In Search

[Neru Amhran]

A soft breeze chilled a wine bottle that sat upon the table. Sitting bundled up in a black cabled sweater was William Val’di. With a smile he stared up at the clear blue sky. The air was thin up here, and the snow made everything bright. William was busy enjoying an afternoon of watching birds flying through the air, and enjoying chilled, sweet red wine.



“This place is so beautiful.” He said aloud to himself as he sipped from the frosted glass.
A tall man stepped forward from inside the small building. “Sir, the arrangements have been made. How long do you anticipate your stay? I need to inform her ladyship.”



William sighed. Word of family always put a damper in his mood. “As long as it takes. Last time took four months just to find someone.” With that William leaned forward and pulled back his hair. “If Madam Belladonna wishes to know my itinerary, I’ll send it when I know it.” William finally said as he stood up and turned to the man. “I thank you for your service.”


The man quietly bowed and withdrew back into the building, leaving William standing there with his wine glass in hand. “Tch, family.”

[Archival]

Kredimer Fury

The Queen of Discordia, a faraway kingdom, entered the quaint little tavern nestled in a valley. The altitude was still high, the valley being a localized nadir amongst giants. Somewhere in these Cold Mountains must hid the passageway guarded by a famous swordswoman. It was this guardian that Kredimer Fury was in search of.

To test her mettle and metal.

Wisps of long raven hair splayed on the fleecy-white interior lining of her parka’s hood, dark chocolate its exterior pelt, like the bovine hide it was fashioned from. Her boots matched, but the rest were nondescript wayfarer apparel. Only the parka kept her warm, a coat that concealed a sheathed mystical Songblade. Normally she wore a silver tiara and light attire. But not in a foreign country and in this climate.

Agate grey eyes surveyed, but the establishment was devoid of souls save for a man sitting on a lonely table outside.

Kredimer promptly exited to join the man on the separate-entranced patio. The cool air bit at her gentle cheeks and refroze the mist moistening her marvelous moustache, a fine frame for the picturesque of her mouth.

"I am forever searching high and low
But why does everybody tell me no
Neptune of the seas have you an answer for me, please.” ♫

Her voice was heavenly. Lyrical. Musical. Allegorical.

“Please, will you direct me in the right way?” ♪

Spoiler:

[Neru Amhran]

William glanced towards the woman before resuming his seat, sipping at his wine. The cold air was stimulating, and his cheeks were red by this time.
“Greetings, singing stranger.” He mused as he looked up with a pair of deep green eyes. He wasn’t from around here. However, as eyes scanned over the woman, a detail was out of place, a moustache. William’s lips pursed slightly in contemplation. This was a woman, right? He looked her over idly to make sure.



“Would you like a seat?” he asked as he stood up and offered his own chair, warmed previously by his own presence. He bowed his head slightly. At his side, as always was his rapier. It was elegant despite being mundane in origin. The swept hilt was silvered, and the grip a black leather that was embroidered. The scabbard matched the grip, and frog.



Hanging off the back of the char was a long, insulated coat that had a small sigil sewn into the upper left shoulder.

[Archival]

The Queen of Fury deemed the stranger a gentleman and thought it civil to accept the proffered seat. Normally one to decline taking a chair that has been warmed—yes, warmed, as in heated by another person’s posterior—Queen Kredimer thought her thick parka would serve to insulate her regal rump from the common man's warm hospitality.

She sat on the chair with the coat of arms. A pantalooned leg crossed over the other. A second chalice she sought but found none, hoping to sip some of that wyne to warm the soul, but all the while, periphery catching the fancy hilt of silver; she concluded 'a noble swordsman', opting naught for any common blade, but a weapon of intricate design and indicative of gentlemanly standing. At the least, if her quest for the legendary swordswoman delay further, she could spar for a round or two with this man. The manner of his ruddy cheeks, as if unaccustomed to the cold, suggested his outsider status. Just like her, a foreigner.

“Kredimer Fury,” she introduced herself, explaining her wanderlust and exotic origins:

“I might be at a table
And suddenly I'll catch
A fleeting vision of her crystal seas
Or I might be standing in a crowded dockyard faraway
Beneath the sun I've never seen
'Cos I have seen many worlds.” ♫

She elaborated on her plea for guidance, for information, to be ‘directed in the right way’ in her search for someone. A no-nonsense rival.

“Low down - she don't take no prisoners
Go down - she gonna give me the business
No time - yeah chained to the rack
Show time - got a dragon on my back.” ♪

[Neru Amhran]

The wine was sweet, full, and had a subtle bouquet that didn’t betray it.


It was honest as the man who standing before the lady. He bowed slightly.


William’s expression was a faint smile. Sitting at the opposite chair, cold and barren, he listened to the message styled in musical or at least poetic means. All this time he held his glass delicately between his ungloved fingers, his thumb gently traveling across the cold glass. The effect was mute, and his only reaction was a nod.



“William Val’di, a small house. You appear to be in search for something?” He explained simply, then hazarded an open question. With that he set the glass down in the table, empty. He didn’t elaborate further unless asked. He didn’t care for filling the air with banter even if others did, however his silence might say other things.

[Archival]

Queen Kredimer stared at William Vivaldi across the table, nodding for him to retrieve another goblet, for wine to be poured. It was obvious the man was a foreigner, and so she decided any more queries would be futile; a visitor wouldn't know much about a legendary guardian in these Cold Mountains, a swordswoman she would like to meet in combat.

William seemed to be in a relaxed mood. Ah, the crisp arctic air, devoid of pollutants and civilization’s hectic hustle. Her Royal Fury could see why he wasn’t in a hurry to help her, opting for the enjoyment of nature untarnished. Who knows, perhaps in the next while, their metals would clash in a friendly. She certainly wasn't willing to continue exchanging banter, seeing as he was having difficulty understanding her allegory. Perhaps he was challenging her to continue on, wanting to listen, but she refused to be drawn.

However, Kredimer would like to try some of that wyne, so she smiled and said,

“She keeps her Moet et Chandon
In her pretty cabinet...
At anytime an invitation
You can't decline...
Recommended at the price
Insatiable an appetite
Wanna try?” ♫

[Neru Amhran]

William picked up on the hint and nodded lightly. Standing, he walked inside long enough to fetch a second goblet. This one was different, gold rimmed and in a word, shiny. He poured. It was a healthy dose of the red. Sitting back down into place William took to looking at the scenery once again. His head was full of little thoughts.
He would have to break the forming ice. “I am also looking for someone.” He made sure to keep the statement open. Watching a single large bird arc lazily across the crisp sky, he pursed his lips a little. It was too far to identify.

[Archival]

Admiration for the Alpine in ascent, arctic apexes agleam. Agate eyes bespeaking pleasure and enjoyment. William seemed ignorant of the local legend of a warrior, and so Kredimer relegated herself to a status of vacationer or tourist. For the time being. When the man returned with a chalice, she graciously accepted. Warm in her parka she had no plan of removing. The chill was acute, her elegant moustache in a state of frostbite. Beneath her nose, the wine's aroma wafted: a fine brand.

She took a sip, content to play the waiting game. Even the staring contest. Who would win? He surely would break once she started utilizing her moustache to great twitching effects. Over the gold rim, her penetrating eyes stared at Mr. Vivaldi on this winterest of seasons. Not saying anything, not flinching.

Just a nod inviting the gentleman to continue with what he needed, wanted to say. She was, after all, in the midst of reverie, busy painting her appreciative palate with a wine so fine.

[Neru Amhran]

She didn’t comment. She didn’t speak. William frowned. His green eyes hazed over her with the expression of loose regulation. He didn’t bear ill will, and his eyes showed it. He let her take a sip, and assess the wine with its sweet taste and full body. It wasn’t an old bottle, nor was it of exceptional grade. However, for wine in the upper mountains of a foreign land, it did well. William stood in personal solitude against the cold out on the decking. He didn’t sit.


That moustache was unsettling, more so on a woman.



After a moment a singular breath escaped the man’s lips. “I’m looking for a swordsman, or woman to cross blades with in study either for myself or them.”

[Archival]

Kredimer twirled and swirled the last drop of wine upon her palate. Grey orbs fixed on Mr. Val'di who opted for the comforts of viewing the magnificent Alps rather than the majesty of Her Presence. The man seemed content in his solitude, enjoying a picturesque cottage inn with only the innkeeper to bother his lonesomeness. Most people she encountered were noticeably thrown off by her exotic beauty, unlike anything seen on these lands. Mr. Val'di, however, showed none of the same unsettling reaction.

Then he mentioned that he was "looking for a swordsman, or woman to cross blades with in study..." Finally.

A sparkle twinkled upon Fury's eyes, like the glint of sun against immaculate blade slowly unsheathed from its scabbard. In her mind's eyes danced visions of two warriors clashing in swordfight across the fields of tundra. One, exotic and blazing with inner fury, the other, supremely serene and unhurried. A study in contrast. Two opposing styles.

The Queen of Discordia smiled. She placed the chalice on the table. Never one to turn down a challenge. Gracefulness accompanied her rising and moving away from the table. She paused, surveying the afternoon sky on the precipice of twilight. Would it be better to save the duel for the next day? But it would not matter. Dusk's disadvantage would apply to both.

With a deliberate slacking of shoulders, she slithered out of her parka. But before it fell to the deck floor, she spun around and caught it by the nape. Tossing it away. Lucky the banister pole that now served as coat hook for Her Majesty's raiment.

Her Majesty braved the cold in her thin multilayered apparel, purposely light in favour of mobility. But the cold shall soon be conquered by the heat of battle, accompanied by a symphony waiting to be sung by the Songblade sheathed by her side. Her right hip.

"Here we stand or here we fall
History won't care at all
Make the bed light the light
Lady Mercy won't be home tonight"

She opted for battle rather than retirement for the night.

"We don't waste no time at all
Don't hear the bell but you answer the call
It comes to you as to us all
We're just waiting for the hammer to fall" ♫

Wasting no time answering William Val'di's call.

[Neru Amhran]

He heard the gentle scrape of the crystal wine glass on the frozen table; the footfalls of madam Kredimer as she stepped forward and slid out of her parka. She would freeze to death before two hours. It was then that his eyes were drawn down, down past the feminine curves of her body to her hip. The glint of a blade hung there. It was then that William realized the weight of his comment. Her voice, singsong, commented to her haste to fight.



He sighed.



“Milady, I admire your haste,” he said as he bowed his head, taking a step forward, “shall we?”



In this arena there was no rank. She wasn’t a queen, he wasn’t a lesser noble. There was only skill with a blade. He stood tall and proud, his blade still in its scabbard, “I suspect you are well trained.”

[Archival]

“Fastidious and precise
She’s a Killer Queen” ♫

Kredimer replied to the challenger’s query as to her qualifications. Adding a smile of assurance that it would be a friendly rather than a ‘killer’ duel. Royalty and nobility stood still facing each other on the patio deck of a Cold Mountains inn. Situated on high elevation, the charming valley offering a secluded spot to sharpen a swordperson’s skill. There was enough of a plateau for even-keeled combat, amidst the gentle hills and steep cliffs which offered obvious obstacles for those wanting additional challenges. Reaching this pocket of paradise required an arduous trek up the mountains, and the traveller from Kingdom Discordia deemed a duel the most appropriate welcome a quaint tavern and its inhabitants could ever provide. Much more enchanting than wine or food or hot springs or a warm bed.

Queen Fury tilted her chin, gesturing towards the open meadow. To fight on the deck would put the little cabin in harm’s way. Besides, close quarter combat favoured grapplers and short weaponry. Out there on the tundra was where Kredimer and her Songblade would shine. Agate greys deemed the aggregate of William’s being already in accord; he stood there, awaiting her next move. Thus, Kredimer Fury turned and descended the patio stairs to walk the hundred paces to open field. Crisp frozen flakes crunching beneath her leather boots.

On the tundra, then, let thunders collide and rend asunder.

"Tonight, I'm gonna have myself a real good time
'Cause I feel a-l-i-i-i-v-e." ♪

[Neru Amhran]

William watched her walk away, boots crunching in the snow. The white sheet continued to be unbroken save for a precious inch or two under her feet. The land would be marred by their passing, but in time it would forgive, forget, and remain long after them. The land didn’t care.



He did.


As William stepped out onto the snow, he sank down a little further. She could dance across the snow that could be a foot deep. He on the other hand, might not. Eventually he joined her out in the snow and stood facing her. William closed his eyes for a brief moment, and spoke quietly. Out here, there was nothing to dampen his voice.



“One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, it is ten. Sway, to and fro, sway in the wind.”



The ritual was done, in an attempt to calm the outwardly stoic man's mind.He opened his eyes, drawing the slender blade from its black scabbard. It was plain, save for the silvering that made the mundane blade ornate. He bowed his head and waited for the return salute. At which time he took up the traditional stance of a fencer.

[Archival]

“One, two, three, four, five,
Six, seven, eight, nine o’clock” ♫

Kredimer spoke voicelessly in step with Sir Val’di’s own ceremonial numerical chant. But instead of likewise twirling her sword to every number, the Queen merely rotated on her pivot right foot. Her left hand resting casually on the Songblade hilt by her right hip. Because she was left-handed, her clock position was in reverse; her one o’clock was on the eleven, her three, on the nine.

And so her swivel was counterclockwise, her final position facing to her right. A quarter turn away from her opponent. In her peripheral vision, Sir William Val'di of the Fourth Season was an even greater study of patience, coolness, and quietude. She then gave her salute in the form of a closed-eyed respectful nod.

After taking a deep breath of arctic wind which spread like icicles across her lungs, the Queen of Discordia opened her eyes, waiting for the sun to wink out before charging at the Fencer twenty yards away. Songblade still sheathed, ready to be unleashed in an angular and upward arc, intended to slash laterally at Sir Winter’s horizontal weapon with enough forward momentum to also strike at his person.

"I can dim the lights
And sing you songs full of sad things
We can do the tango just for two" ♪

Thus began the fateful fight on frozen fields between Fiery Fury and Fencing Finesse!

[Neru Amhran]

William stood his ground calmly remaining postured, intent. When Kredimer charged, much like a bull in nature, he flicked his wrist to the right, dropping the point of his blade and causing her blade to cross against his. There was a brief clang as metal met metal, and William sidestepped to avoid the blow to his person. He twisted his offhand into an open strike to her side, just to throw her off balance in the shifting snow.

He grunted, stepping away from Kredimer.

“You’re strong.” He commented, opening up the distance between the two.