The Lady and her Champion (AndersProtectionSquad & Giantmutantcrab)

[Giantmutantcrab]

It is in Western Arnonas that our tale begins.

Felicity Yolande was a noblewoman, an aristocrat that hailed from a long and prestigious ancestry in Western Arnonas. Her father was Grand Duke Hyacinth IV of the House of Yolande and ruled over the kingdom of Atragal, a vassal-state to the Empire of Laonce. As one of the eight Prince-Electors of Laonce and Grand Duke of a vassal kingdom, Hyacinth IV wielded considerable political influence. Fiercely independant in the Laonine courts of intrigue, there had always been a lingering rumor that the Grand Duke was working to make Atragal a separate nation once more, as it had been when before he inherited the throne from his father, Hyacinth III. Sadly, he was unable to make his dream a reality in his lifetime. As a final act of defiance, he wrote in his will that his only daughter, Felicity Yolande, was to be his sole inheritor. Felicity’s mother, Lisa, was a commoner and a traveling physician, a female doctor (a rarity in Western Arnonas, where women are not encouraged to such important and well-educated roles in society). Their wedding and Lisa’s subsequent pregnancy were quite the outrageous affairs, as typically an aristocrat only married and made children with other aristocrats (which accounted for certain of the… eccentricities and rumors of incestuous relationships between nobles).

Tragically, Lisa fell victim to the Black Death, a dangerous and highly contagious illness which spread across Western Arnonas some twenty years ago. She died while taking care of the many sick in the Atragal region (which was spared much of the horrors of the rest of Western Arnonas, for Hyacinth IV had imposed several strict medical decrees). So it was with a heavy heart that he raised his single daughter, Felicity, alone. Now without a father or a mother, with a properly-written will stamped with the seal of the Kingdom of Atragal, Felicity Yolande inherited her father’s titles, his lands, his estate, his wealth and his political influence. She became Grand Duchess Felicity I, Princess-Elector of Laonce. A Princess-Elector was a first in Western Arnonas, and caused a great deal of turmoil with the more conservative aristocrats. The Holy See, center of the Tzevaot religion, situated in the holy capital of Arcia, was especially upset.

In Western Arnonas, religion and political power often went hand-in-hand. Bishops, archbishops and cardinals were often as wealthy as nobles… and sometimes wielded as much power over the poorly-educated, traditionally-religious masses. The land-owners of Western Arnonas who refused the influence of the Holy See were often depicted as vicious and cruel miscreants. On the other hand, those rulers who cared for the churches and cathedrals of the Holy see in their lands were shown as kind, generous, giving and good. Most people were religious to some degree and the state religion of Tzevaot covered almost the entirety of Western Arnonas. The Emperor of Laonce was crowned and blessed by the Pope and often consulted His Holiness. In truth, the Holy See was a grey eminence, one of the many forces that attempted to wield power and influence behind the throne of Laonce.

The worship of Tzevaot strongly suggested that women be submissive to their husbands and should above all care for the children and the home. Such a traditional, conservative mentality has received some pushback in recent years, but those women who strive for equality are often dismissed as hysterical or insulted and called prostitutes and whores. So to have a Princess-Elector was something scandalous, almost sacrilegious! This was a fluke created by some maverick aristocrat. Throughout the lands, however, girls and women were quite smitten with Grand Duchess Felicity I and her choice to be her own independent woman, not some nobleman’s trophy wife to be paraded around in ballrooms and official weddings. Even more liberal-minded folk felt that women should indeed be treated in the same way as men, and be seen as equals in the eyes of the law. For the wealthy, old, religiously conservative men that made up the majority of ordained folk in Western Arnonas, Felicity was a problem to be rectified, a woman who needed to be shown her proper place.

Because of her unique position in the Laonine court, Felicity was under tremendous pressure to marry into one of the other numerous aristocratic families of Western Arnonas. Many potential suitors sent letters and even paintings of themselves to her. In truth, for her to be married to a nobleman would mean that they, by right of marriage, would be able to wield her power both as Grand Duchess and Princess-Elector, basically bypassing her entirely. This would reduce her to become like nearly every other woman in the Laonine royal court; a trophy, to be shown off to the other noblemen, expected to smile politely and say nothing unless asked.

There was, however, a faint glimmer of hope. For a woman in her precise position who did not wish to marry into Arnonan aristocracy (another scandalous, nearly-sacrilegious thing to add to the list), there was a royal decree, dating back to the founder of the Empire of Laonce, Laon I:

“...The noblewoman-inheritor may demand that her suitor prove his worth through trial by combat. A non-lethal duel, within which the noblewoman-inheritor may declare one person of her choosing to be her champion, to fight in her stead and in her name. This champion may be bound by blood, bound by coin or bound by oath to the noblewoman-inheritor. The nature and precise details of the duel must be accepted beforehand by both parties, and a pact signed and sealed with the signets of both Houses. Under no circumstances should the noblewoman-inheritor be forced to sign a duel-pact under duress or coercion of any kind…”

Like any laws, the wording was of another time and certain small modifications had been added for clarity, but the rule of law was clear.

Trial by combat.

This was her way out. This was her escape route. If she were to be able to find herself a duelist to fight for her, a champion to defend her and fight off the many men who wished to marry her and steal what was hers, she could keep her independence. How viciously ironic… That a woman wielding such considerable power, a Grand Duchess, ruler of the Kingdom of Atragal, a Princess-Elector that may very well decide the next Emperor of Laonce… Was forced to be defended by a man with a sword in order to keep her birthright. ‘Twas a bitter pill to swallow… but better that, then to accept a lifetime of servility.

However, disaster struck again. The other aristocrats knew of Laonine law and of the possibility of trial by combat. In a rare showcase of solidarity, the majority of noble Houses suddenly hired the services of nearly every independent mercenary that was available. Granted, the kingdom of Atragal had sturdy armed forces and well-stocked barracks, but none of those fighting-men could be considered uniquely skilled enough to become Felicity’s champion. These were footmen and cavalry, archers and engineers. Suited for dealing with highwaymen and large-scale warfare, not individual duels against highly-trained, well-equipped individuals.

Distraught, Felicity called out to an old friend of her father’s… Captain Gilzan.

​

As well as being a nonconformist, Felicity’s father had also been a bit of an explorer in his youth. He and Gilzan were childhood friends and captain Gilzan was the owner of his own ship, the Opportunity, when he was only a teenager. He came from a long line of merchants and sailors, and apparently more than a few of his ancestors had been notorious pirates. But he was a leader of the Merchant Guild and, as such, was not bothered overmuch by the sins of his forefathers. Together, Hyacinth IV and captain Gilzan sailed beyond the mapped parts of Western Arnonas, to the East. Even when he was ruler of the kingdom of Atragal, Hyacinth IV would often delight his daughter with wild stories and memorabilia of his travels beyond the mapped world. He spoke of nomadic tribes living in the desert, of the fabled city of Akbitana and the best blacksmiths in the world. He himself had a dagger of akbitanan steel, that Felicity had inherited.

Her father's dagger had simply called "Leaf", for the leaf-like pattern on the blade. It was now her dagger, her blade.

The expertise of the Akbitanan smiths, combined with superb locally made high-grade steel, produced weapons that have near-perfect balance, unsurpassed hardness and a strength and flexibility that renders them almost indestructible. Such magnificent weapons could only ever be sold in Akbitana.

This was one of the reasons of Hyacinth’s greatness; mercantile exchanges with other peoples, trading wood, pelts, furs and other locally-sourced products (which were rarities in the desert) for gorgeous silks, spices, pigments as well as jewels, such as jades and sapphires. He also spoke of kingdoms in the desert, beyond the vast Dune Sea, of pyramids and pharaohs and royal chariots covered in gold. He spoke of villages deep in the savannah, far to the south, of ebony-skinned people living simple, peaceful lives. Of people wielding spears and bolas, wearing loincloths and hunting and gathering for food. Of entire villages singing and dancing together around grand bonfines, while the elderly spoke stories of their creation myths, of protective amulets called juju, which were worn around the neck.

This was one of the reasons why the Yolande noble House was so wealthy, and the kingdom of Atragal so desired by other Houses and crowned heads of Western Arnonas. These small yet very profitable mercantile relationships with distant places and people allowed the kingdom of Atragal to have access to things that most of Western Arnonas could not even conceive. Hyacinth IV was a bit of a cartographer and had dozens of hand-made maps, lacquered in oil, wrapped in leather and kept in coffers in the estate’s library.

It is with Captain Gilzan that Felicity hatched her plan. Her father’s links with the nomad desert tribes was the strongest, and they were the closest. Past the small, independent kingdom of Vasia (which had been a steadfast ally to Atragal in the past but has grown distant and silent since Hyacinth IV’s death), past the mapped world of Western Arnonas… That was where she would find the nomadic tribes. There, she would ask them to honor the unwritten oaths spoken by the elders and by her father. There, she would ask them for a champion to defend her and her kingdom. So, accompanied by Captain Gilzan, she made her way towards the East.

The Border Territories of the Dune Sea, in Eastern Arnonas.

​

The woman’s presence here was, on all accounts, a minor miracle. She, a noblewoman of House Yolande in Western Arnonas, took it upon herself to travel past the mapped world and head deep into the East, towards the desert and all of its harsh, unknown dangers. For nearly a month she traveled with Captain Gilzan, far from her lands of Atragal. For those of that corner of the world, Western Arnonas was the only place in the world that was civilized. Everything and everyone else was seen with suspicion and disdain. The isolationism kept other West Arnonan nobles from reaching out and exploring the world.

She was banking on this. In fact, it was quite possibly her only hope.

The second of the small miracles was to find one of the nomad tribes. Neither Felicity nor Gilzan were well-versed in the languages spoken by the tribesmen, so they only had their charming personalities and wit to help them through. Thankfully, a small girl from the tribe spoke a bit of broken Arnonan and was able to translate between the suspicious elders and the outsiders. They guided the travelers to...

The fabled city of Akbitana, deep in the desert of the unknown country of Shem.

It is not within the city proper that she met with the nomad tribe her father once dealt with, but within its shadow. Akbitana was blessed to be built within the confines of a gigantic oasis, which allowed the growing of palm trees, date trees and other vegetation. But other, smaller oases dotted the region around the city, which made it an ideal spot for nomads and their herds to rest and drink to their fill. Here, under the hot desert sun, did she meet with the elders… Or she would have, had she not nearly fainted. Felicity’s clothing was ill-suited for the hard trek through the desert; even Gilzan had a turban and was sweating profusely. Before meeting with the tribe, the women of the tribe had set up a large tent, in which four of them aided the poor noblewoman.

Felicity was brought to this tent in order to rest and recuperate from her heatstroke. Her travels had been harsh and had taken their toll on even her ironclad willpower.

The tent smelled of sweet, fragrant incense. There were silk pillows, a large bed in which to rest and a closed-off section with an old chest, filled to the brim with clothes. The desert wind blew gently and, hidden from the sun, Felicity was offered water and fruit to revitalize her. The women there were all beautiful, shapely and with revealing, exotic clothing. They aided her to remove the large dress she had on her, laughing softly at how thick and uncomfortable it seemed to be on her. Then, she was made to try out several different pieces of clothing. Large, silky pantaloons, sarouel pants, skirts, robes, shawls, head scarfs… Until one of the women brought out a purple dress, revealing and attractive, that clung to her form in all the right places.

A pair of long gloves were slipped to her hands, small jewels attached to her form. A small, lovely little veil was presented, to cover her mouth and nose… And she saw herself in the mirror, as if she were a new woman. “Sister.” One of the ladies there said, holding her by the waist and kissing her cheek, while the other three giggled. Indeed, she could pass as a lady of the deserts. The same woman, looking at her with piercing green eyes, smirked lightly. “Dress like this… Make old men blush.” She winked at her, hinting that though they may not have the martial power of the men, the ladies of this tribe knew how to wield their gifts.

And there stood Felicity I of House Yolande, Grand Duchess of the kingdom of Atragal, Princess-Elector of the Empire of Laonce.

 

[AndersProtectionSquad]

Felicity looked out over the desert sands as they travelled, it was the farthest she had ever been and could only hope her parents were proud wherever their souls landed. It was all unfortunate circumstances that brought her so far, her fathers death named her Princess-Elector, and to the other nobility and to the church, this was a horrid crime. Felicity could barely mourn the loss of her dear father before she had to ready her defense against hordes of noble men, trying to send their sons, their nephews to try and steal away everything her family had built. It would have to be over her dead body, because she would not lay down on the marriage bed for some doughy, pampered boy who couldn’t tell his ass from his head.

If it were not for Captain Gilzan, she would still be hunting for a champion to defend her honor. It was the barbaric practice of men that demanded she must hold her title through combat, and of course none of the houses could allow her an even playing field by snapping up every eligible fighter. They would have to work harder to defeat her. None expected her to leave her home, her nation, her continent to find a champion, but if it kept everything her father worked for safe, then she would suffer a thousand suns. Though just the one was proving to be quite formidable.

By the time they reached the city nestled inside of Shem, her mind was growing foggy and she stumbled through what little greetings she knew and nearly fainted at her meeting with the nations elders. How humiliating…she expected to be treated as too weak and sent away but instead, they humbled her with their kindness as they took her to a tent and helped her into clothes more suitable for the climate.
A small part of her enjoyed how the local fashion made her look, imagining how scandalized some of the old men back home would be, maybe she’d keep this for herself to wear at home on hot summer days.
When one of the women smiled at her and told her she’d make men blush, she smiled in turn.
“I intend to do more than fluster. I intend to conquer.”

If it were not for her pale, freckled skin, and long, straight chestnut colored hair, she likely could blend in more, but she would likely not survive living under the harsh sun here, and had a battle to win back home. Felicity was brought before the Shem council to make her plea, having brought documents of her fathers trade deals as well as gifts from her home country, to try and smooth things over.

“I wish I could say I come with full hands with no ill intent, but I have come to humbly beg for your assistance. Grand Duke Hyacinth has passed, and though he left me as his sole heir, the men of my nation would see me upheaved and tossed aside. My father believed in a unified world, of independence and freedom, and they would rip it away to continue their hold on power.” Felicity would sit and listen to the plans her father had for the world, for his people and she wanted nothing more than to help achieve the goals he couldn’t.

“In order to deter these vultures from my lands, I must defend my title and name in combat, but the other houses have stolen that opportunity from me as well by removing any potential warriors from the pool. I’ve come to offer increased trade deals, in return for a champion who can help me. I swear on my fathers name I would see our nations united in prosperity if only you would help me retain everything he’s built.” They had every right to turn her away, and she would never fault them for that, but she had to hope that someone would be willing to aid her.

“Whatever choice you make, House Yolande will always be your ally. My father valued your nation and your people, and I will uphold his desire to see our friendship continue.” Had it been any other nation she’d be bartering with, she would have been cutthroat, but the people here had been kind to her father, to help him rise to the position of power he had and she would never endanger one of the last links he had to this world.
“If you accept, then you have my humble thanks and eternal gratitude.” Felicity bowed low at that, something rather unheard of for one in her position, but she knew when to be tactful and when to be thankful.

 

[Giantmutantcrab]

The situation she was in was complex.

Shem was the country she was currently in, within the shadow of great Akbitana. It was a magnificent stone city in the middle of the desert, something that seemed to have sprung up from the wildest tales her father would have told her during those long evenings near the fireplace.

The people that she spoke to were nomads, from elsewhere beyond the Dune Sea. Yes, it actually was a sea of moving, shifting sand. She had seen, upon the horizon, great catamarans skimming along its surface, with large, multi-colored sails being adjusted to take in the winds. But this tribe was not of Shem, nor did they speak in the name of the Shemite people or their land. These were the Tareg tribe, nomads, whom seemed to wander in a very wide, regular pattern around that sand sea. Once every year they would be present in the area of Akbitana, to trade goods and purchase necessities. They had no real home, instead living in tents and folded pavilions. They were one hundred strong by Felicity’s estimate, but it was difficult to know exactly how many individuals the entire Tareg tribe counted. It was quite possible that a few dozen were off elsewhere, to follow a specific herd of grazing beasts, or some other mission.

Felicity’s father, Hyacinth, noted in his diary that the Tareg were the least warlike tribe that he encountered in the desert. That was not to say that they were helpless; they simply did not attempt to rob him or assault him as soon as they met him. All desert tribes are naturally suspicious; there were, according to Hyacinth, dozens of tribes that wandered around the Dune Sea; the desert surrounding this sea was known as the Border Kingdoms. It was a misnomer; there were no kingdoms here and no kings to rule over them. However, all tribes had their own territory, unmarked by any physical structure or indicator. As thus, it was far too easy for another tribe to wander into “owned” land and begin a blood-feud that could very well stretch onto generations. “A web of forgotten slights and very real bloodshed; most do not even remember why they hate another tribe; simply that they do, and is enough for war.” By keeping to themselves in a very wide circular pattern, the Tareg seemed to avoid much of these conflicts, which allowed their tribe to swell in size and importance. With positive relations towards Akbitana, the Tareg were something of a self-appointed middlemen between the East and the dreaming West. It was this way that Hyacinth earned access to so many exotic rarities that allowed House Yolande to fill its coffers with gold. In return, the Tareg tribe gained access to secrets of the West. Felicity could see certain Tareg nomads carrying longbows and quivers of Laonine origin, which would undoubtedly give them an edge in long-range combat. Many of the horse saddles also came from the West, sturdy and long-lasting. There were probably suits of armor hidden under bundles of silk, to be pulled out and used in case of warfare.

It had been an excellent mercantile union between House Yolande and the Tareg people.

When Felicity exited the pavilion, she was flanked with the ladies that hat helped clothe her and stood before about thirty tribe members. There were old men and women sitting in the front, under large parasols. Apparently, these people cared for their elders. Hyacinth had written in his journal about the horrors of traveling the desert and finding half-dead old folk, starved and parched, whom had been abandoned by their tribe for the crime of having lived too long and “not being of any use to the tribe anymore”. For some of these nomads, strength of arms was the only thing that mattered. War was everything to these tribes; social status, conflict resolution, manliness, reputation… War was their world.

Most of the Tareg who were gathered before Felicity were dressed in full garb, long and loose-fitting dresses with turbans. Several had shawls, veils or scarves around their faces. Everyone had some kind of weapon at their belt, usually a curved sword. Scimitars, they were called. Thick, wide blades with a single cutting edge. The back end was flat, so one could put their hand on it to push forward or deflect. The curve also made it much easier to pull a weapon while on horseback or when crouching.

One of the young women with her, dressed in red, would be the one to translate Felicity’s words. She was a pretty little thing, barely out of her teens, with long curly black hair and green eyes. She had an air that reminded the Grand Duchess of the people from Vasia, Atragal’s southern neighboring kingdom.

​

So Princess-Elector Grand Duchess Felicity I spoke, presenting her plight to all present. The young lady repeated after every sentence. On occasion, there was a moment’s pause before she translated. Often, attitudes and emotions can be lost in translation and although strangers, the girl could perceive the urgency and importance of Felicity’s presence here, so far away from her western ramparts and stone manors and gilded royal halls. Once finished, the Grand Duchess bowed deeply and stepped back, awaiting their reactions.

The oldest of the tribesmen present made a hand gesture to the girl in red to approach.

​

She sat besides him and he took her delicate hand into his gnarled, knotted hand. He was old, to be sure. Who knew how many of those present here were his direct descendants, sons and daughters and grandchildren? The elder asked things to the girl, which she clarified. He would nod often, turn to the other elderly around him and wait for them to formulate their own thoughts. So this was why Hyacinth had liked the Tareg from the start; apparently, they seemed to take important decisions as a community. Together, not forcing the ideas of one singular ruler through the threat of violence. A refreshing contrast to everyday life in western Arnonas.

One of the women with Felicity brought out a beautiful and delicate parasol, which she may have seen years ago at one of the balls or weddings or receptions of Leonine aristocracy, to cover them both from the harsh sun. She could observe how the conversation went; many of the elders confirmed ideas amongst themselves and returned to the Elder, whom listened while rubbing a small charm that was tied around his neck by a simple gold chain. A few of the others who were standing walked in to give their own comment. Some of these were clearly heads of families, or held some form of special status in the Tareg tribe. It was very hard to decipher which were male or female, as many of them were totally covered and only their eyes were apparent. Perhaps this was also a defensive system; would you dare to accost someone disrespectfully, not knowing if it were an unmarried maiden… or the tribe’s war-chief?

Finally, the Elder rose, using his walking staff as an aid. But he did so by himself, without any help. A touch of pride, of course. He put a hand to the young lady dressed in red’s shoulder and whispered in her ear. With soft nods, she repeated the words as best she could. “The Tareg live great sorrow this day, at the learning of the death of a dear friend, Hyacinth of the West. We will mourn his loss and celebrate his life.” There was a long moment of heavy, solemn silence when those words were spoken. Apparently, the link between people can indeed transcend language. The Elder, especially, seemed to have been struck hard by the news and had looked at the young lady besides him incredulously when she spoke those words of the Grand Duke’s passing. Then, the girl in red spoke up again. “Yet today is also a day of great joy. Long had our friend from the West spoke of his daughter, Felicity, whom he described as “The Pearl of Atragal” and spoke of you at great length. Though we were not present to see you grow from a smiling, happy child to an intelligent, strong woman, the tribe have known of you since birth. We greet you, daughter and sister, to the Tareg; welcome home.”

At those words, there was a sudden outburst of mirth and joy. Yipping, shouting, clapping and rhythmic whistling. The woman besides her, holding the parasol, put an arm around Felicity’s bare midriff and kissed her cheek. “Sister.” She said again, though now the word was spoken gently, the power behind it was like a battering ram to the gut. The Grand Duchess had it all wrong; she was not some emissary from a faraway land attempting to revive old trade routes; she was the prodigal daughter who returned home to her estranged, yet caring, family. The Elder, accompanied by the girl in red, walked to her, breaking the distance between them. Taking Felicity’s hand into his old, wrinkled, gnarled hand, he turned and walked with her, back to the crowd of cousins, brothers and sister she never even knew she had.

A carpet was set to the ground and numerous pillows were set upon it. The Elder sat upon a large, flat pillow and crossed his legs beneath him. The Princess-Elector of Atragal was presented with a very wide, firm pillow with arm-rests; it was as close to a chair as they had. It was comfortable enough and the woman who carried the parasol was still with her, sitting behind her shielding her from the midday sun. She was now only a few feet from the Elder and the older folk of the Tareg, who had shifted in their seating in order to make a full circle, including her and the Elder in the circle.

The Tareg decide together.

The girl in red sat besides Felicity, as translator. She smelled faintly of jasmine and was quite pretty, indeed. The Elder then began to speak. He presented a finger, shook his head, and then clenched his fist. A few of the larger individuals who were standing around in full garb nodded their heads in solemn agreement. The young lady in red besides Felicity sucked in a quick breath, shook her head suddenly and moved her open palms in front of her, indicating that this was not the way to go. She was suddenly anxious. “He says… One finger, weak. One fist, strong.” Strength in numbers. “He… does not understand why you ask for only one of us; he wishes to call the tribe to ride to war besides you.” The girl in red went into a back-and-forth with the Elder, as the others around listened intently. There was a lack of subtlety in the Elder that was refreshing; he was a very old man, probably a grandfather many times over. And yet when one of the tribe asked for aid, his first reaction was to summon the Tareg host in its entirety to ride from the Border Kingdoms into western Arnonas and face her foes head-on. He had spent his life facing his problems on camelback or horseback, with steel in his gaze and in his hand.

But this would do not. As romantic and inspiring as the image of proud desert nomads charging through Laonce seemed, it was doomed to fail. Even if the whole tribe were present and they had thrice the numbers present, there was simply not enough of them. They would be, eventually, stonewalled by regiments of professional soldiers in heavy armor and tight pike-and-shield formations. Then, Atragal would be called as a rebellious vassal-kingdom and Felicity, like her hopes and dreams, would be crushed under the Empire’s iron-clad heel. This was not the way. The girl in red was holding her ground and explaining softly and gently to the Elder who, in spite of his age, seemed as tough as old tree roots. Hopefully, he was not as dense…

 

[AndersProtectionSquad]

The Tareg continued to humble her, not just agreeing to help her, but welcoming her as family. No one in her own country was ever so kind. A small part of Felicity wanted to just stay here. No one would try and backstab her or marry her off, but if she stayed, her fathers dream would end and she couldn't allow that either. While they discussed politics, her companion sat with her, kindly translating and keeping the sun at bay with a parasol. What a sweet woman, perhaps Felicity could offer her a position in her home? She'd miss her otherwise…

Felicity listened, surprised when the elder offered her not one man, but an army to defend her! It was tempting, to raze her enemies to the ground and take everything from them like they were trying to her, but if you steal something, you fight forever to keep it. No…everything she did had to be to the letter of the law. Otherwise not a single man would think she had earned anything.

"It is not war I plan to declare. My position as a woman in Atragal is considered illegitimate, but I do not have to give up my throne and power as long as I can defend my titles in combat. I cannot do this myself, I need but one man to do so in my name. A capable warrior who can help me keep my lands long enough to enact a real change within Arnonas."

And she couldn't do that if she was married off to some doughy, pampered noble. The idea of one of those disgusting men laying hands on her was enough to make her want to retch. Honestly, there was nothing a nobleman could offer her that she couldn't find in strong stable men, or soldiers. There were a few back home she remembered fondly, with rough, calloused hands and strong shoulders, and the stamina to make her come to ecstasy many times. A shame she'd have no time for such antics once they returned. Politics was all consuming and exhausting on the good days.

"I am hopeful that a warrior from Shem would be a great asset, having a unique fighting skill and weaponry that no man from Atragal or all of Arnonas would know how to counter. I trust your judgement in the right man for the job. It will be the difference between victory, and losing everything my father has worked so hard to build."

The warriors she had seen since arriving were all men remarkably built, lean and strong and out some of her own countrymen to shame, never mind the unique skills required to wield a scimitar, no one in Arnonas would know how to fight it, she would keep the edge for a long while…hopefully.

 

[Giantmutantcrab]

The girl in red, who has but a few years younger than Felicity, spoke to the Elder and the surrounding council with what seemed like very simple, clear terms. Though the Grand Duchess did not understand the words that were spoken, the young woman was clearly making sense, as the oldest man in the Tareg tribe leaned forward to listen, looking and nodding slowly. It seemed that he was not as dead-set in his ways as it was initially feared. There were a few murmurs among the other older members but the Elder shushed them with a hard glare, pointing at the young girl.

*She* was talking. *They* would listen.

And quickly enough, there was silence. And she finished her explanation and moved to sit back besides Felicity, under the parasol and besides the other woman who had greeted her as a sister and aided to dress her up for the day.

“I explained to the council that you do not live in a steppe, open and bright. You live in a den of vipers who wear the faces of family. Your… “wolves in sheep’s clothing”, yes?” She shined a bright smile, happy to have been able to reference an old Arnonan saying. “A pack of desert dogs is formidable. They work together and almost always succeed in their hunts. Lions and hyenas fear them. We are the pack of wild dogs. We can fight off lions and hyenas… But you live near a cave with a den of vipers.” The girl’s allegorical skills were strong; it was no wonder that the Tareg Elder was caught up in her explanations and listened so intently.

“What you need are not bared fangs or numbers. What you need is a mongoose. One who knows how to fight alone and can fend off poisonous snakes that snap at your heels.” The council was busy discussing and the Elder rose to his feet, stepped aside and pulled a small, strange tool. It seemed like a sling, but the cup was full and had holes in it. He began to spin it besides him, slowly creating a strong, whistling noise that caught the attention of the Tareg host. They all moved, dismounting from their camels and horses, approaching and sat or knelt. There was power in the ceremony and its simplicity; no grand choruses here, or the speaking of titles; each knew who they were and carried their worth with their skills and actions, not ostentatious jewelry and indebted servants.

The Elder spoke strongly to those present and the young woman in red translated. “…Our daughter from the West graced us with her presence and asked for our aid. I offered to call the Tareg to war, but she said no! She is intelligent; she knows that one well-placed strike is better than a hundred near-misses. She asks for the aid of one, who will defend her honor against others. A skilled warrior; one who can adapt, who is as quick of mind as of blade. I ask you, Tareg, who will fight for her?”

And in a show of solidarity, the whole tribe, from children to elder, rose to their feet and drew their blades. Even the two women with her drew long, slender daggers from their delicate belts. These were not stilettos from boudoirs; these were fighting blades. Her father, Hyacinth, was right; the drawing of scimitars was like a glitter of stars. Even the Elder, old and bent as he was, drew his own weapon and stood fast. From the tribe, one individual, with his own weapon pulled out, stepped out of the pack and walked forward, to face the elder with his back turned to Felicity and her accomplices. It was a man, though he did not seem as tall or wide as some others. But his weapon…

Even if Felicity was not a swordsmith, she could tell that this blade was special among all of the others here. Black as night, the midday desert sun did not reflect on the blade.

The man offered his sword’s pummel to the Elder. Sheathing his own, the old man took the blade and stepped back, swinging a few times in the air, as if to ceremoniously test the weapon. While this happened, the lady holding the parasol in Felicity’s little camp leaned over and spoke to her in a… huskier tone. She seemed to identify the person with ease. “Oh Sister… You will like him. He is… fun.” The way she said the word, the upward curve of her lip and the sudden glint in her eyes… It was not hard to imagine what kind of “fun” she had with him, apparently. The girl in red turned to look at Felicity while the ceremony continued. “His name is Karim. He is a great warrior among the Tareg. He knows many languages and -” The woman holding the parasol nudged the girl in red with an elbow, smirking knowingly. The girl in red blushed and looked away. “…yes… He is fun.”

Well then. It seemed that this man, Karim, was a warrior both in the desert and between bedsheets. How scandalous! The Holy See would soil itself in outrage!

It seemed like he was exactly what she needed. At that moment, both Elder and the veiled, fully-clothed man named Karim turned to Felicity. The girl in red moved to speak up but the old man, holding the special weapon in his hand, shook his head no. Apparently, Felicity had to figure out what to do at this point by herself. The Elder offered the blade to her, handle first. He held it by the flat backside, its razor edge up at the sky. The man knelt with both knees down, head bowed. This was… Strangely enough, comparable to a knighting ceremony in Arnonas. Classically, she would need but to grasp the sword, accept his fealty aloud and offer him the blade in return, arming her champion. Gifting him with the weapon he will use to defend her.

The Tareg host was completely silent; only the occasional whining of a horse broke the silence.