Dreadlords The Tournament of Turin

[Elspeth Sirl]

A braggart? Olvir Weiroon? Quite the opposite, for certain, but she'd entertain such whimsy only because it was him. With each declaration of his victories, though, Elspeth could not help but feel a swell of pride for him. Knowing he was a good man and hearing of his feats and efforts only further solidified that her father simply had his priorities in the wrong place.

"You have been busy," Elsi squeezed his arm, aware now that she did not presently wear his bangle gift, given the nature of her purpose here. She'd hate to see it broken, tarnished, or heaven forbid - lost while tending to the wounded.

"And what a reputation, soon it will be your father demanding that I am not good enough for his son."

Hah! As much as she hated to admit it, she quite doubted anyone had the audacity to snub Lord Sirl.

"I must double down my efforts of saving lives."

 

[Aelita]

“Oooo!” Aelita murmured as Ildren!Edric appeared to confidently claim he would achieve victory.

Turning to Wil after his question, Aelita looked to the side as if in thought before answering with, “Well, I already placed mine with a bit of allowance. But, odds for Lord Ildren were one to fifteen when I left.”

Looking back to Edric, Aelita added, “Even with so many still in the tourney, Guiscard of the West had five to seven.”

 

[Olvir]

Ollie chuckled as Elspeth returned her own small jest. "Yes, I am single-handed carrying the name of Weiroon into this new age."

He said, though still in that put up voice that was clearly in humor. Aisling had accomplished more for his family in her position than he could ever hope to. Her work in the assembly was slow, but it would be true change.

That much Ollie was sure of.

His tone turned more serious as he guided Elspeth over towards one of the stalls.

"To me at least." Ollie said as he folded a hand over hers, giving it a gentle squeeze. "What you've done already is far greater than bringing home some magical bauble or besting a man in a tournament ring."

He continued with a smile. "But maybe both our achievements will be outstripped by these funnel cakes."

 

[Edric]

This was all becoming far too comfortable. The longer this conversation went on the more likely it was that either of his two companions would recognize him. Though as Aelita spoke of his odds Edric couldn't help but feel indignation flicker through his chest. "One to fifteen!?"

He demanded, his voice faltering for a moment.

A cough echoing from his throat a second later as he realized what he had just done. He cleared his throat, shaking his helmeted head.

"Err...I mean...That's absurd!" Who in the fuck did these tournament organizers think they were?! He was a Dreadlord! He could best any noble rube at this bloody tournament and still have energy to spare. Not that the organizers knew any of that, though the thought didn't really occur Edric in the moment.

Reaching down to a small satchel on his belt, Edric pulled out three gold coins and slammed them down on the table in front of Aelita. Duncan had given him some coin when they'd left, stating that any Lord worth his name would have at least some money.

"Bet this on me." He told her. "If these people want to underestimate The Black Wyvern of Orlen then they'll fucking pay for it."

Edric grunted.

 

[Wilhelm Anireth]

Wil grinned; he liked this man! That was the type of belief in oneself that meant he could take a hit over and over again despite the odds. The Prince actually saw himself in this Black Wyvern - and not just because his armour was polished so brightly he could actually see his own reflect.

"That's the spirit!" he slapped a hand down on the table with enthusiasm. "I too shall place a bet on you my friend. Though, we best be getting off to the ring if you're to make your match on time - and you haven't even touched your food! Never mind," he scooped it up. "I'll save it for after, fighting can make a man hungry. Lead on!"

 

[Aelita]

Aelita gave a nod to Ildren!Edric as she picked up the coins.

“By your will!” Aelita told the “lord”.

With Wil beginning to usher everyone back to the ring, Aelita got up.

“The bookie’s on the way,” Aelita told Wil, “It shouldn’t take long.”

Looking to the two others at the table, Aelita asked, “Shall we?”

As they departed, Aelita would keep a silent, smiling look upon Ildren!Edric for a few seconds longer than necessary before she placed her focus on the path before her.

 

[Edric]

Edric jerked his head in a nod, the simple helmet tipping forward as his drive and determination suddenly eclipsed all else.

Before their conversation the Joust had been a noble game, something that these fools played to convince themselves they would be able to survive in battle. Now? Now it was a challenge. A way for Edric to bring down these noble sons and teach them they were nothing less than the dirt he would put them into.

With quick, determined steps the trio made their way back to the preliminary arena.

Aelita and Wil placed their bets, and then, for whatever reason Edric lead them back to the staging area. Never thinking that he could simply dismiss them and tell them he would see them later.

"Ah there you are I was starting to thi-" Duncan's eyes opened very wide as he spotted Aelite and Wil, particularly due to the latter. He clearly recognized the Prince, though the expression lasted for only a brief heartbeat before his cadence quickly changed. "I see you made some friends, My Lord. I am so pleased!"

Edric could practically feel the other Dreadlord's anger, but he gave absolutely nothing away. "Your bout begins any minute now, My Lord. You should prepare."

He smiled at the two other Anirians, then added.

"Ah, forgive my rudeness, my name is Samon. Lord Idren's chief, and only servant." He flashed the Prince and Initiate a smile, apparently not worried about either of them recognizing him.

 

[Wilhelm Anireth]

Power... delicious power...

Wil twisted the ring on his finger and stamped out the voice in his head. For whatever reason the blasted thing really did want to take a bite out of his new friend. And, it seemed, his friends servant. How odd. The Prince didn't let that deter him from having a good time though; thoughts of the deal he had struck for the odd taste of magic ranked second on the list of things he did not want to talk about today.

"Samon! How good to meet you," Wil clapped the servant on the shoulder in a hearty greeting. "I suppose you must have a good spot where we can watch Idren's bout then, eh?"

 

[Elspeth Sirl]

Ollie chuckled as Elspeth returned her own small jest. Yes, I am single-handed carrying the name of Weiroon into this new age.

He said, though still in that put up voice that was clearly in humor. Aisling had accomplished more for his family in her position than he could ever hope to. Her work in the assembly was slow, but it would be true change.

That much Ollie was sure of.

His tone turned more serious as he guided Elspeth over towards one of the stalls.

To me at least. Ollie said as he folded a hand over hers, giving it a gentle squeeze. What youve done already is far greater than bringing home some magical bauble or besting a man in a tournament ring.

He continued with a smile. But maybe both our achievements will be outstripped by these funnel cakes.

"This is delicious," Elspeth admitted with some amount of visible surprise a short while later as they walked away from the vendor with hot funnel cake wrapped in cheese cloth. While she had her doubts that her own accomplishments trumped much yet, the promised dessert was not a disappointment.

"I hardly think installing medical offices throughout the Anirian territories will trump something so divine," the Lady chuckled, her breath accidentally sending a billow of powdered sugar everywhere. Including Ollie.

"Oh... drat."

 

[Olvir]

"Perhaps something to offer at every hospita-" Before he could finish Elspeth's breath launched a billow of sucrose at his face.

The puffed cloud of powdered sugar covered Olvir's shining armor and half his face, eyes blinking rapidly in self defenses at the sickly sweet assault. His head shook for a moment, utterly startled as he let out a small chuckle.

"Well." He said, reaching up to wipe at his face. "Maybe not when someone might have difficulty breathing."

A small cough echoed from his lips as he laughed.

 

[Elspeth Sirl]

"Nor in the surgery," Elsi smirked, taking the corner of her medic's apron to wipe clean the powder from his armor, "my apologies," another soft laugh followed, "I had not realized this treat was weaponized."

Perhaps they ought to make it part of the tourney.

"Are you ready for your challenges today? What all are you competing in?"

 

[Olvir]

"Well, don't let any of the Dreadlords know, they might confiscate them for their own use." Ollie jested with a wide smile, watching as she dabbed some of the powder off his armor. Struggling not to reach out and clasp her hand between his own.

"I am as ready as I can be." He had been practicing for months, both with Amell and others. Hell, his own sword had been giving him instruction, which tough odd, had certainly improved his overall abilities. "I was only going to enter the Sword."

Ollie said with a smile. "But then I saw the roster for the hand to hand, and well, I'm not sure if you heard but our own Prince Anireth is here."

Before his departure to who knows where, Wil and Ollie had been friends. Not as close as he and Elias had been, but the list of noble children of their age being a rather short one. "And I couldn't resist seeing the look on Wil's face."

Ollie chuckled, shaking his head.

"If I make it far enough to face him anyway." He just hoped his muscles remembered the training he'd received in Dornoch.

 

[Colette]

Such a humble thing.

I try to learn something from everyone I meet but admittingly Ive not met many willing Anirians. Show me how the Anirian Guard trains its archers?

After a brief pause Colette showed Fi the ways in which the Anirians took aim, how they held their draw strings, and Cole demonstrated precisely why she'd been naturally talented at it. "In Vel Anir it's all about patience and precision," she relaxed and her breathing slowed, vision trained in on the target down range.

By the time her little demonstration had finished the next archery round was set to begin.

 

[Aelita]

Aelita placed Edric’s bet on Lord Idren and continued on with the group. As they walked, Aelita’s eyes caught Wil fidgeting with his ring. Yet, she gave no words to the prince on that.

Eventually, Edric led the two to his staging area. There, Aelita’s eyes caught sight of Dreadlord Duncan Terrin. Her face maintained a smile as Duncan approached and introduced himself as Samon.

Aelita gave a nod to Samon, “A pleasure to meet you.”

She did not approach Samon as Wil did.

Not saying anything else, Aelita’s eyes panned around the staging area – casually examining her surroundings.

 

[Edric]

Duncan, to his credit, was as smooth as butter. Shaking Wil's hand and smiling wide as he motioned to the two newcommers. "Of course! Of course! Right over there! Front row seats along with me!"

The Rogue Dreadlord said as he gently began to move Wil in that direction. A spot that really was basically inside the ring, where servants where meant to stand in case their masters were injured or something of the like.

"I'll meet you over there, just have to get Lord Idren ready!" 'Samon' said, letting Aelita and Wil walk away before he suddenly rounded on Edric. His face flickered into rage for a moment, hand settling on the younger Rogue's armored shoulder as he shoved him towards his horse. "Do you know who the fuck that is?!"

He whispered. "Uhh, some noble, I think. The Girl is an Initiate, supposed to baby-"

"That's the bloody Prince of Vel Anir you fucking moron. William Anireth. You're parading around with the fucker like you're best friends." Edric frowned as the details were finally imparted on him, and he found himself thinking just how fucking weird nobles were once again. He'd never expected the Prince of Vel Anir to be like...well, like Wil was.

"Oh." Edric said. "I thought he would have been more of an asshole."

He admitted, Duncan letting out a loud sigh as he buried his face in his palm. "Just...just get on the fucking Horse."

 

[Wilhelm Anireth]

"What a nice man," Wil commented as they settled down on what appeared to be two of the best seats in the whole arena. This was where the real action was, not up in the stands. Here they might even get sprayed with some of the blood if the lance managed to pierce their maille! He cared enough to hope it wasn't Ildren's, but not enough to hope it didn't happen at all. They watched, unable to hear, as said servant them seemed to launch into the Lord and give him an earful.

"He reminds me of my old guardsman, he always used to give me a bollocking when I was late. You need people like that around you more than the bowing and scraping sort. Someone to keep you honest."

 

[Aelita]

After the quick introductions, Wil and Aelita were ushered to their new seats. As they moved on, Aelita kept her eyes near Wil. Smiling as usual. Her eyes blinking, breathing deepening.

Once “Samon” left, Aelita’s eyes panned around the arena. Breathing continued to slow. Her smile faded for a moment as her eyes drifted down. Wil’s words reached her ears, but she showed no initial reaction.

Aelita’s head turned back to Wil after his last sentence. Her smile returned.

“Someone like a Dreadlord?” Aelita asked in a slightly upbeat tone.

Before Wil could really respond, Aelita then leaned forward - toward the Prince’s ear.

“That man, Samon, I’m sure's a Dreadlord,” Aelita informed Wil.

 

[Edric]

Edric did indeed, get on the fucking horse.

The new information that Wil was the Prince of Vel Anir was neatly filed away in the back of his head somewhere, and focus was drawn to the competition ahead. A skill which every Dreadlord and Initiate had been taught at their time of the Academy.

Pulling his mount forward towards the staging area Edric was almost entirely drawn to his opponent. The man whore armor lacquered in a bright green, upon his shield was a depiction of what appeared to be a vine wrapping around a sword. Edric recognized nothing about him, but as he was announced a great cheer went up through the crowd.

'Samon' meanwhile stepped back over towards the other Anirians.

A wide smile sat on his face as he approached Aelita and Wil. "Great seats, huh?"

He asked, moving to the side of Wil behind the railing which would protect them if any horses, or riders for that matter, went berserk.

"Never much was one for the jousts myself." Samon said, grinning slightly. "But you can't beat a view like this."

The announcer turned, and called out Edric's false name. A heraldry that received but a smattering of applause and a loud; "WOO!" from Samon.

 

[Wilhelm Anireth]

"A what?" Wil stared at Aelita as though she had grown a second head.

"How did a random noble get himself a Dreadlord?"

He would be the first to admit the politics of what had happened over the last year had all but passed him by. His sister kept going on about Vel Anir being different, but Wil couldn't see how. The noble houses still schemed - his mother had tried to marry him off twice already! - and the Dreadlords still went about with faces like ice. It just seemed someone else held the leash. At least to him. But then, what he knew of Vel Anir had been told to him by drunken guards so what did he really know?

When Samon returned he smoothed his face over.

"I've heard of this man, the Saint, they call him I believe. He's said to be a Templar."

 

[Aelita]

"I'm sure," Aelita reaffirmed to Wil, "Saw him once? I think his name is Duncan?"

In truth, Aelita's passing with Duncan occured in the past - before Gilram defected from the state with many other Dreadlords. They never even spoke to each other.

Continuing, Aelita added, "And Ildren... pitched his voice when I appeared?"

Revealing that she had heard Edric talking moments before she "materialized" at the restaurant.

However, "Samon" returned to the stands before the conversation could go much further. Aelita maintained a cordial smile upon her face his presence. Her eyes looked out to the arena to see the green knight known as the "Saint."

The Saint got strapped in and readied himself for the bout.

"Green's an interesting choice," Aelita commented upon the Saint's chosen paintjob.

 

[Elspeth Sirl]

Well, dont let any of the Dreadlords know, they might confiscate them for their own use. Ollie jested with a wide smile, watching as she dabbed some of the powder off his armor. Struggling not to reach out and clasp her hand between his own.

I am as ready as I can be. He had been practicing for months, both with Amell and others. Hell, his own sword had been giving him instruction, which tough odd, had certainly improved his overall abilities. I was only going to enter the Sword.

Ollie said with a smile. But then I saw the roster for the hand to hand, and well, Im not sure if you heard but our own Prince Anireth is here.

Before his departure to who knows where, Wil and Ollie had been friends. Not as close as he and Elias had been, but the list of noble children of their age being a rather short one. And I couldnt resist seeing the look on Wils face.

Ollie chuckled, shaking his head.

If I make it far enough to face him anyway. He just hoped his muscles remembered the training hed received in Dornoch.

As clean as she was able to get him, Elspeth gladly listened while tempting the dangerous treat once more. With a bit of delicacy and held breath, she managed to take another bite without assaulting Ollie with another cloud of powdered sugar.

"Is he?" she asked with a blink, "I had not yet a chance to view the roster for the tourney. Our troubles on the road here rather stole my time..." though the mention of Prince Wilhelm conjured memories of attending various royal balls in Vel Anir. She was fairly certain she'd shared a dance with the Prince ... or had it been one of his brothers?

The dancing had never been of much interest for her at those events.

"I should think it would be rather unnerving to be matched with Anirian Royalty," Elspeth mused aloud, "I'm uncertain of the repercussions should you harm one of them in open competition...."

 

[Edric]

"Aye!" 'Samon' said with a nod, glancing at Aelita for a brief moment before passing his gaze over towards Wil. "I believe he's from the Emerald Spire sect."

He mused for a moment, then slowly returned his attention back towards the jousting ground. The 'Saint' was squaring up against The Black Wyvern, both knights giving each other a small salute just as Duncan had taught Edric to do. The anouncer spoke some platitudes, which 'Samon' quickly ignored. "Their fortress lays not too far from here. I believe their Chapter devotes itself to the breeding of the Great Eagles."

Edric, entirely unaware of the conversation being had on the sidelines carefully watched his opponent.

In his chest he could feel his heart thunder.

He steeled himself, taking slow breaths and remembering the insult that had been dealt to him by the oddsmakers. You're a dreadlord.

Edric reminded himself.

You've fucking killed witches, fought a goddamned dragon. Fingers tightened on the reins. This isn't shit.

The thought rang through his mind, and the horn sounded. Almost instantly he kicked his horse forward, and in a furious charge both riders threw themselves down the lane. In that moment everything else was forgotten. Aelita, The Prince of Vel Anir. All the troubles and tribulations Edric had gone through.

All he felt was a rush, a single strum of adrenaline.

Then he felt his lance shatter.

 

[Olvir]

"Nonsense! We used to be friends." Olvir countered, though immediately frowned as he properly processed Elspeth's words. "At least...I thought him my friend."

Ollie hoped Wil had considered him the same.

He reached up, gently running a hand under the slight stubble that decorated his chin. "I mean I haven't seen him in...well since he left, but I can't imagine Wil would be upset if I..."

Shit.

The Royal Family had always been an...odd thing in Vel Anir. Technically nothing more than a puppet, the King had little true authority back before the Republic had risen. Even now he was little more than a figurehead, though at least that was now well known.

Despite that though, Elspeth was right. It wouldn't look particularly good if the son of a Great House beat up the Prince.

Provided he could even manage to do so.

"I'm sure it will be fine." Ollie said, worry now creasing his smile slightly. "Whats the worst that could happen?"

He asked, ever the fool.

 

[Elspeth Sirl]

"I dislike that question," Elspeth responded with a wary eye to him.

A raucous cheer went up from the jousting arena and quickly the worry dispersed from her immediate thoughts, "Oh - the jousting ring! Let's find a spot at the fence."

She had her intended's arm in her own and was leading him off through the crowds with their pastry treat securely tucked in her other hand. Upon reaching the fence surrounding the arena, Elsi waded through until she found an open spot. It was still early in the day and the real matches wouldn't begin until much later. These pre-qualifiers were often small Lords or hedge Knights looking to make name and credit for themselves. They arrived just after the first round of The Saint and the Black Wyvern to loud applause, jeers, and general delight of the carnage on display. This mattered rather little to Elspeth who promptly handed the pastry over to Olvir in order to climb the fence for a better view.

Much to the amused glances of other people nearby, Elsi swung one leg and then the other over the top rail of the fence to sit perched next to Ollie with a smile.

"So this is what it feels like to be the tallest person in the room," she smirked down at him, now finding herself taller than even he, "it's a bit windy up here."

 

[Olvir]

"It'll be fine!" Ollie insisted with a smile, banking on optimism and the goodwill of an old friend. They were at a fighting tournament for Kress' sake, no one could get upset with him for doing his best in a fight.

Besides, for all he knew Wil was some sort of fighting master by now. The Prince had certainly been away long enough to visit every famed monastery and training academy out there. "I'll ju-"

Before he finished Elsi suddenly seemed to realize something. His eyebrows rose, and the smile on his face flickered into pure amusement as his betrothed suddenly shot off like a rocket. Taking him by the hand and charging through the crowd until they were standing at the side of the arena.

He watched her, no, admired her as she plucked herself off the ground and swung her legs over the railing. Perching herself pristinely and offering him a smirk. "Now you know why I always tie up my hair."

Ollie quipped as the horn sounded, the 'Saint' and the 'Black Wyvern' barrelling forward at one another.