Fable - Ask Old Growth Still Green

[Quacey]

The old oak stands green and lush.
No hint of time or sickly flush.
Towering high and tall,
It protects them all.

Life and Freedom. The core tenants of Spring. A time of growth and change. Of becoming better. Of becoming stronger. Of becoming more....

Quacey looked about at all the younger fae faces getting themselves prepared to take part in one of the many tournaments being put on all year round throughout the Spring Court. Parlor members seeking to prove themselves to their peers, or garner new supporters. Shine, new arms and armors glittering in the sun. Perfumes sprayed to keep the stench of sweat at bay and attract a new lover or two. It was the place to show off and impress.... Or be shamed.

The older fae had none of the things the younger ones did. His armor was not new nor shiny. It was not even as extensive. It covered what it needed and had been colored to be dull in the light. His weapon had no fancy guard, pommel, or hilt. No etchings or patterns on its blade. It was plain and practical. His natural musk clung to his padding and armor mixed in with the smell of the oils used to protect the metal from the elements. He no doubt looked like a no name commoner compared to the titled nobles competing so readily.

=============

The first match was announced. A pair of Spring knights, both barely having seen a millennia each, entered the arena. A fairy announcing the event flew into it. A staff in her hands craved beautifully with a snakehead craved into one end.

She pointed with it at one knight, armored heavily in a rich green with a halberd in hand, "Lord Hi'lal of the Evergreen Parlor! Keeper of the Glassen Rings! Hunter of great bears! Disarmer of rogues!"

She sped over to the other side as part of the crowd cheered. She pointed to the next knight armored much the same but in gold with a shield and mace. "Lord Merrith of the Riverstroll Parlor! Defender of Sparrow's Rest! Seeker and Reclaimer of Golden Horns! Shield to all Pixie kind!"

The fairy flew off into the air as the supporters of golden challenger cheered. She yelled for the pair to begin and so they did.

Lord Hi'lal rushed forth. As did Lord Merrith, who soon shifted to a more defensive stance. The pair clashed with the halberd head striking hard into shield. Both flinching, their inexperience showing. Lord Hi'lal was first to recover. He hooked the edge of the shield and pulled hard. Lord Merrith tried to resist but then aimed a swing with his mace at the hand of his opponent. The shield and halberd both lost. Hi'lal backed off, drawing his sword as he did. The two rushed forth once more. Bodies clashing together.

=============

Quacey watched with a bit of a frown as he watched the younger fae duel. It was sloppy. More care had gone into their appearance than their craft. Servers were roaming around the guest seats as he looked away. It was not worth his time to observe them once they began their melee slog. This tourney was on the middle sized scale. Too small to attract the attention of the most famous and powerful but too big to truly be ignored by everyone else. He was here to get a feel of the state the Spring was in. More out of his own curiosity. Nairth had not ordered it, although he planned to bring his findings up with the King later.

The fairy finally announced an end to the match as Lord Merrith slipped and was forced to yield. Both competitors pretty armor was battered now and splotches of red added to their dye. Cheers took place and the victor basked in his glory. The pair was forced out of the arena and things were cleaned.

It was his turn now so he got himself moved into the arena.

The fae opposite of Quacey was a knight in white that looked to be twice the age of the previous competitors and thrice as experienced. In his hand he held a halberd as well, but his had an axe head on one side and a hammer on the other. He was beautiful. His hair platinum blonde and blowing in the wind. His eyes like green pools. Swooning took place all around the arena at the sight of him.

The fairy pointed to the younger fae. "Lord Rikkard, head of the Highgarden Parlor! Crusher of trolls! Ender of Winter Cowards! Claimer of Crystal Tears! Hero of Tangleknot Grove! Heir to the Verdant Chair! Champion of over twenty tournaments!"

The crowd erupted in excitement and cheer. Rikkard waved to them. His smile a natural smirk. Winces and looks promising endless joy going out to the beautiful men and women in the crowd. The fairy flew over towards Quacey.

"Lord Quacey of Twinhome! Sole member of the Twinhome Parlor! Poet-Knight! Shepherd of the Lost!"

The crowd didn't cheer. There was an air of confusion about it. More then a few, "Who?" echoed about. The fairy flew up high as insults and pitying statements towards Quacey were yelled by the more drunken in the crowd.

And then the fairy announced their start.

Ceilidh Trahan

 

[Ceilidh Trahan]

Ceilidh had decided that she needed to get out of the house and the medium sized tournament in the Spring Court was a great excuse. It was a trip to relax and get her mind off things while watching the young fae males show off their muscles. She was lounging in her seat with a glass of red wine that a server had brought to her.

The High Lady of the Winter Court crossed one of her long legs over the other as Lord Rikkard entered the arena. He was the one she really came to look at. He was favorite among the crowd as well as in the betting pools. It seemed the women were here for him as well. He was gorgeous and he was not a bad fighter. He just had the most ridiculous titles and she laughed every time she heard them.

Rikkard's competitor was a tall, muscular fae who looked unremarkable. His titles were underwhelming as well. He was the only member of his court. That interested Ceilidh more than anything else. She looked around the crowd at the commotion and sat up in her seat slightly.

This would entertaining to say the least.

Quacey

 

[Quacey]

The match had begun. Like a bolt of lightning Rikkard charged forward towards Quacey. The older fae just took on a stance with the point of his longsword out in front of him pointed towards the ground. It was known as the Fool and one of his favorite stances to use. The one charging him was about to find out why.

"No hard feelings old man!" Rikkard yelled at him. The crowd seemed to eat up his taunt. It was a great jest to them. It didn't matter that Quacey was taller and broader of build than the one rushed towards him.

As Rikkard came close, he thrust forward to take advantage of the reach. Not the worst decision, but it played into Quacey's hands. He stepped forward into it as he swung his own blade up. The tip of the halberd was knocked up high causing the thrust to miss and the larger fae now within Rikkard's guard.

The parry motion was smoothly turned into an immediate counter as he swung down. The young fae attempted to step to the side, but still caught part of the blow to his shoulder. A wince corrupting the beauty of his smirking smile. Leaving no time for recovery while the younger fae was off balance, Quacey rammed him with his nearest shoulder. This knocked Rikkard to his back.

Quacey finished by thrusting his own blade towards the younger fae's head. The edge of the blade cutting his cheek enough that it would scar, but more importantly it got the fairy announcer to fly back into the arena.

"Lord Quacey is the winner!"

Quacey wiped the blood off his blade onto the young fae's cloak. Then he offered a hand down to help him up. The offer was refused by Rikkard swatting Quacey's hand away. The younger fae stumbled back to his feet as Quacey just headed to the exit of the arena.

The crowd was shocked. Booing could be heard. Cussing from those who had just lost fortunes in bets. And a few cheers from those risky gamblers who had just won it big as well as from those jealous of Lord Rikkard and his parading around.

"I demand a rematch!" Lord Rikkard yelled at Quacey's back. "Now!"

"You lost. Spare your dignity and just accept it." Quacey said not slowing his step.

Ceilidh Trahan

 

[Ceilidh Trahan]

The fight was quick and clean. Ceilidh enjoyed the mixture of sounds from the crowd and reminded herself yet again why she never bet on these things. She was a fan of her money. She would not have bet on Lord Quacey and it would have been a mistake on her part it seemed. She watched the dark haired man leave the arena and she stood to go meet him.

There was something drawing her to him. She could not explain it though. She just needed to talk to him.

She smiled at she approached but it did not reach her eyes. "I do not think I have seen anyone bring down Lord Rikkard so quickly yet I have never seen you at one of these tournaments." She had only been to a handful since her return to society and she had missed one thousand years worth so it was possible she had just missed him.

"I am Lady Ceilidh Trahan of the Winter Court," she bowed her head respectfully to the Lord.

Quacey

 

[Quacey]

Someone had approached and judging by the vibrations it was not a competitor. Quacey was out of the arena already so he decided to see who it was. It was not as if Lord Rikkard had tired him out or caused any kind of injury to be dealt with before his next match.

The one who approached was an unfamiliar woman. Tall and had an air that told of how she was far closer to his own age than the young pups competing in the arena, of which the next match had already begun. The crowd seemed less cheerful than before, although the bookies were ecstatic. The woman was very beautiful and would have no doubt charmed anyone else, Quacey couldn't help noticing and focusing on how her smile was not so full. More a pleasantry than genuine.

After she introduced herself, he returned her the bow as he looked down. His own hand being offered to take her's if she deemed him worthy of her attention.

"Meeting you is a great honor and pleasure Lady Ceilidh. I would introduce myself, but I believe the match already has done that for me."

If she offered him her hand then after he spoke he would plant a soft kiss onto the back of her knuckles and loosen his grip, although not fully release. That was her right to choose to remove it or allow it to stay. Perhaps even inform him of some of her intentions. But she might also not have deemed him worthy of her hand at all either.

Regardless of what occurred, he would look up to her and smile back. With her so close he could feel it. That tugging sensation. His domain was informing him that she was lost in some way and he should try to help her. An act he would do regardless of her court and social status.

"Lord Rikkard is inexperienced.... And not the brightest I must sadly admit." A soft sigh escaped him. "Sadly too many of the knights and lords taking part today are the same. I came here to see for myself how the younger ones are developing. I might need to inform King Nairth San'Seya that they are putting on a terrible show to the beautiful ladies from the other Courts."

He chuckled a bit. "But my standards might also be too high. I was pushed to perfection as a child and have a bad habit of pushing others to it as well too often."

The match was already over. One of the competitors had made a very big mistake and lost quickly because of it. The arena was being fixed and readied for the next match.

"And what of yourself my Lady? Was there anything in particular that brought you here today? Or perhaps something weighing on your mind?" He tapped by his lips as he smiled in the fashion she had. "I noticed you seem to be bothered."

Ceilidh Trahan

 

[Ceilidh Trahan]

Ceilidh placed her much smaller hand in his outstretched one and was pleasantly surprised when he pressed his lips to her soft skin. She left her hand in his even after he had loosened his grip and she smiled up at him. He was handsome. Perhaps that was what she was drawn to. Her loneliness catching up to her now.

“I will admit that the majority of these ladies do not come to watch the fights themselves. They only care for the views that are provided especially if the competitors disrobe after…” She chuckled lightly, “which they often do.” She was guilty of coming here for that very reason. She was not ashamed of her choices. “I do not believe your standards are too high. I believe they were coddled and lied to when they were trained. I could probably fight better than the majority of them.”

She laughed again before answering his next question. “I would like to say that I enjoy the sparring but I cannot lie. I come for the views. It takes my mind off of everything and lets me relax some.”

Ceilidh’s head snapped to him as he had seemingly read her mind before she had even spoken. “I have recently reentered society after a long self-imposed exile. I feel wholly unprepared for the life I knew so well and left. Everything and nothing has changed.” Why was she telling him this? She didn’t know him.

Quacey

 

[Quacey]

The large fae listened. A familiar story was mentioned to him. Self-imposed exile and recently reentering society. It was something he had done. Only his exile was more throwing himself to the point of obsession into his duties to the lost. Then there was how it was similar to other fae he had met recently. Was this why he had rejoined society as well? His fate shared by all these other fae?

"I am familiar with your tale, Lady Ceilidh. You did not recognize my name because I myself have been gone from the society proper for millennia only to rejoin recently. As recent as the coronation of King Nairth in fact. I remember the tournaments of my youth being as festive as this yet not the competitors being so focused on how sharply they dress rather than how sharp their skills are honed."

The round of matches continued on. Many were quick and a few long. Before they knew it the next round was announced to begin shortly. Quacey looked to the arena for a brief second then turned his attention back to Ceilidh. An apologetic smile crossing his face.

"I do not wish to part so soon but it would seem my next match is upon us. I must depart and partake now."

He bent over and gave her hand another soft kiss. He turned to leave but did not let go of her hand. Instead he let her fingers slide though his own so that they might linger a bit longer.

What he found himself greeted with upon entering was a bout of booing from the crowd. Some demands of their bets being returned to them. Some demands that his opponent beat him to a bloody pulp. Even his own kind could be rather blood thirsty and cruel to one another. Their wars were testament to that fact.

The fairy announcer flew down and announced Quacey first this time. Then she flew over and announced his next opponent, Lord Hi'lal. She did as before and flew up before calling the start of the match.

Unlike before, Quacey decided not to be defensive. Instead he was aggressive. He assumed a stance with his blade tip pointing behind him next to his hip and charged forward. The tail stance, good for advancing or retreating. His opponent had also charged, as he had done in his first match, but was not expecting his opponent to make this move. A wild swing was made, which Quacey didn't even try to dodge. He just shifted his blade around to the proper side and swung up yet again to parry the blow. It redirected away from him, he rammed his younger and not as broad opponent head on. The younger fae fell to his ass as Lord Rikkard before him and found a blade cutting his pretty cheek as well on its way to being stabbed into the ground next to him.

The match was called for Quacey. Instead of just leaving as he had done before, Quacey motioned a hand out to Ceilidh then knelt as he dug the sword tip into the ground before him. He had just devoted his victory to her silently. An action most of the crowd missed as they booed him for his swift victory yet again.

The fae got up and left. Lord Hi'lal showing far more dignity in his defeat than Lord Rikkard had by accepting it and moving out of the arena without a word.

Ceilidh Trahan

 

[Ceilidh Trahan]

King Nairth’s coronation. She was supposed to attended that with Baenon, Mab, and Asemir but she couldn’t bring herself to face Ase. Not yet. Not after she had slipped out while he was still asleep without a word. Her free hand went to her chest before she remembered that she had left her necklace at his house. It was crazy how three words could bring up memories and feelings. She needed more wine as soon as possible.

“I will be here,” Ceilidh said to Quacey as he kissed her hand and walked away slowly. Her fingers still felt the ghost of his after he had finally slipped away. She watched the mysterious Lord reenter the ring to a round of boos once more. It was not his fault that these young males were full of themselves and did not take these tournaments seriously. It would be a wonder if they made it to her age at this rate.

The second match went in a very similar fashion as the first. The poor Lord Hi’lal did take it better than Lord Rikkard though so there was that. Quacey motioned to her and she smiled as he knelt and dedicated his victory to her. Her smile was genuine this time and she let out a small chuckle. He was very chivalrous and she was unused to such a thing.

Ceilidh plucked a wine glass from a passing server and took a drink as she waited for her champion to return to her side. Once he did rejoin her, she was very forward as she threaded her right hand from behind and rested in on his left forearm.

“You are making everyone here very upset, Lord Quacey. They seem to want to turn on you for making them lose their money.”

Quacey

 

[Quacey]

Quacey did return to Ceilidh after his match. The crowd was upset, but they were less so than before. A few more seemed to have picked up on who to bet on and so were recovering their coin from before. The next match soon began and started the trend for the round of the matches lasting longer than they had before.

When Ceilidh placed her hand on his arm, Quacey would give her a smile. "If they are upset over me at the lose of their money then they are fools. They should be upset at me for taking the attention of the loveliest woman at the tournament for myself instead."

A slight smirk would form. Yes it was a terribly flirty compliment, but he had to get his fun from somewhere. So far the matches had proven to be disappointments. He was not a lover of violence but he did enjoy a good duel or sparring match. Neither of his opponents so far had offered the kind of challenge he had hoped to find.

"To continue from before, what caused you to place yourself in self-imposed exile? If you do not mind me asking. You are free to decline to answer. Freedom is the way of Spring after all."

He placed a hand over her own and squeezed gently. As broad and tall as he was and clearly muscular given his actions in the arena, he was gentle and soft with his touch. Perhaps something she was use to or perhaps not. He knew one could never know the experiences of others, so could only shape what one provided.

Ceilidh Trahan

 

[Ceilidh Trahan]

Ceilidh let out a laugh at his terrible line. "I am sure you use that on all the beautiful women at tournaments," she smiled up at him despite the terrible compliment. He was interesting and she liked interesting. She had not met many new people recently so this was nice. He was nice or at least he seemed nice.

His question made her flinch slightly. She had been told that she needed to talk about it, but that did not make it any easier. It had been a thousand years and her heart still hurt. She took a steadying breath and then answered Quacey.

"My husband...my mate...died unexpectedly. It is only me now and it is a struggle. Many fae do not survive the death of a mate, but I was determined to just that. I am unsure why, but here I am."

She fell silent and looked away from the Lord before closing her eyes and composing herself. "I am sorry, it is a sad tale for my sad life."

Quacey

 

[Quacey]

The story shared with him was tragic. Death was never easy to face and the kind of connection she had with her own only made it all the harder. Their long lives did them no favors in this as well. Each lose was felt for countless lifetimes for a mortal.

The smile he gave her became warmer and more sympathetic. He squeezed her hand yet again softly.

"I can not understand your lose. It is not one I have experienced myself. I myself have only lost my mother, the only parent I knew, and a young fae girl who was like a daughter to me. Both took place many millennia ago yet I can not say I have recovered from their passing."

The matches continued. The time required for them seeing to it they had longer than before to speak with one another. Cheers, swooning, and boos echoed about almost rhythmically about the crowd the entire time.

"What you have done Lady Ceilidh is an impressive thing. You should be proud of yourself for still being amongst us. I can only pray I would show a similar strength of will if I am ever in such a situation as yourself."

Ceilidh Trahan

 

[Ceilidh Trahan]

"And I pray you never have to go through it. Perhaps I will find love again someday, but until then..." Ceilidh smiled mischievously. Her grief did not mean that she could not have fun and she had been honest about her reasons for coming to the tournament. She knew Mab would be happy that she was staying far away from Ase. Terrible yet great decisions, she thought and then turned her attention back to Quacey, a small blush touching her cheeks.

"How many more fights do you have before you win the tournament, Lord Quacey?" She took a drink from her wine glass and frowned when she saw it was empty. She placed it on the next tray of the next server who passed by. She was debating if she should grab another glass or not. It would certainly help to loosen her up, but she didn't need it to loosen her up as much as it hard at the Wild Hunt.

The crowd was entertaining her and she had very handsome company so she would count the event as a success for her whether or not she went home with anyone.

Quacey

 

[Quacey]

Quacey chuckled at what his lovely companion had to say. Seemed he had gotten a bit of interest in him at least. His goal for coming here was pretty much over, although he would see the tournament through to the end. He did not like going back on his word.

"I have two more matches, assuming I win my next one. Most are competing at the jousting, archery, and horsemanship competitions. The on foot duels are the least popular event. Perhaps too fitting for myself the way the crowd has responded to me."

He would wave over one of the servants that had a glasses of wine. They would approach and he would smile to Ceilidh. "Another glass my Lady?"

The round was nearly over. The current match was just beginning and only the last match was left to follow. Soon it would be time for Quacey to enter the arena once again.

Ceilidh Trahan

 

[Ceilidh Trahan]

Ceilidh plucked a glass of red wine from the tray and nodded her thanks to the server. "As my champion, Lord Quacey, I need you to win both. I cannot have my honor besmirched." She laughed out loud and it was actually joyful. He had cheesy compliments and she had cheesy jokes. They were both clearly ridiculous and needed speech writers.

"I do love archery. I have a range at my estate, but I have not been out to shoot in quite a long time. I need to get out there. I have been painting more than I have in the last millennium, which has been very nice." She took a sip of wine and then smiled at Quacey again. "You will have to tell me of your hobbies when you return from winning this next round, my Lord."

Quacey

 

[Quacey]

Quacey gave her a slight bow without disturbing her hand upon his arm. A slight smirk still touching his smile as he did. "As you command my Lady. I will win over these young pups in your name."

The conversation shifted. The last match had begun. The crowd was growing in anticipation yet again. Lord Rikkard or no Lord Rikkard, they were getting excited for who would win it all. And this year they had a villian in Quacey to boo and sneer to their hearts' content.

"I enjoy hunting, although I have not been on a hunt for far too long. I also write poetry. Collect and study history and literature from across the ages. Perhaps we could share some of our works with each other? I could admire your paintings as you ravage my poems?"

And the match came to an end. It was time for the next round and as it was in the previous one, he would be first up. A sigh escaped him. All too soon he had to depart good company. He took her hand on his arm and lifted it up to his lips. A kiss was laid upon her fingers.

"I will return soon my Lady. Try not to miss me too desperately while I'm gone." A slight smirk followed.

Then he had to head to the arena.

His opponent this time was a fae close in age to Rikkard, but unlike that previous Lord this fae was more handsome than beautiful. He also was wielding a falchion in one hand and a morningstar in the other. Fearsome weapons that could be effective against armored and unarmored opponents alike.

The fairy started with Quacey's opponent this time around. "Sir Kurleon of Springwood Parlor! Charmer of Pixies! Defender of Kobolds! Dyer of the Snowy Veil! Planter of Ash!"

Quacey was proclaimed and then the fairy went high above. The match began, but his opponent did not charge him. A lesson learned from his previous opponents. Good. This one seemed more competent, or at least less arrogant.

But he had made a promise to return soon so the match could not be allowed to last long. So Quacey, just as before, charged forward with his blade held to the side tailing behind him. Kurleon was ready and on guard. His stance ready to dart to either side. Quacey instead of slashing shifted his charge into a thrust.

Kurleon was thrown off by the unexpected action of a thrust. He stepped back instead of to the side, which put him off balance. Quacey flowed his attack from the thrust into a downward slash from high above, putting his full force into it. Not having the proper footing to dodge, the younger fae attempted to parry the blow with his falchion. It was another mistake. The parry only saw his weapon lost and the blow to land as intended. The fae fell to the ground and received the same treatment as those before him. A new scar to his cheek.

Quacey was declared the winner and once again he devoted his victory silently to Ceilidh. This time holding up his blade in offering to her instead of stuck in the ground before him.

He returned to her side yet again.

"I return once more a victor in your name Lady Ceilidh."

Ceilidh Trahan

 

[Ceilidh Trahan]

Ceilidh had hoped the match would last longer for Quacey's sake, but he once again made it short and sweet. Poor Sir Kirleon. He looked like he had a chance for a minute. She smiled sweetly and placed her free hand over her heart when he up his blade. She took a sip of wine as he returned to her side.

"You, sir, are my hero. What ever would have happened if I had decided to speak with one of those young males. I would've been sorely disappointed and jealous of the woman who had your attention." She smirked before returning to their previous conversation.

Ravage my poems. That was an interesting word choice, she thought. "Sir, are you trying to get me to invite you to my home?" She made her voice sound scandalized but the sparkle in her eye would let him know that is was a joke.

"I would love you read your poems, Lord Quacey. You have probably seen some of my artwork before. It is prominent in many of the courts." Ugh, she groaned inwardly, that sounded horribly conceited.

Quacey

 

[Quacey]

The fae made a look of obvious feigned surprise. "My Lady, how ever did you uncover my plot? Now I must find another way to gain your favor and be invited into your home."

He offered her his arm so that she might rest her hand once more. This tournament was proving to be rather refreshing for him. It had been a long time since he took place in one and she was helping him feel like a young knight yet again seeking to gain the attention of a pretty young maiden.

"What works of yours might I be familiar with? You have my curiosity."

A painter and a poet. A Lady and Lord. Interesting how these tourneys brought people so similar yet different together. They were common enough in the Spring Court, but he did not know how often they were held outside of it. His focus in the lands of the others courts tended to be on aiding the lost and on little else.

Ceilidh Trahan

 

[Ceilidh Trahan]

"You cannot get anything past me, Lord Quacey." She chuckled and finished her third glass of wine. She set it on the tray and put her hand on his offered arm. "You have already gained my favor winning all these matches for me," she smirked up at him.

She thought about his next question. She could not point out any in particular painting she had done since there were so many floating around and she was not sure how traveled Quacey was. "The portrait of Queen Mab hanging outside the throne room in the Winter Court is mine." He wouldn't be invited to Kor Aren so he would not see the ones that she had painted for Asemir. "I have heard Grovehaven is beautiful. I may have to go paint it for the new Spring King." Portraits and landscapes were her favorite.

"Perhaps if you win this tournament, I can share my art with you. I could never show it to those who lose a tournament though. It just isn't done." She smiled as she watched the next match finish. She knew he would leave her again soon and she found that she was slightly sad about it. Very strange. He had made her laugh and smile more than she had in a thousand years though so perhaps she just felt a connection.

Quacey

 

[Quacey]

"How could I dare lose when I have such a beautiful woman to fight for? I feel sympathy for my opponents as losing just can not be done."

He did not recognize the painting she had mentioned. Outside of the Spring Court, he had not been to any of the court capitals. He was just not famous, or infamous, nor carry enough authority to warrant random visits. His duties also saw him drawn far and wide. He was more familiar with the lands of the courts than the cities within them.

"Grovehaven is very beautiful. Nairth has done a remarkable job building it. I am certain he would welcome a painting made. But it might be best to go through his son Tharu to request it. The young man will be an ambassador to your court I believe."

The matches were taking even longer than before. At the skill level most of these young lords and knights were at, they could not end them quickly. It was more of a testament to how skilled one or both fighters were on the speed of the outcome. It was rare for masters to have drawn out duels. Generally the first one to make a mistake was the last one to make a mistake.

"Your art and your company on the line? I most certainly can not afford to lose. There would be no recovering from the regret of missing both."

He smiled to her with that slight, playful smirk on his lips. A bit of bantering made gatherings like this all the more enjoyable after all.

Ceilidh Trahan

 

[Ceilidh Trahan]

Ceilidh enjoyed his banter very much. It was not often she found someone outside of Mab, Ase, and Baen who could keep up with her. It was pleasant to say the least. She was definitely putting her best foot forward in this foreign court, but she could never truly leave all her playfulness behind. No, she needed a good laugh.

"Certainly not, Lord Quacey. You would be forever shamed and then I would be unable to further talk to you." She winked at him and smiled ever so sweetly.

The picture of perfect grace and politeness. The picture of a perfect Lady. Too bad she was far from either the majority of the time. She was ready to go home and let her hair down.

Quacey

 

[Quacey]

"How are you enjoying the tournament so far? Any other events you wish to observe? It would be an honor to escort you after my last match, if you wish."

A request to spend more time together. All too often these moments only lasted as long as the tournament themselves did. Fleeting as an arrow in flight. Once the target was reached there was no more need for one another. He personally did not enjoy such brief encounters with others. Especially ones he was having such lovely banter with.

All too soon the match was won. It was time for the last round and the ultimate victor to be known. The winner of the previous match would require a break and time for the crowd to place their bets and get their next drink.

"It would seem the end is upon us my Lady. I only wish I had more matches to dedicate to you. But it is time for finally prove myself to you and claim the most glorious prize: your smile and company."

He smiled to her and patted her hand on his arm. Then he began to head towards the arena. He had one last match to win.

Ceilidh Trahan

 

[Ceilidh Trahan]

"It has been a lovely tournament. Mostly because of the company that I found." Ceilidh smiled at her champion. "We could watch some other events if you would like to, but I do not need to. I have a feeling the showing will be as poor as this one."

The current match ended and it was time for her hand to leave his arm. She only hoped he would defeat this final fighter without an issue. She enjoyed watching him, but she also enjoyed talking to him. She would invite him over whether he won or lose.

"Your flattery knows no bounds, sir," she smiled at him and leaned up to give him a small kiss on the cheek. A good luck gesture for his match.

Quacey

 

[Quacey]

Into the arena one last time. Quacey was ready. He wasn't tired nor injured. If anything his mood was better than it was in his first match so he was in an improved state comparatively. The crowd was excited, for once, as he entered. They were ready to see him lose. His opponent, it would seem, was the other favored warrior to take the ultimate victory. Everyone expected it to be Lord Rikkard instead of Quacey. It had even been purposefully set up that way, or so some gossips in the crowd claimed.

The fairy flew over to Quacey's opponent. "Lord Volrand, heir to the Gleamwater Parlor! Champion of the arena! Host of Hunts! Seeker of Relics! Hero of the Vale! Wetter of Women!"

The crowd went into an uproar. The man in the ring was heavily armored and wearing purple. Just as beautiful as Lord Rikkard but in a more rugged fashion. Swooning was even more common now than when it had been Lord Rikkard, as this fae had yet to lose to an older man.

"Anything you wish to proclaim?" The fairy asked setting the snake head before him so that his voice could be magically carried across the arena.

"I vow to reclaim the lost honor and dignity of my fellow knights stolen by this self proclaimed Lord! I will defeat the villian known as Quacey!"

The crowd loved it. The fairy drifted over to Quacey now. She announced him and then asked him the same.

"I dedicate this victory to the most beautiful Lady Ceilidh. May my sword have a fraction of the impact as her smile this day."

A lot of booing could be heard but also some awes. Jealous, angry looks were directed towards Ceilidh. People were aware of who he had been spending his time with today and to whom he had made his silent dedications of victory.

The fairy flew up and the match was called to begin. Lord Volrand raised his shield up and steadied his sword. He was ready for a fight.

Ceilidh Trahan

 

[Ceilidh Trahan]

Ceilidh did raise a brow as Lord Volrand was announced. Wetter of Women...what an utterly ridiculous title, she thought and shook her head. Arrogance was the folly of many young fae men and women. It would be truly sad when Quacey kicked his ass.

Her eyes flew to Quacey as he dedicated the victory to her out loud. She smiled at him and laughed softly to herself. She caught the looks that were thrown in her direction and she just continued to smile at Quacey like he was the only man in the world right now.

Lord Volrand was ready. Quacey was ready. The crowd was ready. She was ready.

The fairy called for the match to begin and Ceilidh felt a nervousness form in the pit of her stomach.

Quacey

 

[Quacey]

A shield. Not many were using them in this tournament. It made sense. The heavier the armor the less need one had for one. If Quacey was being honest, he should be the one with a shield right now. But he didn't have one on him and didn't need it. None of these young pups could put him into a defensive position that required one.

As the match started, he rushed forth the way Lord Rikkard had in his first match. Lord Volrand got his shield raised up ready to block the high blow Quacey had been doing up to this point in all his matches. But Quacey swung low towards his opponent's shins. The shield was dropped to block the sudden attack, exposing his head from the top of the shield.

As if in some kind of tavern brawl, Quacey threw a swift, strong punch from over the top of the shield straight at his opponent's face. It landed. A crunching noise could be heard. Blood began to flow from Volrand's nose. The younger fae staggered back completely dazed. Quacey rammed him, knocking him to the ground, and then struck his sword into the ground by his face. A slice sure to leave a scar across his cheek.

The match was called. Quacey had won. He was the victor of the whole melee tournament. Boos and cheers both erupted across the crowd. The bookies didn't know how to feel. So much money had been won and lost both this day.

Quacey once again offered up his sword while kneeling and casting his eyes down to Ceilidh. His victory dedicated to her and won as promised.

Ceilidh Trahan