, and Ceallachan had great trust and faith in his underlings. If his unit was called upon, he knew they would answer ably.

And what of this lord before him? The achadhiel had not even introduced himself yet, and was asking to spar with him. Was there something more to all this? Had the captain set this up perhaps, a test of sorts? Or perhaps retribution for his success in the Mess two nights before, where he'd had a lucky run of cards? That might be it exactly...and if so, the Captain had planned well. Ceallachan Daethandir backed down from no challenge.

"Then again, my lord, we have not been ordered to duty quite yet," the lieutenant said, his mind changed. His golden-green eyes slipped to Loraith's long sword, considering how he would tackle the longer weapon, but decided that was all part of the challenge. "Perhaps a little light entertainment for the troops would be just the thing."

The officer stepped aside slightly and motioned for Loraith to accompany him down the short flight of stairs leading to the training courtyard. "Before we commence though," he asked as they made their way, "I must ask you to identify yourself. I would be remiss if I were simply to engage without knowledge of who my opponent is."

[Guest]

Loraith gave a silent cry of joy as the challenge was accepted, he was slightly worried about getting an injury but decided he had enough skill to at least be competetive, so he followed the Adhiel slowly. When asked to identiry himself he nodded gently and smiled, "I am Lord Loraith Kasvenir of Kislovan, cousin to Achroiliel Rilana, Lady Master of the Seas Matriach of Family Cullàmh. Relative to her most serene highness Altaroien Calmeann." He gave a bow, "At your service, now I hope I shall be able to compete with a trained officer of the guard, I warn you I am a little rusy, but please do not go easy on me because of my station, if you defeat me quickly I shall take it as a sign that I must work harder." He flexed slightly limbering up and drew his blade, he held it down in his right hand so it just touched the floor and made a slight scratching sound when he moved, "Shall we say till either of us yeild?" He waited for the man to make clear the rules and then they could begin.

[Sebastian Beauvais]

"It is a distinct pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lord Kasvenir," nodded the lieutenant as they reached the bottom of the stairs and began moving toward the centre of the courtyard where the troop was exercising. In keeping with the rest of the palace, the courtyard was not paved over but rather a combination of grassy areas and a central gravel square upon which the soldiers practised. Around the walls of the enclosed space were leafy fronds and colourful, flowered bushes and vines that helped provide the illusion of an open space far removed from the huge building that was the palace.

The sergeant that had been speaking with Ceallachan when Loraith first arrived came over and had a short conversation with the lieutenant, and after a slightly distrustful glance at Loraith nodded reluctantly and moved to end the drill. A few barked commands immediately drew the soldiers to attention and then positioned them in a precise square around the perimeter of the gravel area, the four straight lines of warriors defining the duelling grounds for Loraith and Ceallachan. Although their expressions were neutral, the air was charged with their collective excitement at the prospect.

"After you, Lord Kasvenir," offered the lieutenant, indicating a small opening the soldiers had left for them to enter the square. Following Loraith in, he strolled to the far side of the duelling area and surveyed the grounds as he limbered up his arms. Ceallachan turned to face Loraith once the achadhiel had drawn his sword, letting the tip trail lazily through the gravel, and smirked.

"As you wish," he replied, golden-green eyes alight with anticipation as he granted Loraith his request, "you shall have my best. I suggest we use standard rules for the duel, meaning until one yields or first blood is drawn. Agreed?"

Ceallachan drew his curved short sword as he awaited Loraith's reply, the broad, flat blade with its wide point rasping out of the sheath at the guard's waist. He crouched into a stance, blade held low with the tip pointing up at a slight angle, free arm close and cocked back. With a light, sidling step the adhiel began to advance on his challenger.

[Guest]

When Loraith fought with a sword he tended to fight in a defensive manner, after all a reckless opponent could be exploited, and any attacking mover that was parried allowed a useful counter-attack. There were a few things to remember when one fought with swords. The sword arm must be firm but not stiff, a stiff sword arm would lead to a disarming, he kept a firm but light grip on his blade and his arm was bent slightly to give stress-releif to any attack. His feet moved continually, oe should never stay still, to move the feet kept the opponent thinking. And finally Loraith tried to scare his opponent, his right hand held his sword and as he had been trained in noble fighting his left hand was held behind his back giving him a grace to his fighting. His sword arm now stretched outwards at his foe, the blade pointing at his face.

"First blood my friend." He said simply before moving forward and throwing a fee experimental slashes, he wanted to make sure he left no openings tfor his foe so he did very riskless swings, at the body so his opponent could routinely parry them, he wanted to get the measure of this Adhiel before he decided on a gameplan. He would defend and try to coax his foe into attacking, he was sure his defensive technique could win out.

[Sebastian Beauvais]

Ceallachan watched the first two of Loraith's slashes slice wide, and then calmly deflected the third with a seemingly lazy flick of his wrist. Golden-green eyes narrowing slightly, the adhiel officer continued his shifting sideways gait, staying at the edge of Loraith's longer reach. It continued that way for a handful of flickers more, and then Ceallachan went on the offensive.

Like a coiled viper seizing its moment, the lieutenant darted forward and stabbed low at Loraith's groin, his curved blade deflected just in time by the achadhiel's downward parry. Staying dangerously close, Ceallachan tried to bring his blade to bear again for a winning strike but Loraith recovered too quickly, his riposte forcing the adhiel to dance away. Falling back into his defensive posture, Loraith waited for his opponent to try again.

And try he did, several times. Each time Ceallachan used his marvellous speed and unpredictable gait to dart inside Loraith's reach, trying to hamper the larger achadhiel's effectiveness and enhance the advantages of his own quick weapon. The short blade struck low to the side, high to the shoulder, and swept at the achadhiel's thigh, but each time Loraith was equal to the task and ready with a riposte or a follow up thrust of his own. Now at the adhiel's arm, there just off his hip, and again past an elbow. Both swordsmen felt the air rustle with the blade of their opponent a mere finger's breadth from their skin, but no touch was scored.

Backing off completely, Ceallachan smiled and caught his breath for a moment or three, nodding slightly at his opponent. "You defend well, Lord Kasvenir," he said with some respect. "I see this will be no simple victory after all." Pacing slowly to Loraith's left, still well out of reach, the adhiel guard shrugged to loosen his shoulders and spun the hilt of his sword in his palm two, three, now four times. Settling into his fighting crouch again, he inclined his head and checked his opponent for readiness.

"Shall we resume?" he asked with an eager grin.

[Guest]

"Young knight, learn to love K'Tan and revere women, so that your honour grows. Practice knighthood and learn the Art that dignifies you, and brings you honour in battle."

The words of his old teacher began to come back to him, he had trained long with the sword and learnt the ways of battle, he tookpride in being viewed as a mere noble and yet being able to do much more, he recalled he had spent a yahren prancing about a studio working on his footwork before he was allowed to hold a sword. he hoped it helped him now. His one handed style allowed him to move easily and defend the attacks. Though he realised his opponent would win the fight if it continued in this manner. He could not allow his opponent to attack with such vigour for his opponent's attack was faster than the defence he could muster.

As they seperated Loraith smiled and idly ran a hand across his tied back hair, "I am more a soldier than a nobleman Master Ceallachan." He smiled and changed his stance, he made his legs heavy to ground himself and allow him to stand firm. He then added a second hand to his grip so he lost his defence but gain far more power. With his reach and the weight of his sword he felt he had a good chance of defeating his opponent in one attack. After all his little sword would find it hard to stop his powerful attacks with human muscle driving them and a large sword as their front. He felt he could bash aside the sword and get the damaging cut and keep his foe on the defensive where he would be far less effective.

"Shall we resume? Did we ever stop." he grinned and then quickly pounced forward and began to swing in a controlled manner at his foe, if he moved up for a parry Loraith would continually smash the sword down on his opponents weapon hopefully knocking it from his hand. He did not want to hurt the boy but felt his reputation was at stake, so if he chopped into him then so be it. He would try not to do too much damage, perhaps if he realised he was to get a good shot in just lower the speed and take a glancing shot. Primarily however he wanted to win, above anything.

[Sebastian Beauvais]

The two met in a clash of steel that resounded throughout the courtyard, while impassive yet enthralled faces of the troop looked on. Loraith carried the attack to his adhiel opponent, relying on his greater reach to initiate and engage Ceallachan before the speedy lieutenant could resume his darting thrusts. With powerful two-handed strokes the achadhiel beat upon the officer, forcing the guard to lurch from side to side as he deflected rather than fully parried the heavy blows.

Giving ground before the onslaught, Ceallachan managed to stay out of harm's way for half a dozen heartbeats, but them Loraith's stronger attacks caught up to him. While trying to shift to his right and guide Loraith's slash off to the side, the lieutenant's foot slipped in the gravel and threw off his balance for a flicker. Wrenching his body aside at the last possible moment, Ceallachan saved himself by a hair as the tip of Loraith's long sword sliced through the officer's dhoti. But the rhythm of Ceallachan's careful dance had been lost and Loraith was able to seize the advantage.

Raining down overhand blows on his beleaguered opponent, the achadhiel hammered at Ceallachan's softening defence. The short adhiel blade was not meant to directly stall such attacks, and it took all of the lieutenant's strength to keep his attacker's sword from cleaving through and landing a grievous blow. Behind the flashing steel, Ceallachan's golden-green eyes were narrowed and hard with determination. The adhiel had stopped retreating and was withering under the repeated blows from Loraith's attacks, coming down from above like hammers of the gods. Each blow inched closer to Ceallachan, until it seemed he could fend off no more.

And then suddenly he wasn't there! Calling upon his last reserves, the adhiel gauged Loraith's repeated blows and spun to the side and inward against the achadhiel with surprising speed. As Loraith's strike coursed harmless through thin air the adhiel drove his left forearm against his opponent's doubled grip to impede a counterattack and lunged with his curved short sword. Loraith tried to leap back from the seeking tip of the weapon, but the steel slipped through fabric and gently nipped at flesh just above his hip.

The two swordsmen knew the result of their hardfought battle...Ceallachan had just struck the winning blow.

[Guest]

"Rah!" shouted Loraith as he flung his sword away so it spun across the gravel and to a rest. Even in his angry state he made sure he did not fling it in the direction of anyone. His anger was justified, had he been fighting properly he would now be dead, he had not remembered his training and had become predictable, his opponent had taken advanbtage, realised the pattern and exploited the monotony of his strokes. What was more he had lost a rather good chance to prove that there was some things he could do better than an Adhiel, if he was to justify his place in proper society he nedded to show he was good at things, in fact more he had shown he was good at this but he was still not as good as his foe. And for people that heard of this there would be no talk of the battle being pretty even, or of Loraith almost winning, it would be Loraith the Achadhiel lost to Ceallachan the Adhiel, and it would not suprise them.

It left a bitter taste in his mouth, he slowly looked downwards already knowing what he could see. The slightest of rips in his Dhoti and a little bit of blood seeping out. Forcing a smile onto his face he turned round and extended his hand, the dissapointment was evident on his face but he did not hold any anger to the victor, "you beat me fair and square, my skills are not up to your standards I am afraid." He held his hand out and wanted to leabe as quickly as possible, he felt rather embarassed to loose in front of all these people.

[Sebastian Beauvais]

Ceallachan watched Loraith's sword skitter away across the gravel with glittering eyes, the corner of his mouth tugging up ever so slightly. This one does not like to be defeated, he thought to himself. That is a good trait, if well-tempered. Saluting the achadhiel with his sword raised in front of him, Ceallachan then sheathed the weapon and relaxed in front of the troop.

"You will need to fix the edge on your weapon now," he remarked to Loraith, eyebrow cocked over one golden-green eye. "I would have thought one with such a flair for swordplay would revere his blade, not discard it as unworthy. It was not at fault for your loss." Respect crept onto Ceallachan's face then, and he nodded to his opponent in cognition. "But neither should you feel so disappointed in the result. There are not many who have stretched me so far. My brother perhaps, and a few others, but that is all. You fought well, Lord Kasvenir."

"Dobreàn is still limping from last time, aren't you sergeant?" called out Ceallachan with a playful laugh, to which the sergeant flushed and shook his head with a good-natured grin of his own. "I am merely dragging it out while I learn a few more tricks for next time, Lieutenant." The surrounding troop had dropped their serious demeanour and were smiling at the banter between their commanders now. Clearly this was a tight-knit group, from top to bottom.

"Now then, Lord Kasvenir, I thank you for this little diversion," the adhiel said, clapping his fellow dueller on the shoulder and escorting back toward the stairway, which incidentally would lead them very near to Loraith's discarded longsword. "It will be soon enough that we are plunged into gritty reality once again. That adhiel lass," Ceallachan shook his head, a concerned look on his face, "I only wish she had been more careful."

"But that is out of our hands now," he concluded, resigned to the conflict he saw coming. The adhiel lieutenant looked up at Loraith with his golden-green eyes. "Now, is there anything more I can do for you, besides shove you in the direction of the door you were seeking? I feel an ungracious host after our little duel."

[Guest]

"No sword I have ever held fits my grip, I must have been through hundred up to now." He smiled "It is like a glove that does not fit, if necessary you will wear it but will not be happy." He looked at the blade, he had no other so he would need to stick with it until he could find something better. "And while I am at fault for my loss, my sword is an extention of myself and hence is as much to blame as I am." He chuckled lightly and cast a glance about the place somewhat nervous.


Loraith fixed his recent opponent with a slight stare at his words of comfort, "I shall not be discouraged, I did not loose by a great margin and I can become better but if I were in a proper fight I would be dead, so it is a reason for concern on my part, of course Loraith did not heed the comments about the Adhiel lass, he felt it was not related to him, after allplenty of Adhiel lasses in Kislovan. "As for tasks for me, to be honest I have an appointment in the city soon but I have a something I would like to do in the Palace, I should like to pay my respect to my dearly departed relative Anorchim I imagine he is preserved in view where people may visit him, would this be possible and if so would you mind walking with me to the location? If not then I wonder if you shall show me the way to the exit personally, I have some questions for you." Loraith smiled and picked up his sword slipping it still slightly angrily into its scabbard, "Will you do me this small service?"