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Frontier - Act One, Chapter Three


Parrhesia
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"Oh, I'd say we've worked enough of a sweat. Yeah, let's move."
As they walked, Rill explained in detail how many shades of red Arin turned - she did, at least, refrain from naming Bekka specifically, but Inge probably had a better idea of Arin's troubles than the young scout would have wanted.

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Now he felt bad. "Sorry," he said to her as she left. Perhaps it was time for him to leave the baths as well, rolling his pants back down and letting his feet out of the water. There, now they can enjoy themselves.

Instead, he decided to wander about Highwater, in an attempt to both find the theater, and see what he could learn. Fishin' fer rumors.

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A wall-eyed woman deep into middle age sighs. "Hard t' think the Camenicans and us are fightin' this side-by-side... in theory. The Empire's meant to band together at times like this, but the southerners won't lift a finger! Too desperate to please the savages 'round their area, I suspect."

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Arin had little to add to the woman's comments. He had little knowledge of what exactly she was speaking of. Instead, he just continued his way onto the theater, eventually finding out where it was. As he had nothing to do until the show started, he sat himself nearby and hummed to pass the time. Exciting.

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"Really? With how good you handled that halberd last battle, I'd be looking forward to see you fight with a sword." Barth said, impressed the foreign-looking warrior had such skill with a weapon he did not favor. "I prefer axes. I tried a mace before, they crush armor much better, but I had to move out of the way too often, they're quite heavy. Axes are heavy too, but the trick is to move as you swing. I think so anyways." Barth sighed. "Other weapons need some more... reflex, me being fast, I could be better at those, I guess. I'm not though, will take training." Barth hoped his talk wasn't boring the man. "Say, what do you like about swords?"

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Bekka had gone to the inn and grabbed a room. Laying on her bed with her crossbow and sword within easy reach, she stared up at the ceiling. She was exhausted. There was no other way to really put it. She felt like this was really her first chance to relax since this whole thing started. She wanted to enjoy it but... as she lay there, her eyes slowly closed and she slipped into a deep sleep.

Ten and Brenna had escaped the baths without too much awkward. As they walked out, he smiled at her. "So. Where go now?"

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Brenna put an arm around Ten's shoulders, and glanced around the district. The sun was beginning to set. "Well, I guess there's the theatre? Only other thing is the temples, and, well... 's not my idea of a good time, yeah?"

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Brenna chewed a nail. "Eh. I dunno, never been. But like it's a bunch of people actin' stories out. Seats cost a lot, but standin' out in the open's cheap as."

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"Could hang around in th' bar near closin' time. Pick a fight with some drunks, take their money. Th' play might be more int'resting, though."

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Ten snorted slightly. "Would be easy to pick fights with me around. Or at least that is my guess. People not like my people very much. And usually very willing to explain that. Usually with fists."

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"Then fuck 'em," said Brenna, bluntly. "They don't matter. C'mon, we'll go t' the play. Maybe there'll be fightin' in it, all I know is it's meant t' be history."

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Brenna scratched the back of her head, and looked a little embarrassed. "Awwh, nothin' beautiful about me - awwwh. You really think? Naw. You're real handsome though. 'S your face and all."

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"Sword poke hole in people. Then blood come out like waterfall. Pretty if do right." Su San answered nodding while absent-mindedly performing the motions with his hands, " But hard to do. Sword fast also, hit easy and kill fast. Parry attacks, safe."

Tapping the axe he had, the foreigner continued, "Axe fun too. Su San find axe make people very pain. Not kill fast like sword, but makes others very pain," Thinking back on the devastating blows he dealt with the axe, Su San stroked the edge of the axe although it was not by its blade, "people no scream no fun, maybe face look funny ok. Axe also hard to hit, add challenge Su San like. Maybe try mace later crunchy sound nice if hit. Mace hard to hit, worse than axe Su San remember."

His eyes brightening, Su San asked, "You like weapon more or you like armour?"

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"Armour." Barth said plainly. "I enjoy swinging an axe around, but armour just... fascinates me. It's impressive to look at when well done, even when it's full of dents and cracks. It shows a warrior's pride, that's what I think, anyways."

"Hmm, say, what do you like to do when you're not in combat? Do you train regularly?"

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"Su San also like flower arrangement on the side while trimming with sword and pounding soil with hammer and chopping down unwanted growth with axe!"

"Not fighting, Su San like..." the foreigner furrowed his brows as he thought intensely on what other finer things in life he liked. "Hah! Su San like go shop spend gold. Sit and hear other war story or what nice to buy, like what weapon nice or what armour cheap."

Stroking his beard his eyes taking on a dreamy gaze, Su San added, "Ya, Su San train to win. Su San want live always, can get many gold, buy many things. Su San dream to buy heavy gold armour."

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"That's a very fine goal." Barth replied, his eyes brightened up at the thought of such regal armor. A shame that such fancy armor described by the foreign fighter would be decorative at best. "The more we live, the more we get. That's good enough reason for me to train. It's nice to see people who get it."

"Mind if I ask --Have any ideas were to go? Can't say I know this place, all I know is that this temple caught my eye, and that the boss talked about somewhere to sleep. I can't sleep with an empty stomach, though."

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The doors to the theatre open at last, and a couple of burly men in sleeveless shirts start funnelling people in. Seats, of course, are a luxury you can ill-afford, but you're cordially informed the Countess has paid for all to stand in the open below. You hope it doesn't rain.

For what it's worth, the play itself concerns itself with the 'Most Vicious Tragedy of Gareth and Morgan' - the former, a man attempting to extricate himself from an arranged marriage with a vile distant cousin, the latter, a woman who is forced to dress as a man for reasons that escape you in order to romance him. You seem to recall they've never met, but only know each other from purple letters with... a certain extent of sexual imagery. About seven people are killed for confusing reasons, including the leading duo. But a woman cast as 'the Droll Maid' made a lot of dick jokes, which is some consolation, and it's probably for the best she's one of the few survivors.


You notice both the Countess and her daughter in the audience. The Countess appears truly taken in by it, uninterested in anything else - another advisor on her shoulder is clearly frustrated, but Meredith sighs and gestures him away.


By the time the curtain closes, night has fallen. Probably about time to head to the inn, sink a few pints and turn in - though you could talk to the actors themselves, or wait around for the Martanes to leave.


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The foreigner nodded at Barth's suggestion, "Food good. Maybe fish here good. Su San see big river!"

Su San spanned his arms widely then asked, "You want poor food or good food?"

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Arin ended up chiding himself for laughing at such immature jokes, though he had enjoyed what he'd seen--and what little he'd understood--for the most part. He'd almost forgotten about the awkward situation sitting at the baths had landed him in, but thinking about it just a little brought it back to his mind, and he sighed. Turning himself back to the inn, he decided that perhaps a drink would take his mind off of that, and remove the memory of Rill from his head. Not that it wasn't pleasant, it was just an unnecessary distraction.

----------

Sherry leaned against the window, wearing just her shirt, and smoking a cig. She had a glazed look in her eyes and a silly smile on her face. She glanced back at Cliving and giggled. "You sure are somethin', sarge. Can't believe you had be wait until now. Could've used that before all that marching, really..."

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The barman handed Arin a pint, glad to see someone relatively sane. "Get this 'un down yer," he said, "and watch out for the mental." He side-eyes Feran impressively.

Cliving shrugged. "Never fuck on the road. Dirt gets places."

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The barkeeper's gaze was irritating, although there was a cruel satisfaction his words gave to Feran - he was feared. Finishing his drink, he approached the barkeeper again, making a little show for Arin to see. He'd remembered the boy's face from before, it was a suitable time to show that he was not one to be messed with.

"Such a worrier, I suppose it would be a shame for a customer to cause some trouble no?" Feran taunted, putting his coins down on the table. "I'll have another, if it's as good as the last, I think I might behave myself."

He sat himself down firmly next to Arin, he hadn't finished toying with the 'tender just yet.

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