[center][img]https://i.postimg.cc/J05PXNPx/316501d78428889e71f59744c964d769.png[/img][hr][h2][color=#486AD0]A Chivalric (Mis)Adventure[/color][/h2][/center][hr]

It was a beautiful day in Grayle. The sun was shining and the sky was clear, with a cool breeze blowing a thin mist up from the resplendent aquamarine surface of the Viridian River, drawing rainbows of refracted light out into the spring air. The people of the capital bustled about to and fro -- merchants hawking their wares in the town square, dockhands scampering hither and thither to unload the cargo of newly arrived vessels... and, more unusually, a particularly large crowd of young men could be seen crossing over King's Bridge toward the castle, where a sizeable mass had already gathered in one of the outer courtyards.

For the nobles, the last week had doubtless been one of leisure and relaxation. After all, their acceptance as candidates into the burgeoning ranks of the Knight Sentinels was already secured by virtue of their esteemed blood. Regardless of how well or how poorly they had fared in their opening spar, there was a vast future littered with prizes ahead of them, and for the time being, all they had to do was wait and see who would choose them.

For the children of soldiers and the students of swordsmanship, the last week was likely one of barely contained excitement. Confident in their results, they, too, needn't have feared rejection. Perhaps their thoughts had run wild with the prospect of having impressed one of the Knight-Commanders, being chosen as a favored student and assigned their own squadron, climbing the ranks and swiftly being knighted for their prowess. Such youthful dreams were as abundant as the ripples in the clear waters of the river below.

But for those who were unwanted, those who were unskilled, those whose lofty goals yet remained well beyond the reach of their tiny hands, and those burdened with secrets they could never share... Their week had no doubt been one of trepidation and anxiety. Had they done well enough? Would they be chosen? Could they really prove their worth and stand equal to their peers as knights? What, indeed, did the future hold for the unwanted and the unknown?

And more importantly...

[i]Rumble. Groan. Rumble-rumble.[/i]

[color=#EDC700]"...So... friggin'... hungry..."[/color]

A tiny, blonde-haired figure groaned, clutching at "his" stomach, looking aimlessly around the courtyard. Or rather, [i]she[/i] looked aimlessly at the backs of the people standing around her, since just about everybody else here had the [i]gall[/i] to be a head taller than her. She couldn't even see the stage to tell if the herald had actually shown up yet to start reading off who made it and who didn't!

...Well, it wasn't like she was worried about that, though. She'd beaten up some big-shot noble quick as a flash (admittedly with a little help from her trusty pocket sand, but the point is that she had [i]won[/i]) so obviously, she'd make it in, right? But that didn't mean anything if she starved to death before getting to reap the rewards of her sweet, sweet victory.

She'd managed what little remained in her meager purse as best she could since coming to the capital, but those funds had run out completely before she'd even stumbled across the knight tryouts, and, in a stroke of good fortune, realized that she could fulfill her childhood dream [i]and[/i] get food for free all in one fell swoop. Granted, having to disguise herself as a boy the whole time was kind of a downside, but she'd already been doing that anyway to keep herself safe -- or at least, [i]safer[/i] -- on the road. How much harder could it be to just stay in disguise all the time? 

She had, of course, forgotten that people who aren't just barely scraping by in abject poverty usually took baths every once in a while, but she would only come to remember that much later, when it was already too late.

For the time being, her lack of food preoccupied her so thoroughly that all else seemed insignificant, and she alternated between mourning the unfortunate ease with which she could feel her ribs even through the padding stuffed beneath her clothes, and periodically hopping up and down to try to peer out over the sea of people surrounding her and see what was taking so long.

And so, the waiting game continued. The Nobles confident, the dreamers expectant, the underdogs anxious... All were hungry for adventure, and one pipsqueak impostor was just plain hungry. Little did she, or anyone, know what highs and lows the future would truly hold. But they were young, and they were brave, and they were ready to begin...