And the People raised the blades of the fallen soldiers to the heavens
And rejoiced. And Shartan said to them:
"No longer are we hunted! We shall never again
Be prey, waiting to be struck down!
Let us take up the blades of our enemies
And carve a place for ourselves in this world!”
-Canticle of Shartan 9:13
They were each hampered in their own way, but neither took that into consideration when it came to a spar.
Vesryn was just about at full strength again by now, though it was becoming apparent that the physical strain he'd been through the previous had lowered his ceiling of performance somewhat. Not enough to be a major concern. Khari's legs weren't at full strength either, and while both of them knew it, there was no sense giving it any respect. Her opponents in the tourney weren't going to, even before they figured out who she was.
And they were going to, sooner or later. Vesryn was interested to see how much of a disaster would ensue, and who that disaster would be for. The scandal of an elf in their prestigious tourney... it would be something to see. For it to have maximum effect, of course, she would have to win, overcome every obstacle. That meant Vesryn's own training took a step back for the moment, and all of their spars together found Khari pitted against Saraya. A woman who never lost a step. Never slowed.
He'd been wielding a training greatsword for their more recent spars, expecting that to be the most common weapon of her opponents. Vesryn wouldn't be nearly so effective with it without Saraya's help; her training was extensive in all manner of weaponry, and after a few bouts to shake off the rust it was like he'd been swinging the blade his entire life.
Khari's back hit the ground with a solid thud of her armor. Vesryn brought the sword point around to hover above the base of her throat before she could make a move, and the fight was over. One of their longest yet, leaving both of them damp with sweat despite the cold winter temperatures.
Vesryn pulled the sword away and removed his helmet. "That was your best yet. I'd say you're more than ready to wreak some havoc."
Khari heaved a sigh at being felled yet again, but it wasn't more than a moment before she'd turned her practice blade to punch it into the soft sand underneath them and used it to haul herself back to her feet. It was with some discomfort that she shifted her weight all onto her left leg, picking up the right and rotating her ankle until she'd satisfied some internal need. She set it back down on the ground and repeated the motion with the other side, grimacing.
“Sure hope so. It's not like they can reschedule while I wait a few more weeks for the twinges to go away." No doubt she was aware that it was a risk, going into a competition like that still not entirely recovered, but it was one she'd obviously decided was worth it.
Letting go of the practice sword, she dusted off her armor, a sure sign that she was calling it quits for now, too. “You wanna get cleaned up and head to lunch? I was thinking we could grab some and go bug Stel for a while—I've got something to ask you guys."
"I've got no problem with that," he answered. Bothering Stel was his activity of choice after any hard day of training, especially since for some odd reason she seemed to enjoy being bothered by him. As long as he wasn't too distracting. She did always have work to do, after all. "I'll meet you in a few, then."
Vesryn took perhaps a little longer than most to clean up, but Khari knew well enough that he was rather meticulous about his appearance when he could be, probably even more so than Stel was. He didn't take too long, however, and soon met back up with Khari on the way up to the Keep, having replaced his armored outer layers with softer, warmer ones. From the smell, they were hardly the only ones eating, but it wouldn't be difficult to find somewhere private to talk if Khari preferred.
Khari, now dirt-free and wearing a tunic the same color as her eyes with a darker fitted shirt under it, shuffled up the steps beside him. She kept pace despite her much-smaller stature, something that was no doubt automatic by this point. Most of the people she cared to spend time with were substantially taller than she was.
“You reckon this is gonna be the year?" She asked the question as they stepped into the feast hall, taking up a plate. From the way she piled food on without actually sitting down anywhere, she meant for them to take the food with them to Stel's office. “Seems to be the feeling going around—that this is the last one. For the Corypheus thing, at least."
"Ugly bastard's certainly bided his time long enough." Vesryn collected his lunch a little less haphazardly, without quite the same level of appetite Khari had. They started back towards Stel's office together. "I think the feeling is right. Once the winter's well and truly over, there'll be movement. We've stopped him everywhere we can so far. I'd wager a god like him would be getting frustrated to have us mortals gaining the upper hand. The sort of thing that might force a desperation play."
He didn't say it like it was altogether a good thing, because considering the power Corypheus had at his disposal, it wasn't. Desperation was dangerous, and even if it led to his downfall, it remained to be seen how much damage he could on his way there.
She grinned though; the prospect of additional danger had never worried Khari as much as it had thrilled her. She thrived on it. “It'll be nice to finally flush him out of hiding, though. As long as we're ready to pounce when we do."
That thought brought them to Stel's door; Khari knocked a couple times before putting her shoulder to the slightly-ajar panel and pushing it open. “It's us." The announcement was sort of redundant, considering that Stel would be able to see quite well who it was. “Think you can pull yourself away from all the important Inquisitor stuff for a while?"
It was pretty clear that Khari intended to make herself comfortable regardless of the answer—she was already plopping into one of the chairs, saving a sprout from rolling off her plate with a deft tilt of her hand.
Stel obviously didn't mind in the slightest, putting aside whatever paperwork she was doing to join them in the more comfortable seating area of the office. From the empty plate sitting on the tray by the door, she'd already eaten recently. "I'll manage somehow," she said, taking one of the spots on the sofa and curling her legs underneath her. "Training just wrapped up for the day, I take it?"
"It did." Vesryn took a seat in another chair, setting a pillow on his lap to more comfortably position his plate of food. "She got in some good hits. I'm willing to declare her ready for the Tourney."
“Well if Ves says it, I must be." Khari rolled her eyes, but she was smiling at the same time.
Whatever she had to tell them, she wasn't in an obvious hurry to do it, and worked her way through the first half of her plate with light conversation of the kind the three of them so often shared. Only after everything had settled into familiar, comfortable rhythm did she clear her throat softly and glance between them. “So... you guys know all about the Tourney by now, obviously, and how it's only a few weeks out. The thing is, I just got some more information about the events." She stabbed a spear of asparagus and ate it before resuming.
“I won't go into all the details, but the big idea is that in order to win The Tourney, you have to participate in the big three events. That's jousting and the tactical round and the grand melee. And the second one—that requires a team. The competitor and three others, this year." She shrugged, but the casual nature of it was obviously feigned, and she sucked in a deep breath right after, the next words coming out in a rush. “So I was kind of hoping that maybe the two of you would be on my team."
The tactical round, interesting... Vesryn had been wondering what the plan there was going to be. He'd assumed that perhaps Khari's friend at the top of the Orlesian ladder could arrange for some inconspicuous support from his Lions as her team, but it made sense that she'd want to compete with those she worked best with, and trusted the most. He didn't have to ask who the fourth member of the team would be. It did raise a different problem, however.
"I'm going to have to wear an uglier set of plate for that, I'm assuming." It was a rather indirect way of saying that they couldn't compete as themselves. There was no question that they would, but if both Inquisitors and a well-known elven Irregular were her teammates, even the dimmest Orlesian in the crowd was going to figure out who the team leader was. All of the Irregulars had built up some kind of fame by now, and Khari's utter lack of caution in some key moments had led her to more than most.
“It's okay, Ves. I bet you can be plenty flashy even without that shiny bucket on your head."
Stel laughed, perhaps a little too wholeheartedly for the joke alone—maybe it was some inside thing the two of them had between themselves. There were at least a few of those. Her expression sobered relatively quickly, though, and she pulled her knees up to her chest, expelling a breath. "I'm happy to help, of course, but can I ask who knows and doesn't know about this, exactly? Ser Michäel is your sponsor, I know that, but is anyone else aware?"
The question was general, but it was also pretty clear that she was mostly asking about the very obvious possibility. Khari hadn't exactly been spreading the word far and wide even among the Inquisition itself.
“Well, uh... it's you guys, Rom, Leon, Cy, Mick, Marcy, and my clan right now. And probably Rilien, I guess—he knows everything that happens." For all her ordinary obliviousness, Khari didn't miss Stel's implications. “I kinda figured it'd be better to ask for forgiveness than permission on this one, you know? It's a risk, but I'm kind of counting on the fact that Lucien won't let them, uh, execute me for this." She cleared her throat, setting the rest of her food on the coffee table. It would seem her appetite had abandoned her.
“But if something does go wrong, then the disguises give everyone else—Leon called it 'plausible deniability.' Worst case scenario, this was something crazy I did on my own with some hired mercenaries who will disappear into thin air, and I just took advantage of the fact that the Inquisition was visiting Orlais anyway." She shrugged.
Ves found the deniability plausible enough. Plenty of mercenaries never even saw the people they were being paid to fight for, as that relationship was typically only between the leader of the company and the client. The three of them could easily have been instructed to show up ready to fight at a specific location and time, to meet this mystery woman fighting in the Tourney. Do their jobs, get paid. Lots of mercenaries wouldn't blink twice at that, or the chance to fight in the Grand Tourney itself.
"And you're willing to risk the punishments that fall between 'execution' and 'walking free?'" he asked her. "I know Lucien is on our side, and not one to be swayed by pressure, but there are only so many rules he can bend or break or change in a short period." As they'd seen with Julien, the Orlesian system was not particularly kind, fair, or efficient, and Lucien could only show so much favoritism to the Inquisition before he would be risking too much. If things went wrong, Khari could potentially be out of action for their most important and hopefully final confrontations with Corypheus.
Khari pursed her lips, which paled under the pressure, but she also nodded. “This was never gonna be easy to do, but... if I wait, I might be dead by the time the next chance rolls around. I figure the odds of ending up shut away when people are needed to fight are less than the chances of being taken out against Corypheus." It was a brutally-pragmatic assessment of the situation, and she delivered it like one—for once there were no halfhearted handwaves or ebullient optimism.
“And this... I've got to do this. Got to try it, at least. Whatever happens."
Stel nodded slightly, but it was easy to read the worry on her face. Subtle, but obvious enough to anyone who'd spent much time around her. "It sounds like you've thought things through," she said carefully. "It's just... there are a lot of ways this could go wrong, Khari. Are you sure there isn't some other solution? Maybe one that isn't so—" a hum cut off the sentence, like she was looking for the right word.
"I don't know. It sounds silly to say at this point, but I just don't want anything to happen to you. You're—you're my best friend, you know?" Stel folded her hands uneasily on her lap, expression pinched.
Khari smiled, a smaller one than her trademark jagged grin—it didn't even flash teeth. “I know." It inched a little wider, then faded. “And I know I've got a lot to my name now that's not this. People, other goals—they're all important. I wasn't planning to forget it. Just—I can't let myself keep putting it off or waiting for exactly the right low-risk, high-reward opportunity to come along. People like me don't get those." She glanced between them and shrugged. “None of us ever have, I bet. So if I wanna do the big thing that might change the world... I gotta take the big risk that might change my life."
Stel must have been expecting that answer, or one close enough to it, because she answered with a resolute nod. "In that case... I'd be honored to help."
"As would we," Vesryn added, more seriously than he usually spoke to Khari. Considering that Stel already threw in her support, he trusted Khari could discern he was talking about Saraya. He'd been... silent wasn't the right word, but significantly quieter when it came to relaying her thoughts lately, and Saraya had been far more tentative in giving them.
But he could sense them now, clearly enough. "I know she and I haven't always agreed with your goals, but... that was a long time ago, when neither of us knew you half as well. You've fought for this your entire life, and you deserve this chance. We'd be happy to lend a hand."
The grin bloomed over her face again. “Awesome. I've got the best team ever—can't drop the ball and lose now." A pause, and then somewhat more seriously: “Thanks, guys. I mean it."
Vesryn was just about at full strength again by now, though it was becoming apparent that the physical strain he'd been through the previous had lowered his ceiling of performance somewhat. Not enough to be a major concern. Khari's legs weren't at full strength either, and while both of them knew it, there was no sense giving it any respect. Her opponents in the tourney weren't going to, even before they figured out who she was.
And they were going to, sooner or later. Vesryn was interested to see how much of a disaster would ensue, and who that disaster would be for. The scandal of an elf in their prestigious tourney... it would be something to see. For it to have maximum effect, of course, she would have to win, overcome every obstacle. That meant Vesryn's own training took a step back for the moment, and all of their spars together found Khari pitted against Saraya. A woman who never lost a step. Never slowed.
He'd been wielding a training greatsword for their more recent spars, expecting that to be the most common weapon of her opponents. Vesryn wouldn't be nearly so effective with it without Saraya's help; her training was extensive in all manner of weaponry, and after a few bouts to shake off the rust it was like he'd been swinging the blade his entire life.
Khari's back hit the ground with a solid thud of her armor. Vesryn brought the sword point around to hover above the base of her throat before she could make a move, and the fight was over. One of their longest yet, leaving both of them damp with sweat despite the cold winter temperatures.
Vesryn pulled the sword away and removed his helmet. "That was your best yet. I'd say you're more than ready to wreak some havoc."
Khari heaved a sigh at being felled yet again, but it wasn't more than a moment before she'd turned her practice blade to punch it into the soft sand underneath them and used it to haul herself back to her feet. It was with some discomfort that she shifted her weight all onto her left leg, picking up the right and rotating her ankle until she'd satisfied some internal need. She set it back down on the ground and repeated the motion with the other side, grimacing.
“Sure hope so. It's not like they can reschedule while I wait a few more weeks for the twinges to go away." No doubt she was aware that it was a risk, going into a competition like that still not entirely recovered, but it was one she'd obviously decided was worth it.
Letting go of the practice sword, she dusted off her armor, a sure sign that she was calling it quits for now, too. “You wanna get cleaned up and head to lunch? I was thinking we could grab some and go bug Stel for a while—I've got something to ask you guys."
"I've got no problem with that," he answered. Bothering Stel was his activity of choice after any hard day of training, especially since for some odd reason she seemed to enjoy being bothered by him. As long as he wasn't too distracting. She did always have work to do, after all. "I'll meet you in a few, then."
Vesryn took perhaps a little longer than most to clean up, but Khari knew well enough that he was rather meticulous about his appearance when he could be, probably even more so than Stel was. He didn't take too long, however, and soon met back up with Khari on the way up to the Keep, having replaced his armored outer layers with softer, warmer ones. From the smell, they were hardly the only ones eating, but it wouldn't be difficult to find somewhere private to talk if Khari preferred.
Khari, now dirt-free and wearing a tunic the same color as her eyes with a darker fitted shirt under it, shuffled up the steps beside him. She kept pace despite her much-smaller stature, something that was no doubt automatic by this point. Most of the people she cared to spend time with were substantially taller than she was.
“You reckon this is gonna be the year?" She asked the question as they stepped into the feast hall, taking up a plate. From the way she piled food on without actually sitting down anywhere, she meant for them to take the food with them to Stel's office. “Seems to be the feeling going around—that this is the last one. For the Corypheus thing, at least."
"Ugly bastard's certainly bided his time long enough." Vesryn collected his lunch a little less haphazardly, without quite the same level of appetite Khari had. They started back towards Stel's office together. "I think the feeling is right. Once the winter's well and truly over, there'll be movement. We've stopped him everywhere we can so far. I'd wager a god like him would be getting frustrated to have us mortals gaining the upper hand. The sort of thing that might force a desperation play."
He didn't say it like it was altogether a good thing, because considering the power Corypheus had at his disposal, it wasn't. Desperation was dangerous, and even if it led to his downfall, it remained to be seen how much damage he could on his way there.
She grinned though; the prospect of additional danger had never worried Khari as much as it had thrilled her. She thrived on it. “It'll be nice to finally flush him out of hiding, though. As long as we're ready to pounce when we do."
That thought brought them to Stel's door; Khari knocked a couple times before putting her shoulder to the slightly-ajar panel and pushing it open. “It's us." The announcement was sort of redundant, considering that Stel would be able to see quite well who it was. “Think you can pull yourself away from all the important Inquisitor stuff for a while?"
It was pretty clear that Khari intended to make herself comfortable regardless of the answer—she was already plopping into one of the chairs, saving a sprout from rolling off her plate with a deft tilt of her hand.
Stel obviously didn't mind in the slightest, putting aside whatever paperwork she was doing to join them in the more comfortable seating area of the office. From the empty plate sitting on the tray by the door, she'd already eaten recently. "I'll manage somehow," she said, taking one of the spots on the sofa and curling her legs underneath her. "Training just wrapped up for the day, I take it?"
"It did." Vesryn took a seat in another chair, setting a pillow on his lap to more comfortably position his plate of food. "She got in some good hits. I'm willing to declare her ready for the Tourney."
“Well if Ves says it, I must be." Khari rolled her eyes, but she was smiling at the same time.
Whatever she had to tell them, she wasn't in an obvious hurry to do it, and worked her way through the first half of her plate with light conversation of the kind the three of them so often shared. Only after everything had settled into familiar, comfortable rhythm did she clear her throat softly and glance between them. “So... you guys know all about the Tourney by now, obviously, and how it's only a few weeks out. The thing is, I just got some more information about the events." She stabbed a spear of asparagus and ate it before resuming.
“I won't go into all the details, but the big idea is that in order to win The Tourney, you have to participate in the big three events. That's jousting and the tactical round and the grand melee. And the second one—that requires a team. The competitor and three others, this year." She shrugged, but the casual nature of it was obviously feigned, and she sucked in a deep breath right after, the next words coming out in a rush. “So I was kind of hoping that maybe the two of you would be on my team."
The tactical round, interesting... Vesryn had been wondering what the plan there was going to be. He'd assumed that perhaps Khari's friend at the top of the Orlesian ladder could arrange for some inconspicuous support from his Lions as her team, but it made sense that she'd want to compete with those she worked best with, and trusted the most. He didn't have to ask who the fourth member of the team would be. It did raise a different problem, however.
"I'm going to have to wear an uglier set of plate for that, I'm assuming." It was a rather indirect way of saying that they couldn't compete as themselves. There was no question that they would, but if both Inquisitors and a well-known elven Irregular were her teammates, even the dimmest Orlesian in the crowd was going to figure out who the team leader was. All of the Irregulars had built up some kind of fame by now, and Khari's utter lack of caution in some key moments had led her to more than most.
“It's okay, Ves. I bet you can be plenty flashy even without that shiny bucket on your head."
Stel laughed, perhaps a little too wholeheartedly for the joke alone—maybe it was some inside thing the two of them had between themselves. There were at least a few of those. Her expression sobered relatively quickly, though, and she pulled her knees up to her chest, expelling a breath. "I'm happy to help, of course, but can I ask who knows and doesn't know about this, exactly? Ser Michäel is your sponsor, I know that, but is anyone else aware?"
The question was general, but it was also pretty clear that she was mostly asking about the very obvious possibility. Khari hadn't exactly been spreading the word far and wide even among the Inquisition itself.
“Well, uh... it's you guys, Rom, Leon, Cy, Mick, Marcy, and my clan right now. And probably Rilien, I guess—he knows everything that happens." For all her ordinary obliviousness, Khari didn't miss Stel's implications. “I kinda figured it'd be better to ask for forgiveness than permission on this one, you know? It's a risk, but I'm kind of counting on the fact that Lucien won't let them, uh, execute me for this." She cleared her throat, setting the rest of her food on the coffee table. It would seem her appetite had abandoned her.
“But if something does go wrong, then the disguises give everyone else—Leon called it 'plausible deniability.' Worst case scenario, this was something crazy I did on my own with some hired mercenaries who will disappear into thin air, and I just took advantage of the fact that the Inquisition was visiting Orlais anyway." She shrugged.
Ves found the deniability plausible enough. Plenty of mercenaries never even saw the people they were being paid to fight for, as that relationship was typically only between the leader of the company and the client. The three of them could easily have been instructed to show up ready to fight at a specific location and time, to meet this mystery woman fighting in the Tourney. Do their jobs, get paid. Lots of mercenaries wouldn't blink twice at that, or the chance to fight in the Grand Tourney itself.
"And you're willing to risk the punishments that fall between 'execution' and 'walking free?'" he asked her. "I know Lucien is on our side, and not one to be swayed by pressure, but there are only so many rules he can bend or break or change in a short period." As they'd seen with Julien, the Orlesian system was not particularly kind, fair, or efficient, and Lucien could only show so much favoritism to the Inquisition before he would be risking too much. If things went wrong, Khari could potentially be out of action for their most important and hopefully final confrontations with Corypheus.
Khari pursed her lips, which paled under the pressure, but she also nodded. “This was never gonna be easy to do, but... if I wait, I might be dead by the time the next chance rolls around. I figure the odds of ending up shut away when people are needed to fight are less than the chances of being taken out against Corypheus." It was a brutally-pragmatic assessment of the situation, and she delivered it like one—for once there were no halfhearted handwaves or ebullient optimism.
“And this... I've got to do this. Got to try it, at least. Whatever happens."
Stel nodded slightly, but it was easy to read the worry on her face. Subtle, but obvious enough to anyone who'd spent much time around her. "It sounds like you've thought things through," she said carefully. "It's just... there are a lot of ways this could go wrong, Khari. Are you sure there isn't some other solution? Maybe one that isn't so—" a hum cut off the sentence, like she was looking for the right word.
"I don't know. It sounds silly to say at this point, but I just don't want anything to happen to you. You're—you're my best friend, you know?" Stel folded her hands uneasily on her lap, expression pinched.
Khari smiled, a smaller one than her trademark jagged grin—it didn't even flash teeth. “I know." It inched a little wider, then faded. “And I know I've got a lot to my name now that's not this. People, other goals—they're all important. I wasn't planning to forget it. Just—I can't let myself keep putting it off or waiting for exactly the right low-risk, high-reward opportunity to come along. People like me don't get those." She glanced between them and shrugged. “None of us ever have, I bet. So if I wanna do the big thing that might change the world... I gotta take the big risk that might change my life."
Stel must have been expecting that answer, or one close enough to it, because she answered with a resolute nod. "In that case... I'd be honored to help."
"As would we," Vesryn added, more seriously than he usually spoke to Khari. Considering that Stel already threw in her support, he trusted Khari could discern he was talking about Saraya. He'd been... silent wasn't the right word, but significantly quieter when it came to relaying her thoughts lately, and Saraya had been far more tentative in giving them.
But he could sense them now, clearly enough. "I know she and I haven't always agreed with your goals, but... that was a long time ago, when neither of us knew you half as well. You've fought for this your entire life, and you deserve this chance. We'd be happy to lend a hand."
The grin bloomed over her face again. “Awesome. I've got the best team ever—can't drop the ball and lose now." A pause, and then somewhat more seriously: “Thanks, guys. I mean it."