[color=0072bc] “No, no, no, MEREK. M-E-R-E-K. [i]Sir[/i] Merek, Baron of Ashenfield. You know, where you get your mead from? Ashenfield Mead? No?”[/color]

Though he couldn’t see the guards faces through their closed helms, Sir Merek, Baron of Ashenfield was almost certain these two cretins preventing him from entering the capital were sniggering at him. 

[color=0072bc] “Listen, certainly the King knows I’m here; I sent him a messenger last week. Just go and fetch the King, I’m sure he can clear up this little [i]tax[/i] you’re trying to pull out of me.”[/color]

Any other lord or lady born into their title would have been clear past the city gates by now, supping in the King’s great hall, but Merek… Well, he didn’t have the authority, nor the coin to negotiate past the two heavily-armored guards. Truthfully, raising some coin was the only reason the baron found himself at the capital gates in the first place. Ashenfield was almost bankrupt after the gluttonous spending of the past baron, and though Merek had claimed his title, he claimed the fiend’s debts as well. Paying a hefty sum to these guards simply wasn’t an option.

[color=0072bc]“Fine, I don’t have time for this, let me just…”[/color] Merek began, reaching into his coinpurse, when he looked up to his right and end exclaimed, wide-eyed[color=0072bc],”By the gods, A DRAGON!”[/color] The guards scrambled from their positions to get a better view while Merek grabbed his reins and spurred his horse forward. [color=0072bc]”Hyah! So long fools!"[/color] he shouted as his white stallion galloped through the open portcullis and over the bridge. [color=0072bc]”Don’t forget, today’s the day you were bested by Sir Merek!”[/color] The ragged baron’s voice trailed off he rode into the heart of the city. The guards shook their heads and turned to the endless line of peasants and merchants who had formed behind him growing restless from the delay. 

Sir Merek rode through the city as if he were the king himself, smiling and waving to onlookers. He was met with nods of recognition and cheers, especially in the run-down lower districts filled with average citizens, but as he made his way towards the king’s keep, Merek received more scowls than grins. Still, he was blissfully unaware of the wealthy noblemen and women shaking their fists as his steed trotted along the cobblestone streets. Sir Merek looked quite out of place in the wealthy district, his ragged clothes, missing armor, and cut-up face a sharp contrast to the regal garb and flawless skin of the upper-class citizens of Zespah. Though Merek wasn’t extremely wealthy, he wasn’t always this disheveled.  On the journey to Zespah, Merek was accompanied by his squire, Ergon. The man was perhaps 60 years old, a little long in the tooth for a squire, and spent most of his life as a thief, but wanted to change. Merek wasn't one to judge, and he took the fellow under his wing. One night while on the road, the baron was woken by some rustling by the campfire and managed to make out a group of ruffians making away with his supplies! Unarmed, he managed to defend himself and chase off the thieves, but not without losing a significant portion of his supplies. Dazed, Merek noticed his squire was missing, and feared he was captured, but heard faintly in the distance,[color=red]"Merek ya bleedin’ fool, tis’ what ye git fer trustin’ strangers!"[/color] Merek shrugged and simply went back to sleep.

The baron finally reached the Opal Keep and spotted the temporary building erected where a ragtag group of ruffians and adventurers were queuing up. Merek received a letter from the king one-week prior begging for the brave baron’s help. Well, in truth, the decree was posted on the notice board in front of the tavern, and addressed any brave adventurer rather than him specifically, but still, Merek interpreted it as the king’s cry for Merek the Brave’s assistance. He led Stormy to a nearby hitching post and tied the stallion up before swaggering towards the shack. [color=0072bc]"Alright, alright, excuse me, pardon me, lemme through, knightly business and all that, king’s expecting me,"[/color] Merek said as he pushed his way through the line. He finally squeezed through the crowd and into the building just as he passed a strange, ant-like creature with a couple more arms than him. [i]Jeesh, bet that guy’s handy in a fight[/i] he mused before taking in his surroundings. He stood in front of a small, circular arena with a dirt floor, behind which was a great wooden table elevated on a platform about three feet high. He recognized the tall, slender man sitting in the center as one of the king’s aids, Valanthian heraldry stitched onto his long robe. Before the aid could open his mouth, Merek spoke. [color=0072bc]"Sir Merek the Brave, Baron of Ashenfield, at your service,"[/color] he said, giving a lazy bow. [color=0072bc]"Heard the king needed me. Go ahead and tell’em I’m here.”[/color]

The king’s aid raised his eyebrow at the ragged champion before him. [color=DC143C]”Hmm, yes. Well, [i]Sir Merek[/i], the king is occupied at the moment so you’ll be dealing with [i]me[/i]. Now pray tell, what are your skills?"[/color] Any ordinary onlooker could detect the disdain dripping from the aid’s voice, but Merek hardly noticed. 

[color=0072bc]”Skills? Come on, you haven’t heard of [i]me[/i]? Merek the Brave? Slayer of Dragons? Destroyer of Urak? Guardian of the People? Etcetera, etcetera?"[/color] Merek was tempted to regale the aid with the exaggerated stories that accompanied his titles, but he managed to restrain himself.

The aid rolled his eyes. [color=DC143C]”I’m afraid I haven’t. Now. Skills please.”[/color]

Merek scoffed. [color=0072bc]”Well, I thought the king’s aids would be a little more cultured than this. But I’m more in the habit of showing rather than telling, and I’ll show you I can best any knight in this room, starting with…"[/color] Merek’s gauntleted finger stabbed out to an unassuming knight standing at the sidelines. [color=0072bc]"You, sir!"[/color] Just as he spoke, however, an armored knight two heads taller than anyone in the room and a neck thicker than Merek’s waist pushed his way through the crowd and stood in front of the knight Merek challenged. [i]Oh boy.[/i]

The aid smirked as the hulking knight stared down at Merek, his eyes burning coals. [color=DC143C]”Very well, Sir Merek. Clear the arena, lords and ladies, for a duel is afoot!”[/color]