Forums » Fantasy Roleplay » For the Crown of Laurels (closed)

To the common elven folk, all seemed well and in order, but peace and quiet was not a privilege afforded to all those who resided or visited the city or elven domain for the matter.

No sooner the Council of the Elders had been dismissed, lord Kalkas had a quiet word with lord Lionel, dispatching the captain of the guards and archers right away, arms crossed along the chest and watching the city below from the high tower

Lionel wasted no time at all in tracking down Corym who had taken up his rest atop a tree and motioned the men in his charge and command so as to position the archers, scouts and guards strategically well enough that the outlaw couldn't easily escape them.

Whilst he felt pity for the youth, he had received his orders and be it far from him to show any defiance or rebellion whilst actively serving in the royal army.

He raised his hand to stop any guard or archer from shooting or harming Corym for now, opting to address the youth and give him a fair chance and opportunity to cooperate.



"Corym, disgraced scion of the house of Spectabilis, I have been sent to arrest and seize you with immediate effect and bring you to the barracks. Jail awaits you and it shall be your shelter for as long as you remain upon our soil.

You know our traditions, customs and laws well enough to remain beyond our border all these years, it would have been wiser to have stayed roaming the lands beyond freely than returning. Your defiance, entering our lands, renders you worthy of imprisonment like all traitors do and it is my task to see it happen.

If you come willingly and surrender without offering defiance or resistance and walk the walk of shame to the guards outpost, I will speak to the Council of Elders on your behalf that you may be allowed to compete at the tournaments and tasks so you stand a fair chance to attain the Crown of Laurels.

But... like all men of good standing... your word is your bond. You are to swear that you will hand yourself over no sooner each task is accomplished, should you survive it.

You are a captive and shall remain a prisoner, before and after each quest until a king or queen is elected and they issue you a royal pardon, should they choose to do so.

I may be a member of the Council but I have no power to forgive you from the charge of treason which carries either exile or imprisonment.

Now, your father used to be my mentor and a good friend of mine in a long gone past, for the sake of our bond of friendship... I am prepared to take your place behind bars and replace you whilst you undertake each challenge. I entreat you to do your earnest at each given task and return promptly afterwards, that you may prove yourself a better man, before the council and all elves.

Know that, as my protegee, if you were to escape and never return, I will pay the ultimate price for vouching for you, but I am prepared to take my chances and risks with you. The forests needs a new ruler and fate may have it that it is you who will attain he crown of laurels after all." explained Lionel going further than anyone would have dared for a well known outlaw

"If you refuse to surrender right away, however, you leave me no choice but to have you hunted down like a criminal... do not force my hand, for I am under orders of shoot to kill should you cause the least trouble..." warned Lionel

Corym winced at being disturbed, especially after having just settled down for what he had hoped would be an uneventful nights rest. He rolled over slowly, looking at the small army that had formed around the tree below. 'Just lovely, Kalkas had to piss around and try arresting me after the ceremony instead of before.' He thought with irritation. It looked like there was no chance of running, not that he intended to. That didn't stop his mouth, however.

"What's this? The council is willing to let me enter the capital unmolested, but won't let me sleep outside? Afraid I'll sew sedition among the contestants? Or is this a ploy to keep me from making preparations between trials?" He asked with sarcasm, though he felt the former might be true.

"Whatever, it's not like you give me much of a choice. While I was outside our territory in exile, I might as well have been dead to everyone anyway, not like being in a cell will be much different. This trial is my only chance to change that, I doubt anyone else would excuse me if they took the throne." Corym said bitterly, making slow movements to descend the tree to not provoke the archers. Approaching Lionel, he kept his hands raised in a sign of submission.

"Tell me though Lionel, just what did my father mentor you in? The Spectabilis family have been cultivators and farmers for generations, what could a high ranking Captain such as yourself possibly learn from him?" He asked with cutting skepticism. He had never heard of this supposed connection, and a part of him suspected the Noble was just trying to appeal to him through some sort of sense of feigned connection to Irving Spectabilis. Regardless, whether he was telling the truth or not, Corym wished the Captain would dispense with the flowery language and get to the point. He knew what he did, he didn't need the lord's formality.

Lionel approached Corym disarming him and handing the weaponry to the closest guard choosing to shackle the prisoner himself, least the other guards were unduly brutish and cruel at the task and more than willing to undertake it.

"The general has placed you under arrest that you may not incite others to sedition and rebellion, even if this hampers your ability to prepare for the trials ahead. You are advised to speak little, preferably no one, and be very careful and mindful of your words and attitude towards others, especially the nobility..." warned Lionel in a lower voice.

"As for your father, he taught me all I know about healing plants and the edible wild ones when I was very young, which has allowed for my survival on many battles and stranded circumstances and his knowledge is now taught to recruits as well" explained Lionel softly closing the manacles and leading the way.

"Get walking behind me and disregard any stares or comments from others... it will all soon pass when a new king or queen is elected. You may be tossed mud or moss or rotten fruit by the angered mobs but worry not, I will allow you to bathe when we get to the barracks.

There are those among our elvish people who believe rebellion and sedition caused the king's heartache and death and the diseases that now haunt our forests and threaten our survival..." sighed Lionel certain the king had died of natural causes but unable to prove nor disprove either claim

"The members of the Council of Elders have the opportunity to petition the new ruler for royal favours on the coronation ceremony and mine... shall be your freedom... if you live to the tell the tale of the quests you shall face at the tournament" commented Lionel motioning the guards to form two lines and flank either side of the captive, whose chains, he himself took into his hand as he lead the captive in a parade through the city markets and main squares as they made their way to the appointed jail.

Liam was about to say something to Amara before she had seemed to see something and went off to investigate. He looked after her in come confusion, but after a few seconds just shook his head in resignation. He turned to the stall, perusing the inventory that the merchant had on offer, but he didn't really need anything, as the large claymore on his back was in fine condition. He did look at a pair of black leather vambraces, however, and thought that if he were to get anything, that would be it.

The young nobleman cut a quick glance at Varen, wondering what he should say. After several seconds, he finally said, "I saw you appear out of nothing inside the council chamber. Care to explain how you did that?" Liam put a small smile on his face that only slightly lifted the corners of his mouth, but one could indeed tell that he was smiling.

Corym had to smirk at Lionel removing his weapons. While the handaxe on his person was obvious, the two dozen or so knives were layered in the folds of his coat, in the sides of his boots, and sleeves. He was slightly bemused as the remaining armaments were removed and put in a tidy stack. He hadn't expected to be arrested, but he had the satisfaction of knowing he was prepared enough for a scuffle if it came to it. His real weapon, after all, didn't come in the form of a tool or an armament.

"Sedition and rebellion caused the king to croak, huh? That'd be funny if it weren't for the sad fact people have come to believe such baseless superstition." He grumbled, as if he needed more things to be disappointed with.

At Lionel's further explanation of his connections to his father, his face softened a bit. The Captain spoke truthfully, and it seemed even now, the Spectabilis family's contributions extended beyond the deepwoods. It was a small consolation, but the latter half of Lionel's words to him drew his attention from his musing.

"You would petition for me?... No, I can't have you do that. If what you say is true, that would make you look like a sympathizer with my treasonous ways. Besides, even if I survive these trials, even if someone with the power to grant pardon does so, it won't change how people have come to view my household. Unless I or some other member of my family gains back the favor of the people, it won't matter who is on the throne." His voice faltered, he pulled a manacled hand up to his face."Cassia... Rue... They knew this as well."

Corym lapsed into relative silence after that. In that moment a part of him was glad he was chained, so the crowds they passed might interpret his behavior as that of a cowardly criminal, not a sibling grieving loss.

Lionel sighed, aware of the grieving silence that followed and tried to encourage and advise the youth as best as he could.

"You will earn that respect back, one small step at a time, by the feats of passing each contest task successfully so people speak of your skill, and by handing yourself over to your captivity in a public and swift manner, so that people speak of your respect for our laws and your sentencing.

Ensure you show deference to the Council members and humility to lord Kalkas and the royal guards in charge of you, from here onwards.

Obey all the given chores promptly whilst under captivity, and you will see that people will become more forgiving and sympathetic to your misfortune and cause." Assured Lionel with confidence , growing silent as they passed the markets and the other contestants along the way until they reached the barracks. However, much to Lionel's displeasure, the appointed cell wasn't an ordinary one concealed in the caverns of the barracks like all other prisoners, as Lionel had expected, rather, they were sent back out to the main markets square where Lionel found the embarrassing destination.

It was a cage that had been placed in the center of the square for all passers-by to see Corym in display, courtesy of Kalkas, affording him little privacy, dignity, silence or shelter.

It was of low height, decreasing the further he walked in so as to force the captive to crawl or kneel and Lionel knew it would likely get cold, freezing cold in the dead of night, and burning hot in the middle of the noon heat or even colder if it snowed the following day, for the weather had grown unbearably harsh and completely unpredictable since the passing of the king.

The weather was tamed by the elven king and the lack of his presence lead to uncontrollable weather that caused strife for far too long.

Kalkas was watching from a distance, waiting for the arrival of his special guest, pleased to see Lionel had succeeded in the task of seizing the traitor and locking him up.

Once a couple of guards had been posted to watch the cage and ensure Corym wouldn't escape, Lionel left.

He ventured into the barracks and returned with a bucket of warm water and a cloth, that Corym could wash himself a little, giving him some time to do so.

He brought a heap of hay for the ground that Corym may sleep a little more comfortable and returned yet again with a bowl of hot broth, some dried bread, a cup of warm wine and a tankard of water.

"Eat, drink and try to get some rest if you can, you may be given chores yet, hopefully not many, for it will soon be dark and the moon is rising already" muttered Lionel, passing Corym a thin blanket for better measure even if Kalkas wouldn't approve

"You will get one meal a day, at sunset, and water throughout the day. You also are permitted to accept food and drink from passers-by, if you wish it, but gifted items require approval by the guards first. Watch what you speak to those who come to see you. Anyone can approach you, for better or worse, and all guards will report to Kalkas every last word you speak or gesture you do" warned in a lower tone, locking the door behind him.

"If you need me, ask the guards to send for me, I will try to see you between my watch rounds and military duties if I can, but please bear in mind that the Council requires a lot of dedication as does the royal army, more so with so many orc incursions as of late. Take no offence and do not despair if I cannot come to you, I shall certainly see you at crack of dawn" promised Lionel softly before walking away to report back to Kalkas and ready the party that would venture into the woods to stop the orcs approach the city

The walk to the barracks had given Corym time to regain some of his composure. When he discovered that plans had changed and it appeared he was to receive public humiliation, he grew suspicious. This was not what he was expecting, nor did Lionel from the looks of it. Corym resolved to trust the guard captain for now, and was grateful for the other small comforts offered to him in spite of accommodations. He tried his best to show he understood, and watched the captain depart.



"So, Kalkas has decided to make an example out of me?" He thought as he ate. He already suspected the council member had no intention of giving him a fair chance, but this turn of events made no logical sense. Corym could just as easily been arrested on sight, and hidden away from the world in a cell. Instead, he was put in display in a tiny cage. "He's trying to break me, that's what this is, surely."

Once he was finished, he scanned the square for the others he had seen in the council hall. In spite of Lionel's warning to not speak unnessicarily while under watch, Corym was already making plans on how he could communicate to them. Until then, he made an effort to get as comfortable as the small cage could allow and get some sleep, hopefully without further interruption.

The Knight could not see her facial expressions, due to the protection of her elegant veil. Albeit, he seen her hands clench up into two great fists—it felt awkward to see such lovely flesh go from delicate looking to defensive.

Then Amara relaxed and her voice came as sweet as a fairy born in the birth of Spring. It was the opposite bartitone of Gweyr who made his own voice sound soft. When she apologized, he smiled, with deep dimples on his cheeks and was going to respond, thus he was cut off by a marching band of armed Elves.

They nearly shoved the human aside and in his good instinct he had no choice but to grab Amaranthine’s arm to hold her steady, less she be trampled over like a dog as well. He pulled her back and the elf number naturally avoided her. Instead their eyes found the deep elf who rested comfortably above the tree.

The councilman, Lionel had called for Spectabilis’ arrest. Valens swallowed, seeing the crowd of witnesses all gather around to hear this abrupt spectacle. The scene happened right in front of he and Amara’s eyes, so they did not have to follow—the public shame was brought before him.

“Forgive amin ten' touchien lle. Amin just ume il- merna lle crone, amin Arwen.” He said to her.

When he felt her solid forearm, he noticed that Amara was much stronger than her petite frame had given off. He felt his own muscles work hard to move her from danger. He exhaled, probably still tired from the fray outside the city. The orc threat was serious and it was not so glamorous as Gweyr may have led on. The Rangers did manage to push them back to buy the city time—but winter was here now and the hatchlings outnumbered them greatly. It was only a matter of time before they would bring their hordes to this very capital.

Valens was no coward though, his sword was sharpened and his bow was tightened for the ready. He would gladly offer his own self to see that this great capital settlement, Haramon and all her citizens remain safe.

“Lle (use -aya at the end of the verb) esta rato. Lle caela y' alta re tul're. Amin wish lle quel favor.” He said to Amara.

His silver hues adored everything about her. He studied her kindness and he was very appreciative that she took the time to visit and meet him.

Amara glances over at the soldiers as they approach. At first she adjusts her veil and casts her eyes downwards in deference but when one of these men shoves Valens aside, her grey eyes suddenly flash brightly at such an unearned and brutish insult. When the knight grabs her arm to pull her back his intention may be to save her from being trampled but what he actually does is pull her back from physically confronting his attacker.

Silently the two stand by and watch as Corym is arrested with an unnecessary amount of pomp and circumstance. Despite her annoyance with the soldiers, Amara watches the 'show' with keen interest. She is usually careful to keep her head down, avoiding guards and the law in general wherever possible, not that she does much that might be considered illegal in any case. As such she isn't exactly well versed in what 'being arrested' is supposed to look like. Nevertheless something about this whole thing feels...off to her. It's almost as if it is a performance for the benefit of the crowd instead of an actual attempt to bring a dangerous criminal to justice. She cannot help but wonder what it is this Corym is guilty of besides an excess of passion.

As the soldiers finally begin to march away with their captive in tow, Amara turns back to her companion, her expression troubled for more than one reason now. This is the third time since the council meeting ended that she's felt her control over her temper slipping. It's this place, more than likely. And these people. It's the stress and adrenaline of the situation she finds herself in no doubt. Still, this could end up being her downfall if she isn't careful. That traitorous heart of hers that Gweyr warned her about rears its ugly head once again.

Valens' words cause Amara's head to shake, sending strawberry blond locks flying around her face and shoulders as well as causing the fabric of her veil to ripple gracefully. "N'uma. Amin - ta - ta naa tereva. Amin rangwa. Lle lava touch amin iire lle anta."

She nods at his recommendation that she should rest. A good night's sleep will no doubt help clear her head and center her for the tasks ahead. "Amin naa. Yeste' amin anta a' -" Before she can finish the sentence, however, she looks around and suddenly notices that most of the shops are in the process of closing up. It seems she has lost her chance to replace her sword.

A long, frustrated sigh escapes her lips, causing her veil to flutter rather wildly. "Ri' il..." She offers Valens a cock-eyed smile, an honest sort of smile that causes the tops of her cheeks to rise and the edges of her eyes to crinkle just a tad. "Ta maa ve' amin rusva megil anta a' be faarea."

Through it all, Valens managed to keep his smile genuine—not losing his composure. Being a lesser man in his father’s eyes made him immune to public mistreatment. It is what made him mentally stronger. He always had to be the best at whatever he did because he was a no good bastard—his mother a wench, whore and despised home wrecker.

Silver hues studied Amara and he could sense her anger—a fire in her eyes that even her veil could not hide. He watched her fingers finally relax—her nails the purest ivory, probably sweet to the taste. He closed his eyes and imagined what it felt like if he had the honor to see her face and feel her skin. Such thoughts softened his eyes. Then she tensed up again—her words he even struggled to make out in elven. He scratched his head and rubbed his smooth chin, whilst making something out...

“Sword? You broke your sword?” He said in common, accidentally.

His common dialect was much more natural since it held the accent of his people. Albeit, he still could hold himself well in an elven court—if he ever had to face such. Why was she so angry? He wondered. He did not want her anger to be used unnecessarily. Anger was a good thing; considering the situation of the forests around them. But how she tooled it would determine everything. He wished that he could tell her this but the Knight was terrible with words and he did not want to overstep his boundaries.

His light eyes scanned the markets and seen the last merchant who was closing up. Valens spoke kindly to him, knowing that Amara needed a blade for the morrrow.

“Sorry to disturb you sir, but can I still browse your blades?” Valens asked.

The elf merchant snarled, “Sorry, we’re closed. And even if I was open...I wouldn’t sell my swords to the likes of you.” With that he and his guards tallied up their items and went toward the residential district.

Moments later, Valens and Amara were left alone in the streets. He put his head down and shook his head. “I am sorry.” He said. Then he nodded and agreed to himself that his sword would serve no purpose as a spectator. He unsheathed it and Amara would see the curved elven craft. It nearly glowed in the night—the ore so pure. He offered it up to her, sheathe and all. But he would not bow less he might offend her again.

“A' elea lle smile er re be worth sina sacrifice. Caela ta. Ar' never demada amin. ”

Amaranthine watches in surprise as Valens suddenly walks away from her after apparently only partially understanding what she said last. Large, expressive grey eyes blink as they follow his strong back for several moments before she lets out a soft, fabric fluttering sigh. The elf hadn't thought that the simple knowledge that her sword was in need of replacing would bring an end to their conversation, but...so be it. People had walked away from her for less.

Really, it's probably for the best. She never should have followed after him. She should have talked to...what had he said his name was? Lion? He, at least, is a competitor. She stood a chance of learning something that might help her tomorrow. Instead she had followed her...let's call it her heart. Amara couldn't feel more stupid if she tried.

With that thought in her head, the masked woman turns away, thus missing the exchange between Valens and the swordsmith. It's a good thing too, as his insulting and dismissive tone would no doubt have been the final straw atop the already fragile control Amara has on her temper. Instead, she is completely flabbergasted when the human suddenly returns, apologizing and then offering her his own beautiful and deadly blade with the a level of humility and respect she's never once in her life been accustomed to receiving.

She's actually stunned into silence for a moment before reaching out tentative to the point of shaking fingers to wrap around the sheath just below the cross guard. She doesn't pull the weapon towards herself just yet though.

"Naa lle...naa lle sure?" The words are almost a whisper tinged with a hint of reverence. Her eyes gaze adoringly down at the sword where is still held in both their hands before she finally looks back up into Valen's face once more. "Amin smile naa dolen, nan' amin ona lle amin diola. Amin il- oio demada lle. Manka amin lanta, ta entula a' lle, amin vesta ta."

---

THE NEXT DAY

---

It was the dawn of what some would hope was the reckoning of their future ruler. Ten miles east of the great spiraling city of Haramon, the daunting wall of greenery towered over those who approached. The maze was certainly at least a mile high of twined flora of all shape and size, as well as the occasional patches of stonewall, brick, and other solid material. The vastness of the maze's construct was an evident landmark often used by many who flew, though most took care not to fly directly over the maze for one reason or another. Some by reason of superstition, and others simply because of rumor and caution.

The Councilmembers sat on raised seats, much like a jury overseeing a trial. Although it would not be useful in seeing over the walls, the note of ceremonial decor was one that elevated them over where the competitors may have stood. Aside the entrance to the maze closest to the group, a large '3' was plotted in colored flowers among the lichen. The yawning opening of the maze seemed to lead into shadows, if not quite darkness, as the walls were high enough to filter and almost block out most of the surrounding sun aside from that from straight above.

It was Nemoto this time who spoke to greet the competitors as they arrived at the appointed time. "Welcome, welcome, all of you, to the first trial towards the crown. Before we begin, we have randomly selected your teams." He pulled a scroll from the inside of his cloak, unrolling it. "Liam Haleri and Lady Illy'vana," he read aloud, voice clear despite its mellow nature. "Amaranthine and Xyla Kailani. Varen and Corym Spectabilis..."

He continued to read out the names, one by one, until the list was finished and he rolled the scroll back closed.

"From the end of our time together, you will have half an hour for you and your partner to seek an unclaimed entrance into the maze. From then, you will all begin. Lord Mal'luch and Lord Elmtree await you in the maze's center, and the final three teams will be disqualified from this tournament. However, it will not be so easy."

He knew the hour was getting late for Amara. Valen’s would play no vital role in this game of royal conquest. He would remain on the sideline, humbly. When he sought a sword for the lady, a part of him was glad she did not witness the treatment he received from the merchant. Another part of him wished that she did hear him and she destroyed him and his guards so the city could witness it and together they could cut down any who supported racism. But that was the devious side of him; he was a guest here—a bastard that had no true home; he was just a wanderer amongst his elven friends. Albeit he had studied Amara’s previous anger and knew it could be powerful if wielded righteously.

His silver hues watched her, when she took the sword to hold it and observe the fine craft. Her slim fingers held the pommel and it looked natural for her to hold—the bright hue from the elven ore reflected off her skin and made her hands and arms look even more beautiful. He could not look any long—such was the weakness of man. He could not lust after her lisp’s that hid beneath the veil, else he’d lose his dignity. She whispered her sweet words and he kept his smile—deep dimples that made one feel at home when you looked into the bastards visage.

“Amin will il- be joinien lle e' i' games ikotane amin uma il- anta ta. Keep ta ar' ta will keep lle. Ta naa an yaara megil tuulo' i' tel’quessir. Hone ta eithel ve' others ume n'ala lle.”

He gave her time to take that in, but he did not wish to take anymore of her time. He had held her back long enough. “I must retire now, Amaranthine.” He spoke in common now. “Thank you for visiting me. I hope you excel and claim the throne. The forests needs someone who can understand it.”

(End Valens...on to the next day)

The next day, Amaranthine finds it difficult to concentrat as the elven lords speak their piece as her thoughts swirling madly in her head. She had noticed Corym in his cage on her way to find a room to stay in the night before and the image had burned its way into her thoughts. Those bars couldn't be called a prison for all the pretty words of the arresting officer and she couldn't stand the sight of the deep wood elf crouched down like an animal. No one deserves that kind of treatment no matter their crime, and especially not displayed for the whole town to see. It made her sick to her stomach just looking at it all.

On top of that, every time her fingers close around the hilt of the sword on her hip, the image of Valens smiling up at her with those heart stopping dimples in his cheeks flashes across her vision. It's incredibly distracting and only emphasizes to her that she really needs to begin avoiding him in the future. Then again, that would be extremely rude. Valens had been nothing but kind to her and on top of that it might cause Gweyr to begin to target her. She may not like the woman or the idea of her being queen, but she also doesn't want to make herself a target of such a powerful and well trained psychic just yet. Not until it's absolutely necessary at the very least.

On top of all that, she still has a potentially deadly challenge ahead of her, the first in her fight for the crown. Her partner is...who? Well, it isn't Gweyr. Thank all the gods who never in her life listened to her prayers before for that at least. Xyla Kailani. That isn't a name she heard spoken yesterday. To make sure that she can find her partner, she raises a hand when her name is called to identify herself. Hopefully the other person will come find her. It isn't that hard to see her standing near a head taller than most of the other contestants save for a specific few.

The night had passed rather uneventfully, if somewhat uncomfortably for Croym. Lionel had been right, it did get rather cold in the evenings. Unfortunately, in spite of his promise, Lionel had not shown to escort Corym from his prison at dawn. It was a small negative to the captain's small rapport, but Corym supposed in spite of his kind words, there were more pressing matters to attend to. Besides, much as it was comforting to have a potential sympathizer of high rank, that didn't change his present circumstances one bit.

He was in no mood to talk upon first waking up in the morning anyway. Being allowed to straighten out his legs as he was marched to the maze was a welcome change of pace. Freedom from the shackles was also a relief, permitting him to do some preliminary stretches before stowing away his armaments in their proper places.

When he arrived, Corym surveyed the scene. There were more faces in the crowd of hopefuls than the first day, but he supposed that was to be expected. What he was really interested in was the results of the match up. Upon hearing Varen was to be his partner in the competition, Corym's demeanor eased. He was still unsure about the human's motives or abilities, but it was better than being paired with someone who he had not had the opportunity to speak to, or someone whom he clashed with on ideals. He made his move to find Varen as soon as possible and make their way to one of the entrances without further interaction with any of the others. The sooner he was able to speak in private with the human out of the meddling gaze of Kalkas and his men, the better.

The following day, well past dawn, well after the sun had risen, Lionel finally arrived at the maze looking tired after a lengthy night of fighting orcs at the border and watching over the city afterwards.

At the request of lord Lionel also came general Kalkas and lord Oaken, of a lower rank than Lionel himself. Even lord Elmtree had come along, all of them approaching the maze competitors

Upon reaching Corym, Lionel turned to Oaken and Kalkas, his gaze often trailing to Elmtree.

"Before you, noble council members, I have vouched for this captive, Corym of the house of Spectabilis. I demand the right of substitution that he may be allowed to compete at the tournament and freely roam the city, here onwards, and perhaps claim the crown of laurels in due course" explained Lionel, Kalkas almost dismayed at the comment, glaring with contempt at Corym himself.



"Do you realize what you are asking for? the danger you are placing yourself into over a pesky prisoner? Should this traitor become a fugitive, you will never be released from the shame and chains of captivity, lord Lionel.

Should he commit theft, your hand will be the one cut off instead of his, should he fight and scuffle, you will get the lashes he deserves and should his penalties warrant it, such as his notorious sedition and venomous words filled with rebellion, his death penalty would befall upon you instead" warned Kalkas alarmed and sternly



"I know... my liege. Still I have chosen to give Corym of the house of Spectabilis this chance that he may prove himself a better man, a worthy citizen, cleanse his name and reputation and restore honour upon his tarnished household name." nodded Lionel accepting the potential demise that Kalkas had referred to, should Corym turn his back and disappoint Lionel in any way.

"Very well... if you insist... lord Oaken will take charge of your duties during your incarceration..." muttered Kalkas

"As much as I wish to deny your request, as a member of the council and noble lord of this realm, it is within your rights to make this demand and none, but the king, can deny it. Given we have no king, consider your right of substitution granted." admitted Kalkas clearly disgusted that he was bound by the law and customary to allow this exchange.



"Lord Lionel, surrender your sword and armour to lord Oaken and extend your wrists, you will be shackled instead and imprisoned so that the scalawag may freely partake at the tournament here onwards and freely roam the lands and cities." muttered Kalkas with frustration and disappointment, most weary at Lionel's risky foolish move

Oaken came to his cousin taking a deep breath at the unexpected turn of events.

"I trust you know what you're doing..." muttered Oaken looking at Lionel



"It is not too late to withdraw your request... cousin..." advised Oaken uncertain about Corym's honour and loyalty to a stranger.

"I am certain of this. Here is my sword... lord Oaken. Lord Kalkas... I am ready to take his place, please proceed" assured Lionel extending the blade and presenting it, ready to surrender and hand it over



Without further ado, Lionel's sword was taken from him and handed to lord Elmtree, whilst Oaken disarmed, chained and held Lionel captive.

The chains and ropes that had been removed from Corym, had now been placed upon Lionel, leaving the captain of the elven army to his chosen shameful fate. The new condition as a prisoner generating quite a stir of gossip and raised eyebrows among the attendants and passers-by.

Lord Oaken then turned to Corym Spectabilis with the respect he would have offered Lionel.



"Very well, Corym of the house of Spectabilis if you care to follow me, I will guide you to where the other contestants are awaiting you... I can only wish you the best of luck and may fortune be on your side, for the greater good of our livelihood and forests." commented Oaken thoughtfully wondering what hidden qualities or chances or value this youth could possibly have for the second in command of the armies to place such trust in him.

"Corym... you can take lord Lionel's sword, if you would like to. It is your privilege. During the right of substitution you are permitted to have all of lord Lionel's weaponry and armour as if they were your own, should you wish it" explained lord Elmtree showing the elven sturdy blade to Corym



Lord Lionel made no fuss at being seized and held back, if anything, he was hoping Corym was wise enough to accept his trusted sword and succeed in the labyrinth where the first challenge was to take place.

Soon the other lords would take their places, Oaken at the centre of the maze, Kalkas and Elmtree at the noble council's stand, Corym among his competitors and Lionel into the cage on the prisoner's cart.

Shortly after, the pairings were announced and it seemed all were ready to begin.

With good rest and a proper bath, Gweyr was up actively before dawn. She departed from Haramon before her brothers and human companion could speak to her. It was easier this way, she thought, not wishing to be in an emotional state after leaving them. Valens pleaded with her the night before not to go through with this game, but she was determined to see it through and needed no weak voice around her.

She rode hard in the heart of the forest, ten miles east as directed; on her white thoroughbred; a stallion that knew no hindrance in his conditioned legs. The aureate light armor she wore underneath her ivory cloak of memory made her figure look more fit and upright while she rode. On her side sheathe was an elven crescent-moon blade, for a swift, up close and finesse kill; many orcs had met the cursed other end of her dangerous tool. On her back was a traditional leather casing, filled with different elemental arrows and a wooden longbow was sheathed on her backside.

When she arrived at the maze entry, she stepped down to greet the other contestants and the council above who watched at their leisure. She felt comfortable when she finally got here and the bugs in her stomach had seized once she seen the crowd. Thus it did not stop the bug floating around her face. She shooed it away a few miles back, but it was determined to follow her. 'You are going somewhere...somewhere fun.' The fairy whispered in her ear; her flirtatious tongue licking the hairs in Gweyr's ear. Gweyr told her to stop, but the giggling went on, until the fairy went shy around the others. It floated around her face creating light, when Gweyr looked into the maze of endless blackness. She would find some use for the annoying fae. That was when Nemoto welcomed them and pulled his scroll to announce the teams. She had never met Liam Haleri before, and was glad he was not one who voiced his opinions in judgmental council chambers. Here in the wilds is where Gweyr was at home. She raised her hand when her name was called so Liam can notice her, if he was around.

Corym was really starting to chafe at Kalkas' mere presence, never mind the slanderous words that spilled out of the councilmemeber's mouth. Clearly, if it weren't for the laws and protocols, the lord would see himself equal to the late king in his absence. Still, Corym made a point to keep his retorts to himself for the time being. There was a time and place for everything, and now was not the right time to raise an objection. Most interesting to him at the moment was how the other onlookers at the trial grounds were reacting to the events that were unfolding. If Corym's less than humane imprisonment wasn't enough to raise some questions, the fact that a well respected individual such as Lionel was being detained in the same manner was certainly turning heads.

"If Kalkas is so worried about me starting a rebellion, he'd better re-evalueate his methods, because he's doing all the work of calling into question the council's actions for me." He thought with a wry grin.

When Lionel's possessions were offered to him for the trial, Corym spent a long, contemplative moment looking at the blade. Here was not some patchwork knife or common footsoldier's blade, but a weapon forged to last as long as it's wielder and serve as an instrument of conquest. With such tools in hand, Corym could very well stand a much better chance.

But...

"I refuse." Corym said with resolution. "I mean no disrespect, but it wouldn't sit right with me to win with something I haven't earned, owned, or created myself. Besides, we were told from the beginning that we may only use our own possessions for these trials, it wouldn't fit with the spirit of this competition."

He turned his gaze to each remaining council member present for this turn of events, standing upright in spite of his small-ish stature. "I didn't come back here to repair the honor of the Spectabilis household, as some of you might've assumed. My own actions in the past should never have rightly affected that of the rest of my family's reputations. No, I came here for one thing and one thing only, to fight for the title of kingship on behalf of our people. I might come from a lowly house, but the Spectabilis family has always worked to serve the people of this kingdom, and you'll see that I am not, nor have ever been an exception."

Kalkas paused briefly at Corym's words.

"If such words bear witness to your true intention, may you succeed in securing the crown and restoring these forests to their former glory, bringing peace and stability to our lands and people. The council will stand by you, should you succeed and prove true to such words" assured the general rather surprised at such selfless statement.



"Perhaps... lord Lionel has seen a diamond in the rough... and these challenges shall reveal the true nature and worth that lies within each of you. Go now, do not delay in your given tasks and may the best succeed" waved Kalkas walking away with Elmtree the pair wondering if Corym had enough to reach for the stars all in all

The hooded young girl in the brown cloak had been lurking around the maze's entrance since dawn. It was strange, being back in Haramon and the surrounding areas after a life so different, away from Urdu altogether. Xyla had seen firsthand the death of the outer edges of the forest, and the sight had renewed her resolve to fight for the land of her birth. And then she had found out about the fate of the rest of her family. It was that which had made her heart ache and had solidified her position that her absence could go on no longer.

When both the Council and the competitors had begun to file into the clearing before the maze's entrance, she had surreptitiously slipped into the throng, listening. Even if she had returned, there was no desire to reveal herself. After all, if there was truly someone who would rule well, should the chance not be given? More than anything, she was afraid of any claim that would come against her because of what she was, nevermind who she was.

However, at Nemoto's mention of Liam's name, she looked up. Liam was here?? She looked around at everyone, before she saw him--she averted her eyes quickly. She wasn't sure how to feel. It was comforting to know that there was a friendly face here, and yet, she was also uneasy at the prospect that she would have to compete against him. And based on what she knew of him before, she had an idea about why he was here too.

Ah--she almost missed hearing her name, as well as the name of her partner. Amaranthine had raised her hand, and Xyla moved towards her. She had reservations, that was true. She remembered Amara seeming almost confident in these trials. But although she had never participated in any of these trials herself, Xyla was fairly certain that the trials were designed to test their mettle incredibly. After all, all of Urdu was the prize. In contrast to Amara, Xyla's form was rather small and petite, and she stood at least a good head shorter. A bronze staff was strapped across her back, over her cape. "Amaranthine?" she asked, looking up. Beneath the hood, Amara would only be able to see the black cloth over her nose and mouth, and raven bangs swept to the side over ivory skin and sheer violet eyes. "Come on. We should get to another maze entrance before someone else gets there..."