Thread: Helidor in Turmoil

Somewhere in the perfect trifecta between the castle, city and farmlands sat the Arena. It belonged to none of the three places, so it in effect belonged to all three of them.

The structure was quite large - large enough to host a small several-thousands of spectators, at least - and had a wide, roughly circular performance area of packed dirt covered by enough sand to soften it. It was quite old and was one of the first major structures built in Helidor and kept well-maintained by order of the king. The last fifty years or so had seen wooden wall partitions built up at the top of the building so that canvas tents could be erected to shade much of the seating areas and protect it from light rain.

The Arena had long been used for mass entertainments, speeches, and religious ceremonies of a certain sort. Last week it had been the site of a historical play about one of the first kings of Helidor. Tonight (and every night when it suited the arena's schedule, his own schedule, and the weather), it served for King Seine's riding practice.

As dusk fell, King Seine mounted his favorite horse (a type called a 'silver dapple bay', though his was mostly brown with a white mane and black stockings and muzzle), ensured that the half dozen or so servants with torches were ready, and road on to the Arena. (If there were other officials deemed necessary, he wouldn't have bothered to wait for them as they would have been able to catch up easily at the pace he was riding.)

He would be quiet, unless spoken to, and quieter than usual on the way to the Arena. His patient Strider (the horse's name, of course) walking with one of the torch-bearers to the center of the Arena while the others made their way around to tall torches placed along the inner ring of the Arena and lit those. Horses didn't see well enough at night to be careless about it.

It was Vinelle's duty tonight to join the king's escort to his riding practice. And so she and a few other of her fellow guardsmen rode along with the small group, staying out of the circle of light that the servant's torches threw, but always within sight of the entourage. Vin herself had nudged her prized mount, Deyishene, off into the grass beside the road in the space between "behind" and "next to" the king himself where she had a good view of him and his surroundings.

Her vision, however, was caught by the rustle of movement ahead of her, and her eyes locked on an unfortunate rabbit that was nosing around in the brush away from the road. Whatever it was doing, it was oblivious to the party's passing, and Vin didn't give it the chance to notice. In one fluid motion, her bow was raised and an arrow drawn and subsequently let loose, and the rabbit fell with hardly a squeak.

"Show off," one of her companions muttered amicably, and Vin grinned back over her shoulder at him as she led Deyishene toward her fallen prey.

"Naturally," she agreed, "But the cook loves me for it." She leaned down over Deyishene's side and swept the rabbit up into her grasp by the end of the arrow that was sticking upright in it. Pulling the arrow free, she dropped the rabbit down into a saddle bag to be delivered to the kitchens upon their return.

They were approaching the arena, and so Vin directed her attention back to the king and his torch-wielding entourage. As they entered the structure, she broke off and began heading towards her usual path of making slow rounds outside the arena looking for snoopers. But her commander called her name to stop her, his eyes darting around at the night suspiciously. "I think tonight I'll have you stay inside," he growled in his low voice. "Something about tonight doesn't feel right, so I'd prefer we have good eyes on His Majesty."

Nodding her understanding, she nudged Deyishene around and into the arena. He snorted his annoyance at changing the routine, and she just patted him on the back of the neck. The commander usually had good instincts, but he was occasionally wrong. She hoped tonight he was just being overly cautious. Why would anyone want to harm the king, anyway? As far as she'd noticed during her time here, he didn't seem to do anything. But it was not for her to judge, and so she settled Deyishene next to one of the walls far out of the king's way and sat back to watch.

Only when the servants had lit the torches so the entire ring was surrounded in light that left only a pale shadow in the center of the ring did King Seine guide Strider through a proper warm-up. By now, he was a good enough rider that no one was able to make a convincing argument that he needed someone to lead him on strings or anything as humiliating as that, so he was able to keep to himself and not be distracted by instructions by a riding instructor.

He did, however, watch the people sent with him. Seine rarely interacted with anyone directly beyond a request for this or that service. The ones he did were eventually reassigned and a few had ended up dead. It was difficult not to suspect that some of the deaths and most of the reassignments weren't to keep him powerless and without true support. He had many people who surrounded him that were loyal to 'the king' and very few who were loyal to Seine, the man. When possible, he liked to know the distinction.

As he rode around the edges of the arena at a moderate pace, Seine's unusually colored eyes picked out the familiar faces in the crowd who made up the entourage deemed necessary to keep him safe outside the castle. This man was called Jimor and was made fun of because his sweetheart packed him food with onions and garlic. This woman seemed frightened of everyone, but performed her duties well. The commander, whose judgment his subordinates seemed to respect. The young woman guard who often hunted on the trips to and from the Arena. He recognized them all by sight, once he'd seen them a few times. He was curious about everyone, but kept that curiosity in his own mind and occasional forays into what public records that were available in the castle.

There seemed to be something different tonight, though. He watched as the commander leaned over to talk quietly to the horse archer woman and as the woman joined the few other guards that stayed within the Arena. Seine didn't suspect anything, but watched the commander and the horse archer more frequently than her normally would, trying to see if he could figure it out. If there was something different about the night, he probably wouldn't be told unless it were unavoidable.

Vin watched the king through his warm up with the eye of an experienced rider. She'd pushed herself to many limits learning unique ways to maneuver with and about a horse. The thing she recognized in the king's routine was that he seemed to have simply developed an easy habit or pattern... there was no pushing.

Many times in Vin's life she'd had the thought, "Really, I should know better," but rarely had it actually stopped her. For instance, just about in the middle of her training days, before she was a fully-fledged archer, she'd decided that she wouldn't have her assignment anymore, and had simply up and left the training grounds on an arguably "stolen" mare. She had wanted to go home and see her family again, but she didn't get far. Chased down in the middle of the night when someone had finally noticed her missing from her bed, Vinelle was dragged back to the grounds in a sullen fury, and was sat down for a stern talking-to. Knowing now some of the punishments others had faced at less severe offenses, she was aware she'd come out of the ordeal extremely lucky.

This was quickly becoming one of those "know better" times, as she chewed thoughtfully on one lip, watching the king watching her and wondering what had drawn his particular curiosity this night. She also was surprised to find she felt a bit sorry for him -- he may be a spoiled king hiding away in his riches and luxury, but he looked terribly lonely out there in the big arena, with no companion to challenge his riding skills.

As his circling brought him back toward her direction, Vin finally couldn't help it. "You're a fine rider, my lord," she called, her voice respectful but without hesitation or fear, "But you don't push yourself. Would you care to learn something new?"

From the door of the arena, the unmistakable voice of her commander sounded, snapping her name loudly. "VINELLE. Outside, now!" She could hear him muttering all the way from the door as he stormed over, apparently prepared to drag her and Deyishene out of the arena by the bridle if he had to.

With a sigh and a perhaps childish roll of the eyes, Vin nudged Deyishene around by herself and urged him in a lazy walk towards the door. "Yes, sir. Apologies, sir," she responded halfheartedly, but obeyed nonetheless.

Vinelle was completely correct. Seine was getting complacent with his skills. He rode better than the average person and his Strider had the patience of an intelligent uncle humoring his nephew's strange whims - which is to say, the good horse would do anything that he deemed reasonable, but certainly wasn't going to get up to anything foolish when he ought to be sleeping like a normal horse.

He was trying not to be obvious about watching Vinelle (or any of the others), but it follows that a horse archer in particular would notice. Especially when it was her duty to protect him. Seine was, however, surprised that she called to him.

The king flushed with embarrassment (something that showed up well on his so pale skin) at being called out on not pushing himself. He had to admit to himself that he wasn't, but he didn't manage to get rein on his own embarrassment until the horse archer had been called away.

Rather belatedly, he called after her in a clear and carrying voice - a voice that would have been wonderful for public speaking, if he'd ever done any of it. "When you return, I would be interested in hearing what 'new' thing you had in mind."

He didn't want the young woman to get into trouble and hoped that his invitation would keep her out of the worst of it with her commander. She hadn't sounded disrespectful.

Seine didn't generally like riding instructors, but he had the idea that she wouldn't discourage him from attempting something after a first set-back under the dismissive comment of, "Well, you probably shouldn't have been learning that anyway, Your Highness. It's dangerous."

The commander seemed caught off-guard by King Seine's reply, freezing in place as he was obviously torn between preventing a potential disaster and not wanting to appear to openly oppose the king's stated wishes. Vin hesitated as well, eying the commander in open amusement. He finally turned his gaze up to her in a heated glare before bowing to the king with his reply, "I will arrange for Archer Vinelle's lessons to be reviewed and approved for your benefit, my lord."

Vin grinned down at him as he turned back to her, the glare returning. To her he said in much quieter, much darker voice, "I believe you have a bit of leisure time approaching. It is my serious recommendation that you take that time immediately, before one of the king's advisers comes after your head."

"Of course, Commander. I'll gather my things at once."

Although she had the urge to turn back to the king with a friendly wave, she refrained due to concern for the commander's health. Instead, she clicked to Deyishene and urged him into an easy trot back toward the barracks. She had at least a week of freedom to spend in town, and she intended to make the best of it. Being a royal guard was certainly an honor, but spending so much time out in the secluded castle grounds could get very, very boring.

King Seine sat upright on his silver dapple bay and watched the exchange, holding himself with the squared shoulders and regally blank expression of the king he was (in name, anyway).

He nodded at the commander's response, gave another brisk nod in Vinelle's direction and turned Strider and himself back to the ring as he urged his horse into more of a canter than the previous trot. Strider gave him a slightly startled snort, but did as directed.

Seine did his best to act the rest of the evening as if he gave no more thought to the incident. If no one else introduced him- or herself, or otherwise brought themselves to his attention, he'd return to the castle at the usual hour.