Sounds like fun?

Ivan absently rubbed his thumb against the pommel of the sword hanging at his left hip as he strode down the hall. The events in the throne room had shaken him more then had cared to admit to his younger brother. Despite a well known belief in his own invincibility, he knew that any quest outside of Phel’s borders would be perilous, and then there was his brother to consider. If there was any way at all, he would make sure Davin stayed.

As the knight rounded the corner, he suddenly stopped, moments from crashing into another soldier who had been walking at a much greater speed, unfortunately the other man’s reflexes were not as swift as his own, and the pair crashed into each other and then onto the floor.

“Oww,” remarked Ivan laconically as he brushed himself off and got up. Offering the fallen knight a hand, he blinked twice when he realized who had just crashed into him.

“Revis, where were you off to in such a hurry?”

Revis smiled ruefully before grasping Ivan’s offered arm. Heaving upright, he also dusted himself off before answering. “To get you actually, the men want to see you.”

Ivan sighed, he had been afraid of this. “I was just on me way.”

The journey to the Raven’s barracks was uneventful and silent as Ivan was too lost in his own thoughts of what the new few weeks and months would bring. They crossed the courtyard without incident, however at the entrance Ivan grimaced slightly, put on his helmet and drew the sword at his right hip. Weapon at the ready, he surveyed the terrain. His preparations complete, he sank into a battle stance and waited.

Revis just grinned, happy that his Captain hadn’t lost his wits yet. With a wide sweep, he smashed his mailed fist into the front door.

All around then, men dressed in mail armor with the insignia of the Raven began to appear, from the inside of the barracks, around the courtyard and even dropping down from the roof. It was a rather noisy assembly.

“I hear you guys wanted to see me,” stated Ivan as he eyed his men. “I guess it’s that time of the year again.”

“Indeed.”

From the center of the barracks another Guard stepped out, this one an older grizzled veteran with a silver hilted katana at his right side and a badge on his left shoulder indicating his rank: Vice Captain.

“Good morning to you too Sephis” said Ivan as he nodded to his second in command. “Shall we begin?”

For a brief moment in time there was no movement nor sound save the whisper of the wind. Then suddenly, with no pre arranged signal, the Guards attacked.

From all around they came, charging straight at Ivan, who stood his ground firmly. Like a shining silver wave, they drew their swords and crashed directly into their commander. The ring of steel on steel echoed.

For a moment, the fate of Ivan Swiftblade was unknown, yet after several moments, a small but ever widening circle began to appear, with the Captain in the middle.

His blade moved faster then the eye could see; a true reflection of the name which he had been given on his 18th birthday, 3 years before. It barely had time to catch the light as he skillfully held back ten other Guards who had surrounded him. Spinning and whirling, his blade merely an extension of his body, he parried every stroke and attack. Any that ventured too close were immediately dispatched, but just as quickly two more would appear.

Then Sephis was there, his silver katana drawn and weaving like a serpent. His style of fighting was different then the other guards, trained as they were to fight as a unit, and they backed away, leaving a cleared space for the pair to battle.

“Every year it’s the same thing isn’t it?” remarked Ivan, eyes following the movements of his opponent’s blade. “It ends up just being you and me.”

Sephis grinned. “Maybe this year you shall survive young Captain.”

“Let’s hope so.”

Ivan attacked first, without warning, his blade sweeping low and then high in a series of complicated side cuts. Sephis simply dodged back, then swept in with his katana over his head to protect him against the attacks, but also in preparation for his own offense.

Ivan had seen his Vice Captain use this move many times, and waited for the inevitable thrust at the end. When it came, he side stepped and spun with blinding speed, trying to cut at Sephis’ now unprotected side. His blade met only air.

“Ahh crud.” He managed to say before the blade of the katana caught him squarely in the back. It hurt, a lot.

Seconds later, he could dimly hear Revis reading out the conclusion of the ceremony.

“According to the rules of the Raven, the Guards win! The score is Captain 0, Guards 3.” The Guards burst into cheers, large grins on all their faces.

Sephis walked around to face Ivan, his silver practice katana already back in its scabbard, before offering a hand. “Better luck next year kid, if you survive that is.”

Ivan grasped the hand offered and pulled himself up, feeling perhaps his collision with Revis has been a sign of things to come. “I know I know, you’re going to tell me that I was too fancy right? That this spinning stuff they teach in fencing doesn’t really work?”

Sephis laughed, a deep booming sound, as he clapped an arm around his Captain’s shoulders. “Actually I was going to tell you not to use the same move as you always do. It’s getting to easy to predict.”

The Guards gathered around their officers and headed inside where Ivan’s birthday lunch was laid out. Tankards of beer and cups of cider sat on a table, and each of the 100 elite warriors grasped one as they went by.

Revis handed one to Ivan before calling out to the gathered men.

“Brothers! Today, thanks to Sephis, we have won yet another victory over our Captain!”

The crowd cheered in good natured fun, and Ivan grinned.

“But as you may know,” the standard bearer continued ” Ivan Swiftblade sets off on a quest with his brother, to bring about the salvation of Phel”

The cheering was different, quieter yet more heartfelt.

“I know that we wish to go with him. Yet he has made it very clear, our duty is to protect the King and to protect the city. Therefore, since we can not be with him in body, may we all be with him in Spirit! To Ivan!”

“To IVAN!”

The Guards toasted their captain, but after drinking began to stamp their feet as Ivan raised his eyebrow to look at Revis. A mischievous grin was playing around his childhood friend’s face as he turned to look behind the young Captain. Ivan spun around, ducking even as he did so, just in case.

Sephis grinned, but bowed once Ivan stood back up. “May your spirit never grow weary,” he intoned, “may your arm never grow weak. May you always have friends to guard your back. May you always have the means to defend those closest to you.”

With those words, he pulled a cloth wrapped bundle from behind his back.

“We will always be at your command Ivan, whenever you need us.”
Ivan took the gift, already knowing what it must contain. Pulling the string, he let the cloth fall. Inside lay a sword. The hilt was wide and silver, a spotless matt finish which led to a grip of dark brown leather. The pommel was a deep blue sapphire, one that matched the color of the scabbard.

With one smooth motion Ivan drew the blade, marveling at its balance and feel. The edge gleamed with the light caught from the windows. He thrust it into the air and the Guards erupted into cheers and applause. He stood there for a moment, for a touch of dramatic effect, before slipping the blade back into its sheath. After several moments the noise dropped.

“My gratitude to you all.” Ivan said, nodding as he caught the eyes of many that he knew personally. “This is a mighty gift. I shall wield it with strength and honor.” Ivan paused, looking for perhaps the last time at the gathering of his men.

“But for now, let us not think of departures and farewells, drink, eat! I have but precious hours until the tedium of a formal dinner with King!”

The Guards laughed, and began to disperse.

Ivan sighed but once, before joining in with the party.

New inspiration

Note: I think I can go somewhere with this one.

*********************************************

The court was abuzz with the latest palace gossip, a light hearted counterpart to the dark murmurs which carried the latest news from the front. The war was going badly and everyone knew it. Even so, some confidence, fueled by the brilliant sunlight shining through the massive crystal windows, burned on, for the King was in good spirits, albeit bad health, and his heirs were both popular and gifted. Of course all that pressure didn’t sit so well with the younger of those two boys as he tended to worry a lot.

“I’m telling you Ivan, charging out recklessly into the front lines will not help us at all. I know you think you’re invincible, but I’ve run the calculations, and you have just under a 2% chance of survival, let alone victory.”

Davin Truesight strode along side his older brother, his impassioned speech falling on mute ears, or so it seemed. It was a common misconception that Ivan, dressed in a gleaming mail shirt and dashing purple cloak, was the impulsive and reckless one of the two, although he was older. Davin knew better. Even so, Ivan Swiftblade had been given his name for a very specific reason. He loved to fight for perceived justice.

The older of the two siblings sighed as he continued walking. “I’ve told you before little brother, I know that between us; you maybe the wiser and more calculative of the two, but morale is falling on the front! That’s why we’re losing. You can’t say that my appearance will not aid the effort. If my life will boost the spirits of our army even a fraction, it may mean the difference between victory and defeat.”

Davin shook his head in frustration and let out a vexed groan. Covering his eyes he muttered in a very audible voice. “I can’t believe I survived without parents for 12 years with you as my older brother.”

Well used to the jest, Ivan just shrugged and smiled. “It helped that my brother was the brightest student in school.” He said nonchalantly.

“You’re damn right!” agreed Davin, adjusting his dark blue cloak around his shoulders with a slight huff in an effort to hide his smile.

Soon the pair approached their destination, the throne room, with its surprisingly full galleries of nobles and VIPs who were sitting in their usual factions. To the brothers, it seemed quieter then usual, although there were less empty seats then expected on a beautiful day like this day. It seemed that the noised dropped even more as the herald called out their names with well practiced bellow.

“Ivan Swiftblade, Duke of Rhoar, Heir to the throne, Commander of the Raven Guard and his brother, Davin Truesight, Nephew to the King, Chief Magi of Phel, request audience with his Majesty, King Davidos!

“Hail King Davidos!” declared all the people in the room.

At the end of the room, sitting on his polished wooden throne, King Davidos looked over from his conversation and smiled at the two young men, whose presence always brought light to his eyes. “Come!” He called, beckoning with one hand.

In unison the brothers marched down the hall, resplendent in their respective uniforms. As a young magi, Davin had forgone the traditional pointed hat, more for fashion reasons then any other, and left his hair short, using one of his special potions to keep it nice and spiky. His brother, even ready for battle, walked with his winged helmet under an arm, double edged sword firmly belted at his left side.

As Davidos watched the pair approached, he smiled sadly, seeing his own brother in every step that they took. It had been the greatest of tragedies that had taken his younger brother Kelvin along with his young wife Dana almost 12 years ago. However God’s hand had been at work and the heirless king now had two sons to call his own. Even so, it was a bittersweet bond for them all.

Ivan and Davin knelt into identical bows as the approached the dais

“Your Majesty” they said in unison.

“Rise my sons, and be at ease,” replied the King before continuing, a saddened look spreading on his face. “Or perhaps not at ease rather. I have brought you here to give you dire news, and to speak of a plan that has been decided upon.”

The brothers exchanged glances; they had heard the latest reports from the war. However word of any decision TO be reached had not been noted. Surely they, with their respective positions, would have been the first to know of a potential plan.

The King cleared his throat, and continued.

“You may have heard that we fight a retreating battle against the forces rallied against us. I fear that morale is weak, but also we face a force of greater numbers, and indeed capability. Indeed, as we are now, we had no hope of attacking and a slim chance of standing our ground.”

A gasp rippled through the court, albeit a quiet one, for many had known the gravity of their situation. The brothers exchanged another glance. The King had never spoken so openly at their helplessness.

“We need help my sons, or else all of Phel is doomed.”

Conversation begin to bubble around the court, and soon everyone was talking for the king was considering an alliance.

Davin stepped forward. “Your Majesty, as one of your chief advisors, I recommend strongly against this action. Phel has never had to make an alliance with any other kingdom. For all know that many untrustworthy nations live around us, constantly engaged in violence and war amongst themselves. They turn sides at the drop of a hat; that is why we have always been as we are.”

Ivan also stepped forward, “I agree with my brother, surely the situation is not so dire. There are many strategies that had not tried. Let me lead the Ravens to the war front, and lift the spirits of our army!”

Davin hissed softly and elbowed his brother in the side. Forgetting that his brother’s mail shirt was quite stiff, he succeeded only in bruising his arm and making a light sound. With a stronger hiss, he swore under his breath. Ivan just smiled.

The court had grown quiet again at Ivan’s words and the King could see several young nobles nodding in agreement with the young warrior’s counsel.

The King shook his head with a rueful thought, wondering if he had truly been that proud and confident when he had just reached adulthood. Indeed, he had expected better from both his sons, but nevertheless, with or without their initial consent, there was only one path to take.

“I’m afraid, there will be no discussion nor disagreement with this plan. We decided.”

For the third time in a minute, the brothers exchanged a glance at the King’s use of the royal plural. Davin cocked his head, and Ivan raised an eyebrow. However when his brother’s eyes narrowed, the older of the two sighed in defeat.

“If that is the case your Majesty, do you perhaps have an ally in mind?” He asked, hoping for more information to satisfy his brother’s ever calculative mind.

“Indeed my sons,” replied the King, looking meaningfully at Davin, “however, there is time for that later. For the moment let us make preparations for your departure.”

Both brothers were politically minded enough to know that the King wished to continue the conversation in private, and indeed both recognized a dismissal when they saw it. In perfect harmony, they turned and began to walk towards the door, accompanied by the flood of conversation being stirred in the galleries.

Suddenly, Ivan turned and bowed before the throne.

“My King!” he began, walking quickly back to the foot of the dais, “I have a boon to ask!”

Davidos smiled slightly at the confused look on Davin’s face, even as he nodded his consent to his heir.

“Let me take this quest alone, leaving Davin behind. Should I fall, or even should I not, he is by far the more suited of us to take the throne. During this trying time, you will need his advice more then ever before.”

The King’s laugh echoed throughout the Hall, surprising a good many of the younger and more serious nobles. After all, this was a serious matter, one that could decide the succession of this Kingdom.

“Dear Davin,” chuckled the King as eyes turned to the younger of the brothers, “you should see the look on your face. It reminds me of the time when I too asked that my younger brother be left behind while I went out questing. “

With a great deal of effort and will, Davin drew his features into a semblance of decorum, hiding the dozens of emotions which floated around his face, even as embarrassment was added to the mix.

Facing Ivan, the King continued. “Your request is noted, and well meant at heart. However this will be a most trying ordeal, one that will require every ounce of your courage and even bit of your brother’s guile. Without each other, you will surely fail; as corny as that sounds.” The King chuckled once more. “No Ivan, you were both born to do this together.”

As the two walked down the hallway Davin glanced at his brother “That was awfully condescending and pompous of you.” He whispered spitefully.

Ivan’s response measured. “You know as well as I do that you would make a much better King then I would little brother, so it makes sense to leave you behind. We can’t have you dying now can we?”

“Bite me.”

***

Thalassa 1/?

The floor pitched and rolled under her feet. In the darkness something with damp, matted fur scampered over her feet; she kicked it away with a stifled intake of breath before it could decide if it wanted to carry on with its journey or stay and sink its teeth into her flesh. She wouldn't make much of a meal for it, anyway; it had been two days since her meagre rations of food had run out and she would have to break into one of the boxes of provisions stored in the hold soon. In an hour, perhaps. The ship's crew had mostly gone to bed some time ago.

Footsteps sounded directly above. She drew herself further back into the shadows, in her living space in a corner behind a stack of boxes. In her week out at sea, she had had many false alarms, but she never ceased to be vigilant. She had no illusions about what they would do to her if they discovered her there.

The door to the cargo hold opened, and booted feet tramped down the wooden stairs. Rats skittered away to their own corners. She heard a low, masculine voice muttering absently, and raised her head slightly to inhale the fresh sea air. She longed to feel the breeze full on her face, instead of the cloying, stinking air of the hold.

"Where has that rum got to - ah! Already!"

Peeping between the boxes she caught a glimpse of part of a lion's mane of hair and intent eyes examining a box of empty bottles with dismay. She ducked when the eyes swung around the gloom of the hold in search of more rum, lifting a little lamp in his hand. She knew who he must be, the hoity-toity passenger the rough seamen muttered about, the young royal ambassador they'd been forced to accommodate on their voyage. She wondered if he knew half the things the men said about him, none of which were complimentary, and all of which were rather graphic. When she replaced her eye at the peephole she used, she saw he was now commencing a search of the boxes lashed down in the hold, and a trill of fear ran down her spine at his systematic thoroughness.

"Perhaps," he muttered - and staggered as the ship listed and rolled. The box of potatoes he'd opened tilted, sending tubers rolling across the floor, mostly in her direction. She flung herself low, and the sound of her pounding heart nearly drowned out his exclamation of, "Cap'n'll have my hide!"

Her world was dark. She had closed her lids to hide the whites of her eyes, the gleam of her irises. Potatoes rolled against her feet and knees. She thought again of the methodical way he had searched the boxes earlier and felt dread. The scraping footsteps came closer, closer.

Let it be done with quickly, she thought, and as if in answer light flared in front of her eyelids - a dim flame by most standards, but after her time in the dark, it blinded her.

When she could see again, she saw the young ambassador standing above her, the golden-red mane framing an impassive face.

"You don't look to me," he said matter-of-factly, "very much like a potato."

---

A/N: For Josh: a casually written, lighthearted bit of fantasy (with perhaps a dash of romance), instead of my normal doom and gloom - writing is meant to be fun! ;)

Also perhaps for Claire, as an apology for the last eye-burning sea story she read from me, and for Shan's delayed resurrection, and for not getting around to bringing Anya to life yet. Claire is a demanding wench and I can't keep up! :P