2013.04.20 - Queen's Gambit

Medieval Times. Wenches, ale, and skillfully choreographed combat. What's not to love? Spectators are divided into separate regions of the stadium, with each color-coded to match a knight from a specific noble house. The huge space is dark, almost ominously so as the final spectators take their seats. Today, only six knights will be facing off for the various tests of skill, bravery, and combat prowess. Yellow, Blue, Red, Purple, Green and Grey. Each section seems to be equally favored by the visitors. In fact, there are few seats remaining at this point, save for in the Grey Knight's camp. Before the show begins, serving wenches and pages scurry to and fro, taking orders, delivering huge steins of beer, and generally adding to the ambiance.

Hanna usually avoids places like this. Sure, they look like fun but are a total waste of money with food that is not really worth it in quality or quantity and crowds that make the pre-show hanging out in the lobby uncomfortable, among other annoyances of various levels. The latter is solved after a bit of thought (Hanna arrives just before seating for the show is done, meaning she gets to avoid the knight- and lady-wannabes) and the food... well, she isn't here for the food.

She's here for him.

Seated in the Grey Knight's section after the use of a benign spell meant to open the hostess to the suggestion that she really wanted to let Hanna sit there despite how full his section is, Hanna looks out over the jousting arena's floor, waiting for him. Unfortunately for her (in her opinion), she has to sit through the entire show before she can approach him. Hopefully she'll be able to catch him before he can duck into the changing rooms after the knights come to hang out at the bar with the audience members.

Once everyone has taken their seats, a spotlight illuminates the Master of Ceremonies in the center of the battle ring. The crowd immediately starts to cheer, and when the noise dies down, he introduces each of the knights in turn. One by one, a list of fictional accomplishments and battles won are read off as the first five knights are introduced and take their places, each riding an impressive horse into the arena. If their pedigrees are to be believed, every one of the knights is the last son of a noble house or the slayer of a mighty dragon, and they all wear their plate and chain mail with pride. The Grey Knight's introduction is somewhat different. The Master of Ceremonies gestures for silence and all but two of the spotlights are dimmed, one for each of them. "Lords and ladies," he says. "Tonight we bring to you a new challenger. He comes from the far side of the Endless Sea. He serves no king. He has no great deeds to his name. In fact, he has no name at all. A man who has won his place here by strength of arms alone... It is my great pleasure to present... Warrior, the Grey Knight!" Where the other knights rode in on very fine steeds, Warrior's mount is a true battle stallion. Not as sleek or lean as the others, but far more muscular, a fact that's accentuated by the extra armor it's wearing. Warrior is similarly attired. His heavy suit of plate armor is angular and dangerous-looking, with protrusions at the shoulders and elbows that add a somewhat sinister edge. His suit is larger than that of his competitors, which shows his height and great size to his advantage. His helmet completely covers his face, except for a single, wide slit in the visor. Through it, very blue eyes can be seen studying the crowd. His shield is covered by leather, an old-fashioned practice used by disgraced knights to conceal their coat of arms. His banner is a simple grey flag, and his tunic is the only one that bears no adornment. Warrior looks serious and deadly, while the more colorful knights appear foppish by comparison, especially during the opening ceremonies that follow the formal introduction of the king and queen. The only time his perfect posture and technique lapse is when he locks eyes with a woman in the crowd. Just for a moment, but it's long enough to put him a half-step behind.

Alright. Hanna has to admit that the fanfare and ceremony is worth the minor agitation of having to deal with the kid sitting next to her. Johnny just can not sit still and his arm keeps bumping into hers despite the fact that they don't have to share an arm rest. As each knight is announced she looks at them and then shakes her head. assured that no, they are not the one she's here for.

By the time the villainous Warrior is announced she's almost worried that she somehow missed him, that she came on the wrong day or he won't be here until later tonight. It's a fear that Hanna's swiftly removed from when the Grey Knight and his steed are presented to the audience as a whole, her breath catching when she feels his gaze filter its way past his visor and onto her.

Once the prancing and parading of the opening ceremony have come to a close, it's time for the moment that (most) of the ladies have been waiting for. Each knight rides out to his section of the stadium and chooses someone that he'll serve as champion for throughout the tournament. Some of the knights elicit 'awwws' from the crowd by choosing grandmothers or girls wearing princess dresses, and some head straight for the most false-chested groupie in sight. The Grey Knight doesn't search the stands, nor does he play the crowd by riding back and forth before them in search of volunteers. He rides directly to the woman he made eye contact with, detaching the banner from his lance en route. When he arrives he has to lean far across his saddle, something which must be difficult while wearing dozens of pounds of plate mail, but he bows low before her and offers her the strip of grey cloth. "My lady," Warrior says solemnly, his voice confident and clear. "Though I worship no king and fight for no other man, I would fight for you. Will you carry my banner?"

There's a moment when her heart flutters and a twinge of childish concern takes hold. What if he doesn't choose her? What if he chooses someone else to be his lady? It's all things to be embarrassed over later but right now, just once, Hanna just wants to live the fantasy.

Several women and more than a small handful of girls whine and mutter when he stops before her, causing her face to flush brightly, warmly.

With a slow nod she takes the banner... why is her hand trembling? And is her breath catching in her chest? God, Hanna. Pull it together! You're here for a reason, not to play princess to the Warrior's knight.

"I accept your banner," she eventually announces amid the ring of laughter, people finding it humorous that she's getting so worked up by this. If only... if only they knew why.

"Then you shall be my Queen," Warrior replies. "From this day on, I swear my sword to you. Should any man or beast lay a hand upon you, let it be because I have spent my last breath at your defense." Though some of the words come from a script, there's an organic element to his statements that can't be imitated. More than that, he seems to mean them. His eyes are wide and he presses his fist over his heart in a knight's salute. Then, abruptly, he spurs his horse and departs. Now the knights ride off, but Warrior stays in the arena and gallops a second lap. He slows down in front of his Queen, his eyes once again locked on hers, making no attempt to hide it from her or from the crowd. All can see his helmet turn as he moves to keep her in sight when he finally quits the field with the others. The food and entertainment follow. Soup, half a chicken, ribs, and no utensils. The staff are liberal with the napkins, at least. The beer, a "house ale" is surprisingly good, a crisp counter to the heavy dinner.

The first round of games are performed by squires and animal trainers, and include displays of horsemanship, falconry, and other similarly medieval pursuits to keep people occupied until the knightly games begin.

The food and drink go without much in the way of notice from Hanna who eventually comes to realize that she has eaten most of it and not even realize it. The entertainment gets more of an attentive eye turned to it but only so she can look for him.

The banner is held tightly in both hands as if her life depended upon it, Hanna's left thumb then used to brush over the material it has been made of. "How much longer," she asks, what was supposed to be an inwardly-directed musing accidentally spoken out loud instead. The boy hisses a 'shushhhh' at her, prompting her to be quiet.

After everyone has had a chance to eat, drink, and be merry, the arena is cleared and all but the spotlights are once again dimmed. The first round of tournament games is one of skill. Each of the knights is given six small rings hung at various heights, and is challenged to skewer all six on his lance in a single pass. The first few attempts aren't particularly impressive. The Green and Red Knights each only take two rings. The Yellow Knight fares slightly better with three, and the Purple and Blue Knights each take an impressive four rings. Then it's the Grey Knight's turn. Warrior's peculiar antics haven't gone unnoticed, especially by patrons who are familiar with the event's script. Rather than the cheering that other knights received, the entire stadium slowly but surely goes quiet. Warrior spurs his steed and not only skewers all six of his rings in one run, he returns for a second pass and successfully takes every ring left behind by his competitors. When he comes to a halt, it's in front of his Queen. One of the rings, a thin loop of steel that's held together with a simple rivet, is detached and offered to her. "A token," he says. "Perhaps, with your help, I may yet mend my wicked ways." The crowd's silence is deafening. Every eye in the arena is on the woman people have already started calling 'The Grey Queen,' awaiting her reply.

The show of lance work is impressive. Even if the knights do miss it's incredible to see, getting everyone cheer including Hanna who has become totally absorbed by the display now that her embarrassment has ebbed. She even manages to keep herself calm, her composure returned by the time her Knight returns and yet another gift is bestowed upon her. The ring is accepted and she goes as far as to put it upon her finger, the metal loop entirely too large to be worn as a ring but it is still done for the symbolism. "You honor me, sir Knight. I do hope I can make you turn from the evils you seem to enjoy so much..."

"The honor is mine, my Queen," Warrior replies. He salutes her and rides off, taking his place for the next event. The crowd seems to approve, as they break into tumultuous applause, especially when the lance ring is worn like a piece of jewelry. The next tournament contest is single combat. Knights face off in pairs for the best of three jousts, with the most exciting matches ending with one combatant knocked to the ground and the other following for a duel of swords. Such is the case when Warrior faces off against the Purple Knight. Warrior unhorses him on the first pass. While the Purple Knight puts up a valiant defense, he can't match Warrior's skill with a blade. When he has defeated his opponent, the Grey Knight lifts his sword triumphantly into the air and then points at his Queen. 'For you,' he's saying. 'For you.' That's not all that's being said. Two of the serving wenches are standing just close enough to be overheard be several people, including the Grey Queen. "I don't know what he's thinking," one of them mutters. "Purple was supposed to win tonight. Bet you King does something nasty, just you wait and see."

Hanna's in mid-applause when she hears the conversation going on behind her but she doesn't let on that she's heard. No, she just keeps cheering on the Warrior, acting for the life of her like she's not listening in the slightest when in fact the opposite is very true.

'Something nasty' has an ominous undertone to it and it causes a pang of worry to hit. Is she encouraging his bad behavior? Will she be getting him fired by playing along when he should be following tonight's script? It is ignored however as she wants to enjoy herself for a bit longer before her 'work' has to begin. Besides. What do those gossiping serving women know?

As if the wench could see the future, something nasty is exactly what follows. A painfully loud trumpet blares, and as soon as it cuts off the Master of Ceremonies can be heard talking over a set of ceiling-mounted speakers. "Lords and Ladies, the King has just received a report from one of his agents. We have a spy in a midst. A deceitful traitor. This spy is none other than... Warrior, the Grey Knight! Guards! Get him!" Apparently, Warrior has strayed from his script one too many times. That, or Medieval Times is adding a 20-on-1 brawl to their list of attractions. All five of the knights, a handful of squires, and what appear to be security guards dressed as medieval militia all rush him simultaneously, presumably to drag him from the stage before he can mess up the show any worse. The Warrior plants his feet, tightens his grip on his sword, and smiles. Where his opponents wear armor like city boys with degrees in history from community colleges, Warrior wears his like he was born in it. His sword is a sinuous extension of his arm. He pivots, whirls, and dodges, striking with the flat of his blade at every opportunity. Even hopelessly outnumbered, he fights so well and for so long that the crowd actually boos when he's finally overwhelmed and hauled from the arena. He gives one last, rallying cry before he's pulled out of sight. "For the Grey Queen!" As one, the crowd echoes him. Their voices are a deafening roar, all screaming, "FOR THE GREY QUEEN!"

There was never any doubt as to whom the Grey Knight is played by but if there were then this would remove it all. The way he fights, how he moves, his declaration of devotion... it /is/ her Warrior. Rising to her feet, gifts held in hand, Hanna rushes to the low wall that separates the rows of seating from the arena floor, chanting under her breath as she does. The chanting comes in the form of a prayer to God that he'll be able to remain on his feet during what is an unfair fight, her eyes held to him the entire time.

By the time her chanting's over he'll feel utterly refreshed, well rested as if the show has just started with no sign of fatigue.

For the first time since the show began, the Grey Knight removes his helmet. Beneath it is Sean Ryan. Not just a Warrior. The Warrior. Her Warrior. He locks eyes with his Queen as new strength courses through his body. Now he's fresh, while his opponents are winded and spent. He throws them off, and while he's lost his sword, there is a spear close at hand. Ryan picks it up, snaps off the point, and swings his improvised staff in broad, sweeping strokes, batting aside any and all comers. When the last of them is defeated, he roars a battle cry and tosses his weapon aside. Ryan looks up at the king on his dais, points to him, and sneers. "Treachery ill-befits a ruler. I am no spy. Your army is defeated. I declare myself the victor of this tournament, and to the victor go the spoils." As he speaks, he's crossed the arena to stand in front of his Queen. "C'mon," he says, holding out a hand to her and breaking character for the first time. A broad, boyish smile makes him look much younger than his thirty-something years. "Let's get outta here." As one would imagine, the king is furious, the crowd goes wild, the Master of Ceremonies has /no/ idea what to do, and there are an awful lot of bumps and bruises for the medics to look at.

Her pride and heart swells as she watches Ryan fight which leaves Hanna feeling like she might explode by the time it reaches it's inevitable conclusion. When he crosses to her she bows her head, a formal greeting that would seem out of place if it wasn't for the nature of the setting. "Very impressive, Warrior."

Her hand slides easily into his, so much so that it could very easily give those gawking the impression that they've met before, maybe even assume that the two are romantically involved somehow, instead of strangers. "We need to talk," she adds eventually before motioning to him to lead the way, her demeanor slightly demure. Not quite submissive but definitely willing to defer to him as far as decision making goes. He gets to choose the setting for their discussion.

"I'll say," Ryan replies. Around the edge of the arena, a narrow tunnel leads to the knights' locker room. This is where he takes her for their private conversation. He retains his grip on her hand during the trip, not quite possessive, not quite protective, not quite intimate, but with some elements of all three. Once the door has closed behind them, he fixes her with a piercing, intent gaze, as if he can find answers in her eyes by sheer strength of will. "My name's Ryan," he finally says. "I feel like we've met before, but I know I'd remember your face if we had."

Hanna's gaze is kept just before her feet as they enter the locker room just in case some of the other performers have beaten them to here and are in the process of getting undressed. Not that she's a prude but she is invading their 'turf' and she wants to be respectful even if Sean doesn't think to be by bringing her here.

When they finally stop she looks up, her eyes holding to his. "We have never met in person but we do know of each other. Not by name, however." Bravely, her hand lifts and comes to rest over his chest, her fingers pressing right over his heart. Or at least they would if it wasn't for his armor. "Why don't you get changed and we can talk in the mean time?"

"Interesting," is Ryan's initial response. "Okay. We can work and talk. It takes two people to get me out of this thing, though." He turns his back toward Hanna and holds his arms up, exposing the buckles along his sides and near his joints that hold the different pieces of the armor together. "So what do you mean?" Ryan asks. "Because I had this weird feeling the moment I laid eyes on you. Not /that/ feeling. Just... there was something about you. About us."

There has never been an occasion for her to have removed armor from a person but there she is, deftly working the various buckles and straps that keeps the armor in place as if it's something she has done a million times before tonight. With the ease of one well-practiced as a squire, all rote memory, she removes it all piece by piece, talking the entire time. "My name is Hanna Ritter. When I say you and I know each other it's in a spiritual sense."

The conversation is punctuated in odd places by the sound of metal meeting floor, the armor dropped a sign of her disdain for the establishment Ryan was employed by. "Do you ever wonder how you know what you know when it comes to combat, Sean? Do you ever think about why you're so talented in forms of warfare long past?"

Several more metallic *thunks* sound, Hanna quiet otherwise so Ryan can have time to speak.

"You know." It's not a question. There are no pointless denials. Somehow, Ryan knows that she knows. On some primitive level, he understands the concepts she's throwing at him, even though they're far outside the scope of his experience. "I'm different. I know things. I can remember things that happened to different people. I went through... a change. Within a week, I had all this knowledge. I could speak a dozen languages. I knew how to fight with weapons from cultures I didn't know existed a few days earlier." There's no way to briefly summarize all the changes Ryan has undergone. Again, somehow he knows he doesn't have to. "Do you know what it means?" he asks.

Warm fingers play over what little flesh of his that's exposed at the moment. A gentle caress that's very familiar for one stranger to give another. "I do know. I know you've been chosen by an entity known as The Warrior to be one of its hosts. Those visions you see? Those are memories from those who it has lived in in the past. Knowledge. The languages, the fighting techniques, everything you didn't know and now do? It's because of The Warrior, Sean."

The next part is a little big more difficult to broach so she busies herself for a little while, fingers once more tugging the straps loose. "The memories you see. Do you ever see a man and a woman together?" Best to start at square one and go from there, now.

"I do," Ryan admits. He averts his eyes and turns a little pink around the cheeks. "I have flashbacks. Sometimes just of... former lives, I guess? But other times there's a woman. It's always a different woman, but it's still the same. Am I making any sense?" He knuckles at his eyes and forges on. "That's you and me, isn't it? Somehow, in some way, that's us? Um. Sometimes when I saw us together, we were really, /really/ together. Know what I mean?"

This talk never is easy and it doesn't get any less complicated no matter how many times The Sage has had to have the talk with The Warrior. "It is, Sean. I am your Sage just as you are my Warrior. We are tied together." Figuratively, that is.

The last of the bulkier pieces of armor that Ryan needed help with is tugged free and set aside, the rest being the pieces he should have no problems removing on his own. Her own cheeks tinge red now when /that/ is brought up and she steps so he can see her out of the corner of his gaze, her nod being the only answer she can give, nerves removing her from the ability to speak now.

Left in only his gauntlets, bracers, and a few pieces of padding and chainmail, it's the work of a moment for Ryan to shrug the rest of the way free from his armor. Beneath it all, he's wearing a form-fitting suit that covers him from just above his knees to just below his elbows, similar to what marathon runners use to wick away moisture. Now that they've both had time to ponder the implications of his statement, Ryan clears his throat. "You... You like hot tea. And you like the beach, even though you hate it when sand gets in everything. And you always worry about me when I go hunting, even when I beg you not to." They're statements, not questions. References not to their individual personalities, but of the symbiotic entities than inhabit each of them. "I... I remember. I remember a lot."

"And you used to look at the sky and watch the birds fly and tell me that you wish you could soar like they could," Hanna whispers, her voice choked. She sees that Ryan's to the point of undressing pretty damn close to fully and she turns her back towards him, hiding her maelstrom of emotions as they play over her face at the same time letting him change without getting gawked at.

A sigh sounds from her while she considers the weight of this and how well Sean seems to be taking it. He's a bit shaken but he's handling it well. Another sign of the Warrior. "We probably should leave before your former employers try to make your life hell on your way out." Not just for the little stunt he pulled during the show but for bringing her in here as well.

"You're right." In a remarkably short time, Ryan is dressed. Jeans, t-shirt, light jacket. Hard to tell at a glance that he's a killing machine that predates civilization. "About everything. You usually are." In a matter of minutes, something he suspected has become fact in his mind. He has lived many, many times before, and he's always done it alongside this woman. Different times, different places, different bodies, but always the same two souls. Wordlessly, Ryan takes Hanna's hand and leads her out of the locker room.