Feast

[aestrix]

It is a special day, in the city of Orzammar. For one man, especially. It is a day of celebration for the second son of King Endrin Aeducan. Despite his physical... issues, he's been made Orzammar's newest commander. Tomorrow, there will be quite a lot of bloodshed. But tonight is for Stalas Aeducan. Not only is there a feast in his honor, but Provings, as well. It's his day, one of honor, but also his formal presentation to the heads of houses.

The merchants have even been allowed into the Diamond Quarter, a rare treat they only see on special occasions. They're probably regretting it, by now, after trying to talk to some of the dwarven nobles and tackle their very particular brand of pride, but it's a chance to win over the highest class, instead of hoping they deign to notice the Merchant Caste.

Regardless, today is certainly a day to remember. Possibly for the wrong reasons.

Comments

[thisvorlunatic]

Stalas Aeducan, for example, will be remembering this day for a long time on the strength of the bruises imparted by his ceremonial armour.

"There you are, Gorim. By the Stone! Are you sure it's not too late to ditch the ceremonial armour and show up in leathers or a nice linen tunic? I like good soft linen. None of this ancient carved-up steel. It's heavy, it's uncomfortable, it makes me sweat like a nug, it's leaving prints in my flesh I'm going to be feeling for days, and it has all the structural integrity of a tin-plated turd!"

[aestrix]

"Ha!" says Gorim. "It's too late, I'm afraid. You must look the part for the king's royal feast. Besides, if you wear linen, they'll think your back perfect for a nice lovely dagger. Not that they don't already."

[thisvorlunatic]

"Ugh. It wouldn't be so bad if it was chainmail, I can survive chainmail. But no, the ancestors all wore plate, apparently. Feh. Did you find me a decent-looking sword? I know you had your heart set on the matching piece, but I'm pretty convinced somebody's kicked it into a lava pit by now, I haven't seen it in years."

[aestrix]

"I did not manage to find the matching piece, I'm sure you're right about the lava pit now. I did scrounge up a rather nice longsword that matches nicely with your shield. Though, perhaps not in how useless it will be to you, the longsword is at least sharp."

[thisvorlunatic]

"I'll take it, thanks. You're a lifesaver," he sighs. "I can't imagine how much worse this would be if I had to hike around scrounging up my own gear."

[aestrix]

"Of course, my lord. It would be awful, especially in the ceremonial tin-turd, you would have bruises for months."

[thisvorlunatic]

"See? You understand me. You're the only one around here who understands me. All right, lay it on me - what's my schedule look like? Do I have time to wander down to the proving grounds and casually drop my ceremonial armour off the side of the bridge?"

[aestrix]

"You have a few hours to yourself before the king requires you to make an appearance. The nobles will spend hours boring him with petty grievances. So until then, the day is yours. I recommend waiting to drop your ceremonial armor off the side of the bridge - if someone notices, you know it would be my duty to retrieve it."

[thisvorlunatic]

"And I can just see Trian crossing his arms and tapping his foot, demanding you grab a snorkel and dive into the lava." Stalas sighs. "Fuck it all. I could go watch my own Proving, I guess." He brightens slightly. "I could go fight in my own Proving - you think they'd mind if I changed into lighter armour for it? I've got some very pretty leather around here somewhere."

[aestrix]

"I suspect some nobles might give you dirty looks, but if you'll be fighting, it should be in armor that isn't trying to kill you."

[thisvorlunatic]

"And hey, the proving fans will love it, right? Proper ceremonial armour or no. All right, let's go. Bring my change of armour - you know the set I'm talking about, right? And if anyone asks, I'm taking the tin turd off for the fighting because I wouldn't want it to get banged up right before the feast. That'll quiet some of them down."

[aestrix]

"I do," agrees Gorim with a smile. "And that will do nicely as justification, I think."

Gorim goes and retrieves the set he's talking about! It is both pretty and practical. A marvel of dwarven smithing, that a smith even thought to have both of them together at all.

[thisvorlunatic]

"All right," Stalas repeats happily. "Yeah, that's the one. Lead the way, my man."

[aestrix]

"Of course."

Armor gathered up and neatly packed away (look, he even brings Stalas's favorite set of daggers!) and off they go, to the Provings.

A head pokes out of Prince Bhelen's room. A woman with red hair, brand of the casteless on her cheek. "My lord?" says she.

[thisvorlunatic]

"Uh... wrong lord, I think," Stalas says apologetically.

[aestrix]

"... Oh, my goodness, I'm - sorry, milord!" Then she flees into Bhelen's room with an 'eep.'

[thisvorlunatic]

"Hey - uh, it's okay," he calls after her.

[aestrix]

The door opens a little, and a green eye peeks out at him.

[thisvorlunatic]

Stalas can guess why she'd be there.

He feels... well, awkward, mainly. But also - responsible? Is that the word?

"Hi," he says to the eye. "I'm Stalas. And I'm not the one with a pickaxe up his ass, that's Trian."

[aestrix]

"I-I would never presume," says she of the noble hunters. "Um - milord. Especially about any pickaxes in - anywhere."

[thisvorlunatic]

Stalas snickers. "Sorry. But look - are you okay in there? Did Bhelen just wander off without saying when he'd be back...?"

[aestrix]

"I'm fine, thank you, your highness." The green eye looks down demurely. "Prince Bhelen was called away by your brother, I don't know when he'll be back..."

[thisvorlunatic]

"Oh, boy," Stalas mutters. "Well, if you're fine then I can quit bothering you I guess. Uh - what's your name?"

[aestrix]

"Rica. Rica Brosca."

[thisvorlunatic]