[center][h2][color=92278f]Dot[/color][/h2][/center][hr]

It had been a long day already. Dot was hungry, and sore, and she hadn’t slept properly in weeks, but tonight she was sure that wouldn’t be a problem. It had all been for this, after all, to be in this courtyard and to hear whether or not coming to Grayle had been the ultimate mistake. Part of her wouldn’t mind being denied. She couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d been found out, despite all the effort she’d put into disguising herself. Sure, she probably could have picked a better alias than her literal nickname, but only Adean had ever called her “Dot,” and he was an entire life away, now. If the knights turned her away, she would leave Grayle entirely bereft of coin and dignity, but at least she wouldn’t feel the need to sleep with one eye open. 

But, no, she didn’t [i]want[/i] to fail. Not really. This dream, soured as it might have been, had still taken nearly her whole life to realize. To simply throw it all away out of fear after everything it had cost her wouldn’t just be cowardly, it would be irredeemably stupid. Besides, there was no point in being disheartened over the future when there was already plenty for her to panic about in the [i]now[/i]. 

Dot lagged towards the back of the group as they made their way to the courtyard. She was nursing a limp from her opening spar, which wasn’t as bad now but still stung all the way through her shin. God, but it had been a bloody good kick. Damn near perfect; Adean would have scolded her for even trying, but he would have appreciated it anyway. From the neatly balanced dip to the rising twist and the picturesque snap of the kick itself, with just enough power to carry through the strike without torquing herself out of control. Even the landing could have made a dancer in a court of royalty blush. Everything had been just right, a perfect execution, except for the fact that she’d aimed too high and caught the other bastard on the hardened cap of his helmet, rather than his cheek. It had still put him on the dirt, but that wasn’t the point. “Killing blows” or disarms had been the rule for her match, and in the painful shock she’d dropped her waster. He was back up before she realized it, bloodied brow but sword still in his hand, and that was that. 

What a way to lose. She’d almost rather the boy knocked her out, at least then she wouldn’t have had to deal with the shameful hobble back to the lineup, or the snickering that followed. [i]“Little fairy boy,”[/i] they called her, [i]“get you some twirlin’ ribbons, you can dance for the real knights.”[/i]

Next time she'd hit the face, and she wouldn’t drop the damn sword. 

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

Dot glanced over to the scrawny boy hopping up and down for a view of the courtyard. [color=92278f][i]Yeah,[/i][/color] she thought, ignoring the groaning of her own stomach. [color=92278f][i]You and me both.[/i][/color]

Someone else approached, an absolute giant who Dot at first mistook for one of the adults. Looking closer though, he was certainly an aspirant like the rest of them. He’d lost his bout too, she recalled, though he’d put up a hell of a fight. Now he smelled like food, good, hot food. Dot walked away before she could start drooling. 

She found a thick fencepost near the back of the courtyard, pasted over with flyers and notices, and climbed up high enough to see over the crowd. The stage was still empty, but towards the front she spotted the glittering line of noble progeny, and scowled. All smug faces and confidence. No doubt the lot of them would be running things around here before too long. Just like everywhere else. 

But Dot didn’t have the energy to be angry. She was too anxious. After all, for many of the aspirants, this was the first day of the rest of their lives.