Saj-Graf Tournament

The Saj-graf games are a series of tournaments one might expect from warriors trying to compare there skills with one another.  Though out right killing of one’s opponent is forbidden, mistakes happen and at least one unfortunate person has a brush with death.  That dual is a private fight with the results known by all.  The events culminate with a dual by those that have won the most events.  Usually a fight between three to four of the best, in the past it has had as many as tent men on the field at once.  The city uses this time to celebrate and feast before the start of the planting season.  The weeks following find the city empty as those who were once idle return to the fields. Also this is when merchants deem the roads best for travel and set out with trade to their neighbors.

Sir Corvus looks forward to these times as he once again looks to maintain his reputation.  He has heard a few new challengers are attempting to take the title from him including Lady Kala, his friend Sartow, and Zahar from the Ardent Order.   He would rather dual each of them outside the games, yet laws prevent each of them fighting him without provocation.

Jaspert looks up from his drink to see Sir Corvus stroll by.  He is sitting taking a break from retelling the story of the Incursion of Port Gertrude.  The story makes him a decent number of drinks as people gather around to listen.  Each time he adds his own flourishes to the fights. At times he make it seem as though the pirates had taken more of the city before the Prince’s reinforcements show up to save the Saj-graf forces from humiliation.  He is learning what details people want to here about and draw them in.

Cerridwen sits two tables over finished listening to Jaspert’s fiction.  She likes how Jaspert now refers to her as a spirit of mercy when he retells things.  “Flying past after the bell sounded three, an ancient spirit of Gertrude set out to call others to help.”  She was a whisper on the wind, but not the influence he thought she was.  Cerridwen thought about correcting the young man, but instead tossed a couple coin on his table and the few words, “Thanks for the story.”  Jaspert would realize only later who she was.

Out in the street there was commotion to distract everyone for now, Sir Corvus being slapped by a woman unwelcoming his advances.  “Sir we can settle any grudge you keep with me if you make it far enough in the tournament.”  Martell spoke, not knowing who he was.  She walked on unaware the curses Sir Corvus uttered under his breath.

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Ethics

The wisdom I wish to impart on you
It is ponderous and bothersome
You will wish to take none of it
Yet I will give it to you daily.
Like a medicine with horrid taste,
That makes you wince with each draught.
It will slowly work in time,
but not how you imagine.
All things are with in your reach.
I do not mean all things;
I do not mean without strain.
As an agent of change,
The change is your choice
Repercussions take time,
Good or Evil it does not matter,
And you may never feel it.
What motivates you
Does it matter the urge
To end suffering
To appease a power
Personal gain
If it does help others
Find your meaning.
The path you walk
Need not be straight
Nor be pretty to others.
And from a distance
it is hard to be exact
Like all unknowns
I share what I grasp.
You may do the same
And then know what to ask

Artron

Artron the silversmith is used to requests for cups and serving utensils.  He does not bat an eye at inlaying silver to accentuate pieces of armor and swords.  When the choice is given he would rather do a casting of a spoon over the fine work of jewellery chains or setting gems.  Today’s request has caught him off guard.  He is uncertain as to why the young man before him wants arrowheads made of silver.  They would be far superior made of iron and at a cheaper price.  Artron even was willing to give recommendations, but the young black haired lad insisted they had to be made of silver.  Asked if he planned on hunting some beast outside the city barriers, the patron smiled and said not this time.  Artron tried and poked at his customer’s business but not a clue was given to him. Artron took the coin and gave him a time to come back for his order at.

The next person in the shop was Sir Corvus, “A very odd boy there,” he spoke.

“Indeed, he was in once before, wanted some ruins written in a dagger.  He pays well, but gods know what he does.  You are here for your gauntlet I take it?”  Artron went to a corner of the room and looked through some shelves before coming back with a left glove.  “As requested, the black outlined silver dragon here on the wrist and the gold flames up the back of the hand and down the fingers.”

Corvus picked up the gauntlet and tried it on, tightening various straps to improve the fit.  “Artron you have outdone yourself.  This will look perfect at the games next week.  They are expecting more competitors this time.  I am hoping not to be disappointed.”

“Sir, I think you will not be pleased till you met your fate on the fields of valor.  Not that I mean ill for you, sir.”

“Relax Artron, no offense taken.  I do love a good brawl, but I cannot harm someone that has your skill.  Who else could I trust to do this level of detailing?”

“Pardon,” a young voice spoke up behind Sir Corvus.  “My name is Kaisu, I am here to pick up a cup made for Lyph.  I am sorry to break up your conversation but she has me on a tight schedule for her today.”

Corvus looked over at Kaisu, he wondered of this was the lady that had snubbed Ertle.  He had said it was a young lady in the employ of Lyph.

“I have the remainder of the payment right here,” she said handing over small bag to Artron.

“Oh yes, it is ready, give me a moment young lady.  Sir Corvus, just a moment and I will be back with you, sir.”

Kaisu gave a slight curtsy to Corvus.  “Sorry my lord, forgive me for not recognizing your lordship.”

“Not an issue young lady,” Corvus reached down and kissed her hand. “I have time to spare, yet you seem very busy.  Perhaps you could come by if Lyph does not keep you too busy. I may have easier tasks for you to do.”

Mayor’s Residence

The stone walls of the second floor library are a yellow-tan. Coolness resonates from them counter to the air of the room. No one is certain who enchanted this room to act in such a manner. The windows look out across a small garden and then down on the main street of the city. Mayor Alvin sometimes wonders if he would be happier tending to the plants below than the needs of the city. From what the gardener says they can be just as fickle and dangerous at times.

He looks out and sees his neighbors protected by fences to hide them from the bustle of the city. This house is no more protected from the city than it from him. The lack of security has never been concern to him in his twenty two years as mayor and most likely will not concern him in the future. The city guard includes him and the rest of the noble’s houses in their patrols. There is also the safety that the districts also get locked down in the evening, but he knows a locked door only dissuades those without a key.

The books that line the shelves are related to law and history. The mayor is familiar with all the rules and edicts they contain. The rights his fellow citizens have are quite complex, and Alvin has learned if he saw fit he could kick the nobles out of any house and then bestow their title to any resident of his city he deems worthy. An idea he has toyed with on stressful days. He is also now aware that if the residents of the city choose they could nominate him to be replaced and Lord Gerard would have to consider the request. These thoughts are among the others running through his mind this late afternoon.

Mayor Alvin sits and waits in his hall for Lord Gabriel. The request to meet was sent a week ago and now he is an hour late. Alvin look s out to see if the lord is approaching for the third time in the past ten minutes. The two of them had talked a month ago about the increase in enchantment activity and the presence of beasts within the city’s domain. Neither liked the situation and Lord Gabriel was to have talked with the Ardent Order by now. Today he does not show, raising other concerns for the mayor.

It would be late that evening, when a small group would call on the mayors has sparking rumors among his neighbors. It was a group of six, mostly women, who approached the door and knocked on that moon lit night and were ushered in. There was one that hobbled slowly, hunched under a cape. Two were women walking proud, clad in armor. Another was a young lady, tending to the caped man. The others no one could describe.

Lost

You set watch and he never comes
Grace and blessing is requested and given by others
He never says the words
Out of reach, conception, description
Faith is the main requirement
But why should that be
Belief in what you tell me has been
I have not seen and neither have you
Attribution given to him when he is not present
But blame is only yours
A one sided relation with no room
He is right, but he doesn’t instruct
Follow the simplest rules
And life is not simple
I am free to choose
How do you know my path
When I am lost

Half Frozen Angel

Perfection sealed in time
Still effected by change
The world sees the beauty
It is beyond us from afar
Up close it is incomplete

Half of it unique
Half of it common
Two never the same
Reflections of ourselves
And all anyone can see
Many admire an angel
Few see that it is half frozen

There is no depth
Stuck in place
The world passed by
The focus never changes

One half sees
One half lives through the other
Never will all feel whole
They don’t see anything but themselves