Skandra Tyullis (roll_the_bones) wrote in adusta, @ 2009-12-15 17:52:00 |
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Entry tags: | ithacles, skandra tyullis, vedette uthral |
the best oath that money can buy (ithacles, vedette)
A courtyard was a broad sort of opening purposed for nothing. It had smooth stone, sometimes engraved, always carefully cut and arranged just so. In this case, a flat square pattern that ran the length and width of the courtyard, made from gray stone - cut in the center with a hollow circle of red stone. Around the edges of said courtyard was a covered walkway, sloping ceilings of still more stone supported by columns. Not just any columns, of course. Square-cut columns that had scenes from Faustben's history engraved upon them. A chariot aflame, its rider being dragged behind as a chimera followed. Skandra did not believe for a moment that anyone from Faustben had ever fought a chimera - hell, he did not even believe that a chimera could truly exist - but there it was, right next to depiction of battle after battle. This was a courtyard that belonged to soldiers, made by soldiers for the express use of soldiers.
Probably why it made him nervous.
Now was the time for practice in the yard, apparently, and the soldiers were doing their best to live up to their name. Chairs had been dragged from the promenade - which was diffferent from a courtyard, he had it on good authority - and were littering the periphery of the practice circle. Sodliers had removed their coats and thrown them over the backs of those chairs, sword-belts and even polearms weighing them down. Some men had somehow and for some reason concluded it was a good idea to dismiss their boots from service for a moment. These were carelessly lying on their sides. Skandra had seen practice yards like this one before. No one had a rank here. Soldiers did not pay attention to patches you were not wearing, and the only thing that mattered were the bundle of sticks fashioned into practice swords. He'd even participated, time or two, but that was another life. Now here he was. Shopping for a killer.
Men cleared out of the way when they saw Ithacles approaching. They might not pay attention to a man's rank when the patches and coat were off - but if the coat was on, a braided cord at one shoulder did matter. And no one was willing to pretend that it didn't. Now they were near the center, Skandra could see men gathered in small groups and talking under the walkway's shelter. Shadow and distance played cruel tricks on the eyes, made them seen both clear and distant in the same instant. Here at the center he would never get close enough to see every face. But telling them why this trio of souls had appeared in the middle of their ... whatever this was ... remained out of the question. They'd discussed this point until Skandra had grown tired of listening and engaging, turning to the examination of trees and wildlife that could be seen from his vantage point on the heights. This must be how Leironuoth experienced the world. Constantly bored, constantly diverting his attention to something else.
The rules as they'd decided them were simple. No mention of an investigation that had as suspects a member of the king's guard - to which all of these men belonged. No mention of Pathacles' supposed involvement. Just a man impersonating a soldier, possibly. These men were all thick as thieves. If one of their number did not belong, they would more than likely know it. Yet it still gave them an excuse, however flimsy, to start inspecting faces that might or might not belong. A face that Skandra recognized most likely did not. And they had to do it all without making any of the king's private guard think that they were suspect in a plot to kill the man to whom they'd sworn their lives. Not a trick that Skandra was looking forward to trying even once in his life. Ithacles might be a prince, but Skandra had nothing to stop them from cracking his skull open except his good looks, charm, wit and those knives he was handy with.
Thankfully they'd already agreed to the distraction.
"Your Highness," one of the men called with a bow to follow it. "To what do we owe this honor, my Prince?"
Skandra immediately tuned out the flowery words descending from their mouths. His eyes were searching the crowd now, or more specifically their faces, in search of that one sour mouth that would bring him home. After a time you grew accustomed to searching a familiar face out of the crowd. Or you did when you were used to searching for the lawman you'd seen two weeks ago at the docks. Or the angry brother of the angry man you'd stabbed to death. Skandra might have had eyes like a hawk - but none of the faces he saw were familiar. And then it grew rather difficult for Skandra to tune out the conversation.
"I answer to my king," the man in the center of the circle proclaimed. "Your father, King Ithunvel, Lord of these mountains. So no, Prince Ithacles. You cannot stay in search of some criminal in our midst. If you wish to stay, then you do your time in the circle. And you set your lordhood aside outside of it."
Steel eyes met steel eyes. Skandra was staring across the room in hopes that someone was going to find their sense and not ask a prince to do this. The distraction had been Vedette, prancing around like a naughty Captain in trousers far too tight for military service. Well, it was what she was currently wearing, so they might as well enjoy it. Now Ithacles was being challenged to a duel. Even if it was only a fake duel, it still was a line that Skandra had not intended anyone of them to cross.
Ridiculous.
Ithacles nodded.
"Not just you, Prince Ithacles. The others as well."
Ithacles nodded again.
Skandra started looking faster. The man in the center of the circle snapped his fingers. A second wooden sword, produced by smaller slats of wood bound tightly together, appeared from outside the circle. Everyone else was clearing the way for the fight. Fake fight. That officer bowed deeply to Ithacles as the prince began to remove his coat, and simply held both of the practice swords at the ready.
This was not a good idea.