Lassarina (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
lassarina) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
rose_in_winter2012-01-27 01:29 pm
lassarina) wrote in rose_in_winter2012-01-27 01:29 pm
[Magna Carta: Tears of Blood] The Grand Melee
Characters: Azel/Raul
Rating: PG
Contains: Endgame spoilers
Wordcount: 1567
Notes: Written forvector for Yuletide 2006.
Betas: None
Summary: Raul did not expect to find Azel here, but it's a good surprise.
"Would you like to enter the tournament, sir?"
Raul turned in the direction of the youth that had addressed him. It was a boy of perhaps fourteen with a bright, eager expression. He was seated behind a small table covered in sheets of parchment weighed down with small rocks and bits of metal.
"What makes you think I'd like to enter the tournament?" he inquired.
The boy pointed to the sword Raul wore in its sheath upon his back. Raul raised an eyebrow.
"It's the Grand Melee," the boy explained. "Efferia's finest swordsmen are gathering to take part. There's a big prize—two thousand Sid!"
Raul considered it. He had plenty of Sid on him, but he hadn't tested his blade on anything more interesting than a few monsters of late. It might be an interesting exercise. And now that he was paying attention, he did notice the festival air in this part of the city, as people gathered to watch the spectacle. It didn't look to be a large tournament, but one never knew when one might find a truly worthwhile opponent.
"Sure, I'll sign up," he said.
The boy pushed a sheet of parchment across the table to him and held out a quill. "Just sign your name and your homeland here," he said, pointing at a spot about halfway down the sheet. Rows of writing, some more or less neat than others, filled the top half of the sheet.
Raul signed his name. For his homeland, he named Garute. It was close enough, and he doubted anyone would recognize his name anyway.
"You're just in time," the boy informed him. "The tournament starts in half an hour. Contestants can wait over there." He pointed. Raul thanked him and made his way over to the cluster of warriors the boy had indicated.
They were men of all ages and builds, from the slight youth whose sword was almost broader than his arm to the massive, grizzled giant who topped Raul by several inches and made half again of him across the shoulders. Raul picked an unoccupied spot by the fence and leaned against the split logs, eyeing the competition. A few of them were pale and sweaty already, clinging to their swords and shields as though they expected to be run through in the waiting area. Raul ignored them and studied the men who stood at ease, waiting for their names to be called.
"Excuse me, sir." A young man in the livery of Notia stepped up to him. "What Chi do you use when you fight? We have to know so we can change the Lanterns appropriately."
"Celestial and Wind," Raul replied absently. He'd caught sight of a familiar face halfway across the waiting area.
"Very good, sir." The young man walked away. Raul studied the slight figure with long brown hair. The last time he'd seen Azel, the boy had been preparing to follow Calintz into battle against Agreian. It was good to see that at least one of them had survived. Azel seemed much the same as he had a year ago. Raul studied the young mercenary's confident stance and reconsidered his impression. Azel looked far more self-assured than he had when they sought the Light of Salvation.
The young man in livery returned and gestured to two of the warriors who stood waiting. He led them into the large arena nearby, where the cheers of the crowd greeted them. Raul waited patiently through seven rounds of tournament fighting. Azel went in the fourth round. Raul went in the eighth.
It was a simple enough exercise; they had paired him with one of the nervous striplings, who could barely swing his sword for his shaking. Raul held back for a while to give the boy a chance—after all, it wasn't very gallant for one of the Eight Heroes to defeat an inexperienced opponent in less than three strikes—but his opponent couldn't seem to aim his sword anywhere near Raul. He disarmed the boy easily, and won the round.
The second and third rounds of the tournament were not quite so easy. He did have to fight one of the grizzled veterans, and that fight made him work for it, but the Lanterns glowed brightly with Celestial and Wind Chi, and he was faster than his opponent, who hit like an earthquake and stood fast like a mountain, but ultimately his Earth attacks were ineffective against Raul.
The judge at the sidelines signaled him to remain where he was. Azel stepped out of the waiting area, still too far away for Raul to see him clearly, which meant the mercenary probably couldn't see him either. He had chosen not to make his presence known to the younger man as of yet; The crier drew a deep breath and began to speak, his voice sounding a bit strained from announcing matches all afternoon. "For the final match of the Grand Melee, it will be Azel, captain of the Tears of Blood, versus Raul of Garute!"
Raul blinked. Captain? What had happened to Calintz? Azel looked equally surprised as he climbed the stairs to the fighting platform.
"Raul?" he said, his expression one of disbelief.
Raul grinned. "Hey, kid."
Azel bristled and Raul smothered a chuckle. "I'm not a kid anymore, Raul."
"Gentlemen, on the count of three," the judge announced. Raul settled into his favourite stance. He felt the strong upwelling of Celestial and Wind Chi as the men manning the lanterns switched them over to those elements, since both he and Azel favoured them.
"One."
Raul watched Azel angle his sword across his body in a way that looked deceptively awkward, but he had seen firsthand how effective it was as a parrying measure.
"Two."
Raul settled his own weight more on his back leg and braced himself.
"Three!"
Azel remained in his guard position. Raul smiled faintly, recognizing the stance. It was the one taught at the Ara Dojo, one he had designed. So that was the game Azel wanted to play. Raul would be happy to oblige.
His first strike was a deliberate feint, and Azel shifted his sword just enough to block it, but didn't counterattack. Raul grinned. The young mercenary had improved since Raul had last seen him fight. He brought his sword down in a real attack this time, which Azel parried easily enough, and Raul barely slid out of the way of Azel's counterattack.
They circled and clashed, one striking and the other counterattacking, with several near strikes to each of them. The crowd, which had been losing interest as the tournament progressed, became involved again and began to shout encouragement. Raul focused his attention on the young man before him, who held his stance in such a relaxed manner and waited so calmly for him to strike. He wondered briefly if Azel would be so calm on a different sort of battleground, but now was not the time for thoughts like that.
He brought his sword around in a smooth arc he'd learned from watching Calintz practice his True Fuget style, which he hoped would trick Azel into a low parry and leave the mercenary open to a blow to the shoulder to end the match. But he had forgotten that Azel trained with Calintz as well, and he saw through the ploy. Raul found himself standing at the point of Azel's sword, his right arm aching and his sword on the ground beneath Azel's foot, and he had to smile.
"Well fought," he said.
Azel nodded and lowered his sword. Raul bent to retrieve his.
The tournament officials went through the usual rigmarole of awarding prizes. Raul accepted his bag of one thousand Sid graciously. After the ceremony, Azel turned to him. "We should talk," he said, and the tilt of his head reminded Raul very much of Calintz.
"Only if it involves food," he said, laughing. "I haven't eaten all day and I'm starving." As if to echo his point, his stomach emitted a rumbling growl.
"That sounds like a good idea." Azel grinned.
Raul led the way to a small tavern tucked away in a back alley, which he knew served a hell of a beef pie. They ordered, and he sat studying Azel over his wineglass.
"Congratulations on becoming captain," he said after a moment. "It suits you."
A year ago, Azel would have flushed at the compliment. Now he met Raul's eyes steadily. "Thank you."
"And Calintz?" Raul asked.
"He left the Tears of Blood to be with Serina."
"Never figured him for the settling type." Raul sipped his wine.
"He's helping rebuild Fuget, and re-establish the dojos there," Azel explained. "They are dividing their time between Fuget and Epentar."
"And you? How does the mercenary life treat you these days?"
"There's far more to it than I thought," Azel admitted, "but I get by."
They spoke of the past and their present, and the future Azel dreamed of for the Tears of Blood, whereby he would make them the premier mercenary company in Efferia. And later, tucked into one of the rooms above the tavern, with sweat drying on their bodies and Azel cuddled warm and sleepy against him, Raul thought of settling down, perhaps in Garute, instead of wandering Efferia constantly.
He probably wouldn't stay, but it was a nice thought, for now.
Rating: PG
Contains: Endgame spoilers
Wordcount: 1567
Notes: Written for
vector for Yuletide 2006.Betas: None
Summary: Raul did not expect to find Azel here, but it's a good surprise.
"Would you like to enter the tournament, sir?"
Raul turned in the direction of the youth that had addressed him. It was a boy of perhaps fourteen with a bright, eager expression. He was seated behind a small table covered in sheets of parchment weighed down with small rocks and bits of metal.
"What makes you think I'd like to enter the tournament?" he inquired.
The boy pointed to the sword Raul wore in its sheath upon his back. Raul raised an eyebrow.
"It's the Grand Melee," the boy explained. "Efferia's finest swordsmen are gathering to take part. There's a big prize—two thousand Sid!"
Raul considered it. He had plenty of Sid on him, but he hadn't tested his blade on anything more interesting than a few monsters of late. It might be an interesting exercise. And now that he was paying attention, he did notice the festival air in this part of the city, as people gathered to watch the spectacle. It didn't look to be a large tournament, but one never knew when one might find a truly worthwhile opponent.
"Sure, I'll sign up," he said.
The boy pushed a sheet of parchment across the table to him and held out a quill. "Just sign your name and your homeland here," he said, pointing at a spot about halfway down the sheet. Rows of writing, some more or less neat than others, filled the top half of the sheet.
Raul signed his name. For his homeland, he named Garute. It was close enough, and he doubted anyone would recognize his name anyway.
"You're just in time," the boy informed him. "The tournament starts in half an hour. Contestants can wait over there." He pointed. Raul thanked him and made his way over to the cluster of warriors the boy had indicated.
They were men of all ages and builds, from the slight youth whose sword was almost broader than his arm to the massive, grizzled giant who topped Raul by several inches and made half again of him across the shoulders. Raul picked an unoccupied spot by the fence and leaned against the split logs, eyeing the competition. A few of them were pale and sweaty already, clinging to their swords and shields as though they expected to be run through in the waiting area. Raul ignored them and studied the men who stood at ease, waiting for their names to be called.
"Excuse me, sir." A young man in the livery of Notia stepped up to him. "What Chi do you use when you fight? We have to know so we can change the Lanterns appropriately."
"Celestial and Wind," Raul replied absently. He'd caught sight of a familiar face halfway across the waiting area.
"Very good, sir." The young man walked away. Raul studied the slight figure with long brown hair. The last time he'd seen Azel, the boy had been preparing to follow Calintz into battle against Agreian. It was good to see that at least one of them had survived. Azel seemed much the same as he had a year ago. Raul studied the young mercenary's confident stance and reconsidered his impression. Azel looked far more self-assured than he had when they sought the Light of Salvation.
The young man in livery returned and gestured to two of the warriors who stood waiting. He led them into the large arena nearby, where the cheers of the crowd greeted them. Raul waited patiently through seven rounds of tournament fighting. Azel went in the fourth round. Raul went in the eighth.
It was a simple enough exercise; they had paired him with one of the nervous striplings, who could barely swing his sword for his shaking. Raul held back for a while to give the boy a chance—after all, it wasn't very gallant for one of the Eight Heroes to defeat an inexperienced opponent in less than three strikes—but his opponent couldn't seem to aim his sword anywhere near Raul. He disarmed the boy easily, and won the round.
The second and third rounds of the tournament were not quite so easy. He did have to fight one of the grizzled veterans, and that fight made him work for it, but the Lanterns glowed brightly with Celestial and Wind Chi, and he was faster than his opponent, who hit like an earthquake and stood fast like a mountain, but ultimately his Earth attacks were ineffective against Raul.
The judge at the sidelines signaled him to remain where he was. Azel stepped out of the waiting area, still too far away for Raul to see him clearly, which meant the mercenary probably couldn't see him either. He had chosen not to make his presence known to the younger man as of yet; The crier drew a deep breath and began to speak, his voice sounding a bit strained from announcing matches all afternoon. "For the final match of the Grand Melee, it will be Azel, captain of the Tears of Blood, versus Raul of Garute!"
Raul blinked. Captain? What had happened to Calintz? Azel looked equally surprised as he climbed the stairs to the fighting platform.
"Raul?" he said, his expression one of disbelief.
Raul grinned. "Hey, kid."
Azel bristled and Raul smothered a chuckle. "I'm not a kid anymore, Raul."
"Gentlemen, on the count of three," the judge announced. Raul settled into his favourite stance. He felt the strong upwelling of Celestial and Wind Chi as the men manning the lanterns switched them over to those elements, since both he and Azel favoured them.
"One."
Raul watched Azel angle his sword across his body in a way that looked deceptively awkward, but he had seen firsthand how effective it was as a parrying measure.
"Two."
Raul settled his own weight more on his back leg and braced himself.
"Three!"
Azel remained in his guard position. Raul smiled faintly, recognizing the stance. It was the one taught at the Ara Dojo, one he had designed. So that was the game Azel wanted to play. Raul would be happy to oblige.
His first strike was a deliberate feint, and Azel shifted his sword just enough to block it, but didn't counterattack. Raul grinned. The young mercenary had improved since Raul had last seen him fight. He brought his sword down in a real attack this time, which Azel parried easily enough, and Raul barely slid out of the way of Azel's counterattack.
They circled and clashed, one striking and the other counterattacking, with several near strikes to each of them. The crowd, which had been losing interest as the tournament progressed, became involved again and began to shout encouragement. Raul focused his attention on the young man before him, who held his stance in such a relaxed manner and waited so calmly for him to strike. He wondered briefly if Azel would be so calm on a different sort of battleground, but now was not the time for thoughts like that.
He brought his sword around in a smooth arc he'd learned from watching Calintz practice his True Fuget style, which he hoped would trick Azel into a low parry and leave the mercenary open to a blow to the shoulder to end the match. But he had forgotten that Azel trained with Calintz as well, and he saw through the ploy. Raul found himself standing at the point of Azel's sword, his right arm aching and his sword on the ground beneath Azel's foot, and he had to smile.
"Well fought," he said.
Azel nodded and lowered his sword. Raul bent to retrieve his.
The tournament officials went through the usual rigmarole of awarding prizes. Raul accepted his bag of one thousand Sid graciously. After the ceremony, Azel turned to him. "We should talk," he said, and the tilt of his head reminded Raul very much of Calintz.
"Only if it involves food," he said, laughing. "I haven't eaten all day and I'm starving." As if to echo his point, his stomach emitted a rumbling growl.
"That sounds like a good idea." Azel grinned.
Raul led the way to a small tavern tucked away in a back alley, which he knew served a hell of a beef pie. They ordered, and he sat studying Azel over his wineglass.
"Congratulations on becoming captain," he said after a moment. "It suits you."
A year ago, Azel would have flushed at the compliment. Now he met Raul's eyes steadily. "Thank you."
"And Calintz?" Raul asked.
"He left the Tears of Blood to be with Serina."
"Never figured him for the settling type." Raul sipped his wine.
"He's helping rebuild Fuget, and re-establish the dojos there," Azel explained. "They are dividing their time between Fuget and Epentar."
"And you? How does the mercenary life treat you these days?"
"There's far more to it than I thought," Azel admitted, "but I get by."
They spoke of the past and their present, and the future Azel dreamed of for the Tears of Blood, whereby he would make them the premier mercenary company in Efferia. And later, tucked into one of the rooms above the tavern, with sweat drying on their bodies and Azel cuddled warm and sleepy against him, Raul thought of settling down, perhaps in Garute, instead of wandering Efferia constantly.
He probably wouldn't stay, but it was a nice thought, for now.