17th of Spring, 515 AV
Late Morning
Syna hung in the sky, her golden light washing over the city of Riverfall bringing out the colors in the stonework in the buildings. Aoren walked wearing only a pair of light linen pants tucked into his boots with his leather vest. The day was warm affording some freedom when it came to attire. Draped across his shoulders was the iron quarterstaff that had become his weapon of choice in days of late. He was making his way through the streets of Riverfall toward the one place that he should have gone to the moment he’d arrived in the city.
The Citizenship, Housing and Labor Aid Office.
It was a curious notion to Aoren having to prove himself in combat in order to acquire citizenship among the denizens of Riverfall. It was not that he didn’t understand the concept behind it. It was merely curious. Given that in order to be accepted among the Drykas it was mandated that he be bonded to one of the Striders, he supposed every city in all the world had its strange customs. Zeltiva had certainly been a far cry from the sheltered walls of Syliras. For as much order had been present in the city there had been just as much random chaos. A facet of life he had never truly had to deal with under the protection of the knighthood.
As he came upon the imposing structure that made even he, standing heads higher than most and having spent the whole of his life honing the strength of his body, felt a little intimidated. The Akalak were a people of strength who were imposing to look at and even more frightening to witness in battle. At least that is what Aoren had heard. He had never really had the privilege of seeing one of the sons of Wysar and Akajia in actual combat. While he had certainly trained with several Akalak, he had never seen them unleashing the full breadth of their prowess in a life or death situation. Still, he could certainly imagine what it must have been like.
There was a line of people once he stepped inside. Each of them was approaching the attendants in turn. When Aoren’s turn finally came he met the calm gaze of a friendly enough looking Akalak. The man gave the Drykas a smile. His eyes went several places in short order. First there was recognition of the mark spiraling across the right side of his face. There really was no mistaking the opalescent sheen of one of Rak’keli’s gnosis marks. The second were the elaborate tattoos drawn upon the surface of Aoren’s skin along the right side of his body. Finally the man’s eyes grazed over the lily that rest upon the back of Aoren’s right hand. When the Akalak’s gaze returned to Aoren’s own he inclined his head.
“Greetings. What can I do for you?” Aoren gave the Akalak a nod of his head in respect.
“I’ve come to schedule my Kuvan trial.” There was a pause as the man reached for a sheet of parchment sliding forward an inkwell and pen as he did so.
“Please fill this out.” Aoren swung the iron staff down from his shoulders letting it slide through the palm of his left hand. He rest it against his shoulder keeping it balanced in the crook as he quickly filled out the form.
The form finished, he slid it back to the Akalak who reviewed it quietly for a moment. With a nod he set the form aside.
“Your trial will be held on the 26th at the eighth bell in the Tuvya Sasaran. Please do not be late.” Aoren inclined his head signaling his understanding before taking his leave of the office. He breathed a sigh as he thought on what lay ahead of him during his Kuvan trial. He knew that at the core they were merely looking to see whether or not he was proficient enough to defend himself or others. Part of him was glad that his trial hadn’t been scheduled for that very day. He didn’t know if he was entirely mentally ready. The day would certainly be spent preparing himself for what lay ahead.
.
Late Morning
Syna hung in the sky, her golden light washing over the city of Riverfall bringing out the colors in the stonework in the buildings. Aoren walked wearing only a pair of light linen pants tucked into his boots with his leather vest. The day was warm affording some freedom when it came to attire. Draped across his shoulders was the iron quarterstaff that had become his weapon of choice in days of late. He was making his way through the streets of Riverfall toward the one place that he should have gone to the moment he’d arrived in the city.
The Citizenship, Housing and Labor Aid Office.
It was a curious notion to Aoren having to prove himself in combat in order to acquire citizenship among the denizens of Riverfall. It was not that he didn’t understand the concept behind it. It was merely curious. Given that in order to be accepted among the Drykas it was mandated that he be bonded to one of the Striders, he supposed every city in all the world had its strange customs. Zeltiva had certainly been a far cry from the sheltered walls of Syliras. For as much order had been present in the city there had been just as much random chaos. A facet of life he had never truly had to deal with under the protection of the knighthood.
As he came upon the imposing structure that made even he, standing heads higher than most and having spent the whole of his life honing the strength of his body, felt a little intimidated. The Akalak were a people of strength who were imposing to look at and even more frightening to witness in battle. At least that is what Aoren had heard. He had never really had the privilege of seeing one of the sons of Wysar and Akajia in actual combat. While he had certainly trained with several Akalak, he had never seen them unleashing the full breadth of their prowess in a life or death situation. Still, he could certainly imagine what it must have been like.
There was a line of people once he stepped inside. Each of them was approaching the attendants in turn. When Aoren’s turn finally came he met the calm gaze of a friendly enough looking Akalak. The man gave the Drykas a smile. His eyes went several places in short order. First there was recognition of the mark spiraling across the right side of his face. There really was no mistaking the opalescent sheen of one of Rak’keli’s gnosis marks. The second were the elaborate tattoos drawn upon the surface of Aoren’s skin along the right side of his body. Finally the man’s eyes grazed over the lily that rest upon the back of Aoren’s right hand. When the Akalak’s gaze returned to Aoren’s own he inclined his head.
“Greetings. What can I do for you?” Aoren gave the Akalak a nod of his head in respect.
“I’ve come to schedule my Kuvan trial.” There was a pause as the man reached for a sheet of parchment sliding forward an inkwell and pen as he did so.
“Please fill this out.” Aoren swung the iron staff down from his shoulders letting it slide through the palm of his left hand. He rest it against his shoulder keeping it balanced in the crook as he quickly filled out the form.
Form :
The form finished, he slid it back to the Akalak who reviewed it quietly for a moment. With a nod he set the form aside.
“Your trial will be held on the 26th at the eighth bell in the Tuvya Sasaran. Please do not be late.” Aoren inclined his head signaling his understanding before taking his leave of the office. He breathed a sigh as he thought on what lay ahead of him during his Kuvan trial. He knew that at the core they were merely looking to see whether or not he was proficient enough to defend himself or others. Part of him was glad that his trial hadn’t been scheduled for that very day. He didn’t know if he was entirely mentally ready. The day would certainly be spent preparing himself for what lay ahead.
.
