by Reiter
“Speaking of children,” TrenGal said after finishing his wine. “... raising them is a labor of love. As is making them. We should not allow our skills to ebb in either regard.”
The Empress laughed out loud before she could cover her mouth, and she smiled up at her husband who was smiling just as brightly at her. Moments like these were too few, but that did not mean she was about to make things easy for her husband.
“Is that how my Emperor asks his wife to bed?”
“I could always command you.”
Pelania’s smile fell from her face and she assumed the role of a slave. “Is that what you wish, my Master?” The way TrenGal’s nostrils flared told Pelania she had the reins of the moment and it was her choice to give them to her husband. The light in his eyes begged her to make good on her implications, and Pelania slowly rose from her seat, unbuttoning the sleeves of her gown. “I shall go and prepare myself for your pleasure. Give me but a moment.”
His eyes followed her every move and his head shook slightly. “May the gods keep me from a time when that woman stands against me,” he whispered. “For I am undone before the first blow!” Taking hold of his napkin, TrenGal wiped his mouth and got up from his seat. A subtle wave of his hand changed the Emperor out of his daily attire into black silken robes. As his hand returned to his side, he summoned a serving tray that held a bottle of Blue Nectar, sliced cheeses and fruits, honey wafers, and two steamed plugs of Nymos Root, a very potent aphrodisiac. They were going to need it for their third or fourth embrace.
All books are judged by their covers until they are read.
Maryrose Wood
(Rims Time: XI-4907.04)
“Are you sure it’s safe?” Kethgeegan asked, poking his head out of the transport ship.
“You are such an idiot!” Champanna declared, grabbing the young man by his hair to pull him back inside. “Get back in here!”
Champanna marched Kethgeegan back to the belly of the transport where everyone else was waiting. Everyone save Valian.
“Is he back there throwing up?” Kethgeegan asked. Champanna slapped his left shoulder at the same time Annodia punched his right.
“Oww! Okay, you two need to work out a system or something! I’m not getting tagged by both–”
“Be silent!” Gilestra commanded in a soft voice as she walked in front of him. The Lady KnighT made her way to the doors of the compartment where Valian could be found. They parted before she could reach them and the woman smiled at Karlia as she emerged from the chamber.
“Lady Gilestra.”
“Karlia. Is he alright?”
“Oh sure! No, he’s just back there talking to the family.”
Everyone breathed a sigh of relief and their bodies relaxed. Karlia looked at them and giggled. “You don’t think he’s nervous, do you?”
“He’d have every right to be,” Gilestra stated confidently.
“No, that’s not a shade of the painting back there,” Karlia stressed. “If anything, he’s anxious.”
“Well, I suppose he has right to that as well.”
“But he does want to speak with you, Annodia,” Karlia relayed.
“Excuse me,” Annodia said as she started from where she was standing. She took two steps, turned around, walked back, and punched Kethgeegan in the arm again.
“OWWW! What was that for?”
“The one you’re going to rip while I’m not here.”
“I think it needs to be said... the women around here–”
“Yes, Counsel?” Quilori asked, stepping to take Annodia’s place.
Kethgeegan looked at Champanna who was folding her arms, smirking, and tilting her head. Pressing his lips together, Kethgeegan thought better of answering the Retainer Mistress’s inquiry.
“Is everyone being civil out there?” Valian asked.
“Well, it’s our group,” Annodia explained as she approached.
The communications board was off and her lord stood on the other side of the room from it. He was not talking to anyone at the Jhormynn Estate. That conversation had already come and gone. Valian’s family was not happy with him, but he had managed to convince the Duke not to come to the tournament. That was enough to insure the rest of the family would also not be attending.
Annodia’s eyes paid no attention to the clothing the man wore; her eyes were trained on the man wearing them. This was a different face for him.
“Of course,” she thought. “When you are in the moment, there is little time for thought. You just react... don’t you, Valian? But now, you’ve got nothing but time to think of what is happening... what you’ve made happen... and doubt has crept all over you.
“Civility,” she said softly as she walked over to the small desk and took hold of the chair. “... that takes on a new definition with us. Kethgeegan’s doing his best to keep everyone distracted from thinking about what’s happening.” She put the chair down in the middle of the floor. “Keeping them laughing so they don’t have time to get scared.
“This family!” she thought, gesturing to the chair. “Not everyone House of Station deserves it. But these Jhormynns set a bar!”
“What’s that?” Valian asked.
“You forgot what a chair is?” she asked. “Sit down.”
“What?”
“Sit. Down.”
Frowning, Valian did as he had been told and Annodia stepped forward. She slowly took hold of both sides of his face and gazed deeply into his eyes. “Your sister sends her love.” Stepping forward, Annodia hugged his head into her chest. It took a moment, but she closed her eyes when she felt him shudder. His arms were quick to wrap around her and hug her tightly.
“Annodia, what have I done?!” he cried.
Softly and slowly, she stroked her hand through his hair. She leaned into his clench and said nothing that could have been interpreted as a signal that he should hold anything in.
“What have I done?!”
“You did it,” she stated. “Kolinkar and Arva handed you the baton, Valian. They asked you to finish their race. And you, being such a loving son, you’ve gone and run the best race you could. You’ve faced every challenge... hurdled every obstacle... and now the finish line is in sight.
“Shed it, Valian,” she said, moving his head so that he would look up at her. “Cut the ballast... shed the extra weight. You can’t go into that room and look into the eyes of your family and feel responsible for what’s going to happen to them.”
“But I am responsible!”
“So only you are capable of making a choice to take up this quest?” she asked sharply. “I am here because I want to be! How dare you try to rob me of that right?! I am as much a soldier as you, Valian Styrke. There isn’t a soul in that room that isn’t fully aware of the fact that tomorrow may be something we have to trust will come because our eyes may not see it.
“But I would rather die at your side – as your squire, your sister, and your friend – than live a life of less dedication.”
Annodia led Valian to stand and soon she was looking up at his face. “Responsible? Yes, you are responsible. You brought me a better place, and you’ll have to stand for that.”
“I think I can manage that,” Valian nodded.
“Plus, I think I’ve fallen in love with Desh.”
“Who?”
“Desh,” she repeated. “You know... his real name is Simio?!”
“The HealeR?!” Valian exclaimed, stepping back from his squire.
“Why not scream it a little louder?!” she snapped. “The people living outside the Inner Rim didn’t hear you clearly!”
“Sorry,” Valian said, putting his hand to his mouth. “It’s just that... he’s so old!”
“He’s a good man!” she defended. “And he’s thoughtful, kind, warm, and unafraid to show how he feels.”
“And he won’t... always be twice your age,” Valian commented before Annodia punched him in the arm. “YIKES! That really does hurt, Annodia. I’ve got a to
urnament ahead of me here ya know!”
“Then perhaps we should get to it,” she smiled.
“After you,” Valian offered.
“No, milord... I insist. Lead us out. But let me–” Annodia attempted to wipe the tears away from Valian’s face was prevented by his hand.
“Anyone who doubts who and what I am can take it up with me on the Field of Honor,” he said, walking around the woman for the door.
Annodia smiled, whispering, “That is my KnighT!”
Against the backdrop of the moon of Bog, a satellite of the Imperial Seat of Erstehauz, the spectacle of the Farefall Tournament unfolded. Bog was a most peculiar moon, initially having taken well to the terraforming attempts made to adjust its atmosphere and then suddenly stopping once the air was mostly breathable. The same could be said for the terrain. Only patches of land formed, like dunes of earth occasionally coming up from the green sludge that was Bog’ oceans. The whole thing had been a powerful teaching experience for the citizens of the Inner Rim. They had been so sure of the moon’s continued development that many had committed to construction on the moon, only to find that their properties were being claimed by the rising waters.
Not to be outdone by something so trivial as nature, the Vohlterrans took to modifying their architecture. Now nearly one-third of the ugly moon was covered with awesome towers stretching high into the sky.
The D’Sympior Stake was one of the more majestic constructs on Bog. It was tower that was seven miles in diameter and forty-two decks tall. Often called the cylindrical city, the Stake was built in honor of one of the most celebrated military commanders in Vohlterran history. In honor of that man, the Stake was dedicated to the pursuit of excellence in military matters. At one time, knighthood had been considered part of the militia, but that was a forgotten era. The games of the KnighTs, however, remained at the Stake. During the tournament, the academy was closed and all the facilities of the construct were dedicated to the event.
Needless to say, tickets to the actual event were incredibly expensive. Entire satellite networks were dedicated to the broadcast of the tournament and the telecast reached as far out as Black Gate of the Prism Baronies. While seats at the Stake sold out within the first two hours after being made available, stadium and event seating tickets for the broadcast venues did not sell out for nearly a month. It took that long to get the response to a very important question from the contestants.
The Farefall Tournament was an Imperial function. Any champion of such an event could claim their right to challenge for the Throne. That was, however, if the majority vote of the contestants requested for that right to be available. The vote fell short for this tournament, but something else had circulated throughout the kingdom and parts of the Middle Rim: the news that a formal challenge had been made and an actual House of Station stood a chance of losing all of its holdings. Once word of that reached the commoners, tickets sold to the point where the administrators held auctions for bids from other venues. Nearly thirty were added... and all of them sold out as well.
It was still very early in the morning when the Emperor TrenGal and Empress Pelania entered the main arena. The grounds shook from the cheering and shouting. Three black-winged golden lions pulled the Emperor’s chariot as he and his wife lifted their hands to their subjects. They made two full circuits before TrenGal handed the reins to his wife. Nodding as she accepted them, MannA lit up in Pelania’s eyes as she adjusted her grip.
“Fly, my friends!” she commanded. “Take us to the skies!”
The bracing holding the lions close receded into their harnesses. Each lion roared and they started to run, unfolding their wings. They ran in unison and jumped, flapping their wings, taking to the air and flying as if they had no payload at all. Pelania handled the lions with masterful ease, though she did make a few of the patrons duck in their seats, given how closely she flew over their heads.
After three more circuits were completed, TrenGal slid off the back of the chariot, and at first he allowed his body to plummet to the arena ground. Halfway down, he rolled over and his cloak seemed to envelope him entirely. The cloak struck the ground before it shot up at the top of a shaft of light that rose toward the top of the deck. It exploded before reaching the ceiling, and the Emperor fell out of the heart of that light, landing on the back of the chariot.
“Nicely done, my love,” Pelania smiled. “Now it’s my turn.”
Turning the chariot toward the box where their seats were, Pelania held up her fist and shouted, “For Primuson!” As the people cheered, the chariot collided with the box. An explosion of light and fire quickly subsided to reveal the Emperor and Empress standing in front of their seats with the emblem of three winged lions pulling the Primuson Star hanging over their heads.
More cheers sounded along with the drums, horns, and noisemakers the patrons had brought along. TrenGal smiled at his subjects before turning to look at an icon of these tournaments: Geraldius ‘Tic-Man’ Kablestrun.
The man was an accomplished EnervationisT, and he delighted in applying his skills to his secondary vocation. He wore a large wig of fiber-optics which allowed him to change the color of it at will. Since it was the opening ceremonies of the tournament, and he would never be mistaken for trying to outshine the Emperor, his hair was a very tame brown at the moment. The man smiled as he bowed in response to the Emperor’s gesture. When his head came up, he generated a thunderclap and looked out over the patrons of the event.
“Citizens!” he exclaimed before shuddering. “Tic. We are at the beginning of a cherished time and place. Tic. Here were are again, gathered in the green gasses and swamps of Bog. Tic. Styling at the Stake and – tic – awaiting the another tournament of Farefall.
“But this occasion is not like the others, is it? Tic. I am the Tic-Man, and I am here to tell you that the last time a challenge was settled – tic – at a tournament is outside my memory. But that is where we are and – tic – that is what is happening. One House, fresh with its first KnighT – tic – untried, untested has laid challenge at the feet of another House... an ancient House – tic – one that was in place before our beloved Emperor took to the throne.
“Yes, you – tic – feel it, do you not?” The cheers of many served as a fitting response, and Geraldius nodded back at them. “Yes. And – tic – you’re not here to listen to me. Let us put eye to our contestants and embrace them in the traditions of this sacred kingdom. KnighTs and Champions... you are – tic – summoned!”
A portal formed in the center of the arena. A red-headed woman in gold armour, riding a sky sled, came flying out to the cheers of the crowd. She was followed by her entourage – some forty people – who came out performing feats of acrobatic skill while setting off a series of pyrotechnics.
“She comes – tic – to us from the Ovo System,” Geraldius announced. “... flying the standard of the Crimson Star. Her father was a KnighT! His mother was a KnighT! Tic. Here she is, a ninth generation KnighT of the Realm, Lady Isli Yavi!”
The Lady KnighT and her retainers engaged with the crowd, receiving cheers and chants, both for and against, before departing the arena floor through the Western doors.
The crowd was silenced when a foot came through the portal, stomping to the arena floor. Sandaled, it was nearly ten meters long. The leg that was joined at the ankle was proportional, but incredibly well-developed. Lowering her head to step through, a giantess entered the arena, screaming her arrival in a powerful piercing cry, causing many patrons to get up from their seats; most started looking for the exits while a select few prepared themselves to engage with the creature.
“Fellow citizens!” Geraldius cried, his voice carrying over their screams. “Be at ease. Tic. This one is collared and therefore bound. She cannot harm you!”
Ignoring the Master of Ceremonies, the female giant stepped forward slowly. Her sandals had large strips of leather that wrapped around the lower leg, coming together at armoured shin guards that came up over the
knee. Her arms were covered in the same fashion, with large arm guards covering the elbow. A thick, black collar held hundreds of thin lengths of chain that fell over her chest and back.
Taking three steps forward, the giantess cried out again, slamming her fists down into the ground. The arena trembled behind the force of her blows and her hands came up holding silver chains. The giantess stood up, initiating a sophisticated kata. She demonstrated a mastery of the chain and movement before slapping the chains together to form one. That single chain fell to the ground and unfolded into a silver carpet where stood the next contestant and his entourage.
“He may not be a KnighT, but he is a Champion of the people. Fellow citizens of the Empire, this is Nurvasior!”
The SpellCasteR wore simple white robes with matching gloves and boots. He smiled up at the crowd before lifting his hands up over his head. When they clapped together, the giantess, the carpet and the entourage disappeared. Slowly parting his hands, Nurvasior’s body came up from the ground and he flew out of the Western doors.
One by one, the parade of contestants continued. The audience never lost their muster, and the presentations never lost their flare for the extravagant. That is, until Geraldius silenced the crowd for his twenty-first announcement.
“Representing the House Jhormynn... Sir Valian Styrke.”
The pillow she had been holding flew through the view port, spoiling the image for a moment. “He did that on purpose,” Shonsatah whined. “All that build up for everyone else and then he announces Valian like that?! He didn’t even tick!”
The Jhormynn Family had not quite settled down into the room Guysorla had prepared for the viewing of the tournament. Tensions were still high, and the Duke had been forced to make Valian’s request his own command in order to keep members of his family from attending. That awkwardness was made even worse when the Duke was forced to refuse an invitation from the Empress herself. She seemed to take his answer in stride, sending her own scrying hoop to the estate with her compliments. Unlike the televised event, the view of the family was tied to a network of fifteen Imperial drones, and they could change the source feed, at will, from one to another.