Yeong-An, Lord of Ubondat, descendant of San-Geob, first grade weapon master and representative of High Saeng Jok Lu was not pleased. Yeong-An was a lean, tall man with black hair and green eyes. He was one of the youngest Saeng Da-Hyun had ever seen, only being twenty five years old and he had lived his life surrounded by servants and with more money than he could ever spent. Since he and his companions were here on a peaceful mission, the alleged descendant of the god of coin and trade seemed like a logical addition to the fellowship despite his young age. and lack of experience Although the official religion was now that of the Order of Idris, customs tend to take a long time to be forgotten.
On the day that he had been invited by Jok Lu, the High Saeng, to join a mission to a faraway land in search of allies in a war against Oragos, he had gladly accepted. Traveling, smashing some skulls, meeting new people. This all had sounded so good. Little had Yeong-An known that his mission could be so boring. They had been staying at this petty Kingdom for a few weeks now, but with the death of the king (apparently in this culture that was a big deal and Yeong had spent quite some time figuring out why) the king-to-be seemed to be too busy to receive him them. Dung Suk and Mongkut didn't seem to mind, they were enjoying themselves in this exotic city but Yeong-An had soon grown bored.
At the moment, he and Mongkut were sitting on an especially comfortable row of seats. Dung Suk hadn't appeared yet which was remarkable since he was the eldest and (self-proclaimed) most responsible one of them. Yeong sighed as he continued cleaning his nails with his dagger. The words that were being said didn't really interest him. He wasn't that good at speaking Othean anyway and it seemed like Mongkut was paying enough attention to inform him about the details later. The only moment that sparked his interest was when the new king, a kid with a pretty face who seemed to be even younger than Yeong, proclaimed something after which some warriors came forth out of the audience. "Amatsu's hands, what did the King-Boy say, Saeng Mongkut?" Yeong asked. His interest had been awakened and his eyes had begun to light up. Mongkut was barely able to hide the disgust he felt, looking at the Saeng who hadn't even bothered to learn the local language and was solely interested in a fight. Many others had deemed Yeong-An unworthy when he first ascended to power and only his skills as a warrior and his ties to Jok Lu kept Mongkut from killing the younger man right here and now. Besides, it surely wouldn't leave a good impression if the king's first impression of the Da-Hyuni would be of savages killing one another during his coronation. With a deep sigh, Mongkut answered. "The new KING has proclaimed that all warriors worthy enough will now be holding a tournament. Also, you know very well that we shouldn't mention the old gods anymore. And besides that, you should try and learn to have some respect for those in a higher position than yourself, SAENG Yeong-An." He added, pronouncing Saeng in a especially mocking tone. But Yeong-An didn't pay attention to details such as intonation and theology. He grasped his twin swords and began struggling free from the heavy ceremonial robes, exposing his armor underneath. He also left most of his jewelry behind after which he began to walk to the arena's centre. "I'm going. Tell them Saeng Yeong-Hualinh-An, Lord of Ubondat, descendant of San-Geob, first grade weapon master and representative of High Saeng Jok Lu is going to compete in their little contest." Mongkut shook his head. If Dung Suk would've beeen here instead of sleeping off his debauch, the boy wouldn't have dared to compete without permission. "They don't fight until death Saeng Yeong. Please do try not to hurt any of them too badly.."
After he had finished his prayer, Marcus watched as the prince entered the arena. He noticed that the young man didn't have the face of a warrior nor was he build like one. His bright red hair did stick out and matched his crimson robe. Another detail that struck Marcus was that the prince was extremely beautiful. As time passed, Marcus watched the ceremony with increasing interest. The coronation rite was so different from the ones in Da-Hyun.
After a while, the king had completed his interesting vows and the crowd roared as the knights promised fealty to their new king. Marcus couldn't help but join the frenzied crowd in their yelling and applause. After they had all sworn fealty, the crowd soon fell silent. "Now that you all of have gathered here to witness my coronation, I would like to invite those warriors among you to come forward and, for the entertainment of others and your own reward, participate in the first Royal Spectator's Tournament!" Marcus didn't really feel like participating in a fight, risk injuries and discovery, just to entertain others. The king's next words however, made Marcus start to doubt.
"This tournament shall be a Grand Melee, the combatants will do battle until they yield or are incapacitated butnot dead. The winner shall have an opportunity to enter the employ of the Knights of Othea, or receive a sizable reward of 1,000 Gold Isurns." Being knighted really didn't interest him, but Marcus could surely use 1,000 gold.. But still, what would he do with the luggage he was still carrying and more importantly, he wasn't wearing any armor... As more and more combatants came forth, Marcus was still in doubt, weighing pros against cons. A loud voice with a heavy foreign accent made him forget about his dilemma for a moment.
"Saeng Yeong-Hualinh-An from the great eastern nation of Da-Hyun, Lord of Ubondat, first grade weapon master and representative of High Saeng Jok Lu would be honored to take part in the grand melee." One of the Da-Hyunin Marcus had spotted earlier, had come forward, clad in armor made out of metal that appeared to be silver. He carried ceremonial twin swords that still showed signs of daily use and battle. Marcus clenched his hand around Sang Min and his muscles tensed. Hate flamed in his eyes once more. Wasn't this the perfect opportunity that the gods had provided for him to spill the blood of his former countrymen, the murderers of his father? But what about armor and his stuff, the voice of reason whispered. Marcus rose from his seat, pulled his hood further down below his eyes, making sure his entire face was covered as he walked down the stairs to the middle of the arena. He left his bags by his seat, taking only Sang-Min and a blade that wasn't quite a knife nor a sword. He didn't think anyone would try and steal his well-worn bag and if a thief tried to steal his bow, he'd be easy enough to spot.
