[center][b][h1]Honor Among "Men?"[/h1][/b][/center]

This was it, Isaiah thought to himself as he watched a man opposite to him flicker into position. Isaiah had many feeling churning within him, but the most noticeable was an raw sense of excitement, that wasn't even his own. His eyes gazed over his enemy's gear and weaponry briefly. This man was obviously very experienced and ready to kill. He was sure that if he wasn't an enemy now, he'd probably had made an excellent comrade. The two men he had met in Minnit came to mind. Camaraderie was more than skill. Regardless of his experience, Isaiah didn't know enough about the man to make that assumption. Not that it mattered now though. No, the only thing he could do now was prepare to fight.

He watched as the man pulled his blades out with a sense of skill. Wielding both? The man was either stupid or extremely skilled. Isaiah didn't take him for the latter, so the man must mostly wield both. Without hesitation, Isaiah released a second orb which formed a brightly golden round shield, with a 2 feet diameter, which then attacked itself to his forearm. Flexing, the mechanical like muscle shifted feeling it's new addition. 

[color=fff200]"Long Live the King."[/color] spoke a tenebrous voice filled with a sadness. Isaiah stood over a massive bed, a crimson silk blanket sitting neatly over it. A frail looking old man stared back from under the covers. Although apparently sick, the man's features struck a strong chord within himself. Soft blue eyes peered beyond a veil of hardened expression and strong cheekbones. His long white hair lay neatly at his back. A man on his deathbed, and the only signs were a tenacious sweat pouring down a slightly receded hair line. 

The man laughed upon hearing the line his subordinate spoke. "King or not, death comes for us all." He forced a smile. "Speak boy, tell me what's on your mind. You have been my confidant for years. Allow me to be yours." The man tried to pull himself upwards, but only managed a cough and a sudden clamor of worry from Isaiah. "And skip the foolish pleasantries."

[color=fff200]"Sir-I mean-I-"[/color] His thoughts felt more scattered than they had ever been. Quickly pulling himself together he finally spoke, [color=fff200]"There is no one to take the throne after you. I've served your family for many years. How am I supposed to serve another?"[/color] The old King studied the look of worry on his subordinate's face. [color=fff200]"And-and- How can you expect me to agree to the evils of the council? You know as well as I, that they are nothing but traitorous leaches after their own gain."[/color]

The old King chuckled, holding back another cough. "My dear Aiso, you will serve and act as I have taught you to since you were a lad. Uphold honor, respect, and dignity. Fight for what's right." The man reached his hand out, to receive that of his subordinate. "And if that puts you at odds with the throne, so be it. A King is but a man. A man's worth is limited only by his honor. Keep yours."

Isaiah tossed away all thoughts of ignoring his opponent's remarks, as he spoke within his mind. [color=7bcdc8]"Nice to meet you Aiso."[/color]

[color=fff200]"You as well, sir."[/color]

Isiah began walking slowly toward his opponent, his bare feet pressing through the sand like dust, his weapons simply at his sides. [color=7bcdc8]"Greetings,  Lord Cardinal Tablurath of the Angar-Rylla’s Ninth Fleet. You may simply call me Isaiah Core. I may be no man, but I have the honor of one. I hope that I am fighting a man of honor, as well. "[/color] Isaiah kept walking, with intend of being face to face with his opponent. [color=7bcdc8]"Let's begin, shall we? And may the best man win."[/color]