Vaas Plains Castle (6) – The Blood of Kings.
The roar of the crowd as all rose to their feet at the tournament bout, that saw Sir Ahorld fight with the courage that he had been renowned for. King Henry followed everyone else, in giving Sir Ahorld a standing ovation, clapping enthusiastically, and then noting that the Queen’s servant; Calypso had also gotten to her feet, clearly in awe of Sir Ahorld’s courage.
“He is quite the man, is he not, Calpyso?” King Henry asked of her with a laugh, seeing her act out this way, when for so long she was so demure and held her tongue. This actually pleased the King and with all around him clearly enjoying themselves, he completely relaxed and slapped his thigh. “Marvelous….its so good to have him back serving the House of Casterly. What more could a King want, then his most trusted returned. The only thing that would make this better is if my darling wife was by my side to bear witness.” He leaned over to Calpyso and said with a bright smile. “Be sure to put that in your report. Blow by blow….Aha…what great sports she has missed this day.”
Her eyes trailed back to Sir Ahorld, and immediately she wished they hadn’t. One, because her looking at him could possibly lead to him looking at her, and the thought had her blood running cold. Two, because the king would believe she was talking about the knight in question. Of course, she was, but she didn’t need the king of all people thinking that.
“Congratulations, my good friend. Such a long time since I have seen you here beating the stuffing out of Sir Reed. He deserves nothing less than a good arse kicking..”
Sir Wayne finally turned to see his old friend, and he offered him a half smile, before bringing him into an embrace of friendship.
“Reggie…my old friend. If I had my way, my sword would still be in his neck, but this is sport after all.” The two then both turned their attention up to the royal box and Sir Donalds asked. “Who is the one with the King? She doesn’t look like Queen Metia.” Sir Wayne said with a straight face, being that he was hard to read at times.
“Her name is Calypso…I think. Taking the Queen’s seat for I think she is ill…or something.”
“Ahh…pretty, isn’t she?”
“Aye…I guess she is.”
She then looked away, to where the next challenger would emerge. There was no challenger yet. If a challenger did not arrive within a certain amount of time, Sir Ahorld would be crowned the winner of the tournament. If he were to fight every other fight like the match with Sir Reed, he would definitely deserve to win. Calypso leaned toward the guard standing near the entrance of the box. “Excuse me, but would you so terribly mind telling the servant boy at the foot of the stairs to fetch some water? At least two goblets if not more – I don’t know about the king, but I am a bit thirsty, so it couldn’t hurt to have some for him if he so wishes it.” The guard nodded and went to do as he was told as Calypso turned her eyes back to the arena.
“I do so hope he wins. Sir Reed was last year’s champion, no? I believe anyone who can beat the man who won before him should be the winner. Sir Ahorld is the only new competitor , after all.” She spoke more to herself than to the king, and the way she said it was acting, but she did truly believe in her words.
The King was not hard of hearing, and found that between the matches, the half time entertainment, was coming from within his own box. Calypso who was usually so quiet and serene, appeared to be enjoying the spectacle, and in particular the courage and valour of Sir Wayne Ahorld. King Henry was not one of those that sat and ate non stop, nor drank like a fish, for he found his appetite was more for good humor and the happiness of those around him. He liked to watch people and his own kin, in going about their daily lives, and finding the jewels that were to be found in warm conversation and banter.
Calypso called for a guard to have a servant fetch her a drink of water, for she was thirsty, and the King relaxed in his throne eyeing her thoughtfully. His deep blue eyes flittered from her to that of his Knight, Sir Wayne, and then back, especially when Calypso expressed her hope that Sir Wayne would be declared the best of the tournament, since no other had stepped forth to challenge. The King suddenly beamed a smile that was full of mirth as he said loudly.
“And should he be the winner, I think YOU should do the honors and present him with his prize, of the Golden hawk, as it is normally the Queen that does this, and bestows a kiss on the winner’s cheek.” Was he matchmaking, or merely amusing himself?
One could never tell with King Henry.
Calypso laughed, shaking her head and looking down with the timid smile. “No, I do believe that would upset the people. They would not like to see a mere servant take upon herself the duty of their queen.” She looked back to him, the smile becoming a soft, almost friendly one. “But I do appreciate the offer, sire.”
Underneath her friendly projection, she wanted to strangle him. She wanted to strangle him, but she also wanted to run and hide until Sir Ahorld disappeared. To touch the man would surely be her downfall, even if it was a simple brush in passing. And, she could not allow herself any sort of show of favoritism from anyone but the Queen – it would make her seem too close to the Casterlies.
“It seems to me that there aren’t any other challengers looking to make their way to a stand.”[
Training Ground Arena
*Sir Arthur had come across a servant of his from his tent, the lad was seemingly out of breath as he approached and walked beside the Knight. Not wanting to delay his return to the Arena, Arthur could not halt in his endeavor, though he did acknowledge the boy.* “What is it child? I am already late.” *His demeanor was cold, focused, though his tone was gentle and soft, reassuring the boy.* “Sire, Sir Wayne has won his match and the others have already begun and finished their battles. Those who were to fight you declined, and withdrew from the tourney. It is time to determine the champion.” *Arthur rolled his eyes and sighed as he steadily and hastily turned the corner into the Training area.* “I am aware of this, child. return to my tent, ready the feast for my victory.” *He smiled and placed a strong hand on the boy’s shoulder, patting it a few times before he ran off in the other direction.*
*He made it to the clearing behind the crowds surrounding the arena. Spreading his black wings wide, he flapped once and launched quickly into the air, his hair flying rapidly behind him and his eyes closed to the feeling of the wind against his face. It had been a while since he last flew and he missed it so much. Before he became a knight, it was the only mode of travel he knew, thus his wings became very strong and powerful, much more so than other angels since he was among the very few who did not hide exactly what he was.*
*He soared nearly one hundred feet above the crowd and when he was ready, drew his blades, swooping down toward the ground of the arena, folding his wings in as to allow his body to free fall. As he fell, he picked up more and more speed. Now about ten feet from the ground of the arena, the crowd noticed him and began to whoop and hollar. Oh how he loved that sound. Unfolding his wings quickly, he angled them to lift him in time for his body to just barely touch the ground. He rose up high, flipping so that his back was to the crowd on the ground, headed for the Royal Box. He then flapped his wings once and he entered a powerful and speedy spiral, his wings folded in to aid in the motion. Just before he hit the box, he spread his wings and came to an immediate halt before the King and this apparent…well respected Servant. His swords were held loosely at his sides and his head bowed to his King.* “Your Majesty, it is an honor to have your eyes upon me this day as I show the skills I use to defend the honor and name of you, your wife the Queen, and myself. I speak for myself, and I’m sure Sir Wayne would agree, when I say, your presence will only cause us to fight fiercer, truly granting you a great feat of skill and sight to behold.” *Bringing his right hand to his chest in a heavy pound, ensuring his mejestically designed blade was held straight with the point in the air, and bowed his head once more.*
*Flapping his wings again, he arched his back backwards so that he’d flip in the air and land in the Arena beside the announcer as he spoke.* “Sir Arthur, versus Sir Wayne! The two greatest of us shall fight now!”
While the Queen was resting over the couch, leaning her book of spells, a servant come in, asking her if she wanted something, all she asked for was just a glass of wine, and that’s what he did. In matter of minutes, he was finally back with a glass of wine for the Queen. Once he left, Metia looked down at the glass, and poked the red liquid with her index finger, leaving it wet, then she brought her finger up to her lips, open her mouth, and stuck out her tongue slightly, as she closed her lips back, and licked the wine off from her finger. Then she just removed her finger away from her mouth, Metia always had this habit, because she was extremely picky when it comes to wine, and in the other hand, she doesn’t trusts anybody enough to not doubt that her drink might have some kind of poison, and if she tastes it like this, it won’t be enough to kill her, if its poison.
She had her complexes, and people was already used to it.
Now that she knew the wine was good, and had no poison, she picked up the glass, and took a small sip from it, letting the red wine slid down in her throat, and give her the burn feeling, that sent her a shiver through her spine. Metia keep on reading, she was trying to find ways on how she could break the curse she had, she didn’t wanted to keep on eating souls, not that she didn’t enjoyed, its just, it was a sad life. Her power was her beauty, and a witch she met long ago, knew that, so she cursed her, making her beauty lack out and so her energy, basically slowly turning her into a weak, ugly, extremely skinny woman, till she was dead. She was able to find a way to keep herself alive, which was get souls from beautiful women, and since then, she kills a woman every year or more, it always depends on if her curse wants to attack her more than before. Now, she was wanting to find a way to get rid of this curse, she was tired of this, she wanted to remain with her beauty, she wanted to grow old on a normal way, and try have a normal life, but now this curse changed her personality as well, she wants power as well, she wants to show this world the pain it deserves.
The more she read, the less information she got, everything was useless and that was pissing her off, angering her enough to make break the wine of glass in her hand. The glass just broke since she was tighten in harder, that left a wound on her palm, then the red liquid just fell all over her white dress.
She got her dress dirty, especially the one her husband favored the most. But she was more worried on covering up her wound, her organism would be weaker, so she could get an infection. She desperately tried to find some bandages around her chambers, and she actually found one in her nightstand, she quickly wrapped it around her palm, tightly, making the bleeding slowing down. Now her next problem was her dress, and she looked lazily at it, she had to change and get rid of this dress, it wasn’t like she wasn’t happy to get rid of this, the problem would be mostly her husband but oh well. She began to change her clothes, and put on another white dress.
“We know what she meant to you, Sir Wayne, and…well, me and Godfrey felt that you should spend some time with…her, before the tournament is over.” Thomas shrugged his shoulders and fiddled with his fingers, hoping that Sir Wayne would not be upset for setting up a small shrine within the tent. Sir Wayne reached out and ran his finger down the image of his beautiful wife, and then saw the necklet that was resting upon the flowers. “How did you get this?” he asked, picking it up and holding it just out so it would spin and capture the light. Thomas coughed and then replied. “She gave it to me, Sir…when she knew that she was dying, and that believed you would need it someday. Today is that day, M’lord.” Sir Wayne closed his fingers around the necklet and nodded without further word, before then placing it around his neck, and tucking it into his tunic. As Sir Wayne turned to head out of the tent, Thomas said to him, in aid to bring some comfort. “Those that have lived and shared their lives with us, their hearts, never truly die. For their spirit remains with us…always.” Sir Wayne patted Thomas’s shoulder, then headed out into the daylight, where the trumpets now sounded for the next duel. The herald shouted loudly the proclamation;
“Sir Arthur, versus Sir Wayne! The two greatest of us shall fight now!”
Thomas and Godfrey quickly started to gather up weapons, and the flag of Ahorld, and started to make their way to the arena, where the black wings of Sir Anthony could be seen, as he soared and flew in a dazzling display that had the crowd on their feet. Sir Wayne started his march for the arena, chosing not to open his wings yet….no…that could wait.
The other knights and squires, that had been resting in between the bouts, heard the call of the heralds, and realized it was to be a face off of the two Knights, that were the best the King had in his service. The crowd now was in a frenzy of stomping their feet in earnest for this was to be the match that many would speak of for many a day and night to come. Even those that were enjoying ale in the tavern marquis were now racing out to get a good vantage point on which to watch the spectacle. Children with small flags got right down the front, as the flag was posted hard into the ground by Godfrey, to show that Sir Wayne had come forward to accept the challenge. He had already removed his cape, and his sword “Ambrosia” was slashed to his back, and he reached around and withdrew it, as the light broke through the clouds, and illuminated in gold lettering the name of his wife. Sir Wayne shook his shoulders, and then the magnificence of his white wings, unfolded into the full. Powerful and majestic, he looked every part the Knight of Casterly, with his helm upon his head. The eagle embossed into the metal. He held up his sword, straight before him, tip pointing straight up before his face, and then swung it outwardly in a diagonal slash, so you could hear the sweet sing of the blade as it whistled through the air. With his feet spaced shoulder width apart, his right foot back slightly, he held his sword at the ready, both hands clasping the handle – left at the top, right at the bottom, the hands just touching, the blade tipped to 1 oclock. Sir Wayne stood fast, as he awaited his challenger, as the trumpet sounded for the match to start.
*Arthur was standing rather lax, until he heard the slash of the sword through the air, and lifted his eyes to his opponent. Sir Wayne. His opposite in the order of the Casterly Knight Brotherhood. The perfect angel, white wings untainted by the color of black. Where as Sir Arthur was the tainted angel, wings of pure black color that created shadow in his wake, where as Sir Wayne’s brilliant white’s created light. Arthur huffed at the man as a smug grin of the smallest and quickest nature flew to his face, then left a mili-second later.*
*Two forces, of Dark and Light are to do battle this day, and Arthur would make sure that…”Darkness” should arise victourious. He bowed his head to Sir Wayne as he readied himself and his blade.* “Then we are not to share greeting? It has been quite some time, Old Friend. Perhaps you’ve learned a thing or two since I last wiped floor with your ass.” *The men laughed, and Arthur shrugged, giggling himself.* “Very well then. I have filled my joke status quote for the next hour. Let us begin.” *Arthur spread his legs, bending them at the knee with his right behind his left. Then, he slowly lifted his blades and straightened his back so that “Majestic”, as he called it, was lifted to become eye level to him in his right hand, the elbow bent and raised. His other blade, wielded in his left hand, and though just as shiny as “Majestic” was not as..well…majestic, was held straight out before him, his body sideways so the blade lined with his left rib cage.*
*Not even a second after the horn sounded, Arthur had leapt into the air, using the strength in his legs, and a simple flap of his wings to carry him to his opponent. Holding his right hand with Majestic to his left rib cage as if to start a sweeping motion, and his left above his head to bring heavily down onto Sir Wayne, his mighty and powerful wings practically blocked out the sun and a battle cry that would scare the Gods left his lips. As he would land, he he brought down his left handed blade as hard as he could, and used Majestic to sweep from his left to his right aimed at Wayne’s gut.*