By Royal assignment

[Sintih]

(Continued from: A Royal Tragedy)

One could only scan an empty street for so long before running out of things to say to convince yourself you were doing the right thing. Sin sucked in a breath through his lips to hide a yawn, feeling his entire face tighten up as he did. He glanced over to the other squires he'd been assigned this position with. They hadn't noticed anything. Sin had decided that they didn't require his attention once he'd realized that he really had been assigned to the most remote position possible in this mission. With a sigh, Sin let his shoulders drop a bit, slumping forward a bit. There was nobody here to see him so the whole standing at attention wasn't important anyway.

As the bits passed, Sin let his left hand wander to his hip, where his shortsword was hanging from his belt. He softly touched the hilt, feeling the leather that was wrapped around it touch his fingers. It was new, in every sense of the word. Newly bought, never used in combat and unstained by blood. The grip hadn't even had the time to let his finger settle in it. With nothing else to do, Sin let his mind wander. He'd seen many different knights and squires in the training yard. And many different styles of combat that came with such a variety. Like himself, many knights seemed to favor the sword. A versatile weapon for both offense and defense that was easy to wield, even for amateurs like Sin.

Besides the large amount of sword users, both large two handers and small single handers, there were knights he'd watched who used to a mace or axe as a weapon, less versatile but each one useful in different situations. The axe wielding knights seemed to have an easier time facing opponents who used shield while the mace wielding knights had less trouble with armored opponents. Even for all its uniformity, the Iron Hand allowed knights to practice their own style of combat. This had led to some rather exotic weapons in the training yard. A knight with a whip, a knight with martial skills so good he took people on without a weapon, a knight with a different weapon in each hand or a knight wielding bow and arrow, each and every one of them was welcome.

Having watched these men and women train with their weapons, care for their weapons and challenge each other to further themselves, Sin had always understood that he'd never beat any of them with his physique and skills. There just wasn't a chance. He'd thought about trying a different weapon, something that would allow his physique to be a boon and not a curse but even the light throwing knives required some form of physical prowess Sin didn't possess. He could only watch and except that he'd never have the combat potential other knights had. Not unless he used something more. Something magical. The only problem there was that magic was frowned upon unless you had some fancy, and expensive, piece of paper that said that you could use it.

Andaris was good in many ways but its view on magic was archaic at best. Sin shook his head, pulling himself from his train of thought as he gripped the hilt of his weapon with his left hand. Looking back towards the back entrance of the theater, Sin wished his position had been somewhere inside. Either something important or somewhere where he could at least hear the play. Before he could trail off towards more complaining, the sound of gravel getting crunched between a boot and the stones that made up the road pulled his attention forward. Trying to spot the source of the noise, Sin's right hand moved to the hilt of his blade as his left gripped the scabbard, ready to use it.

[Aeon]

It was just one boring assignment after another, and all Aeon could do was smile and obey, since he got really close to being severely punished for not following orders several times before that. As much as he wanted to, he couldn't just go out and start chasing the remaining rebels without any support from the Iron Hand, and the hand was not going to give it to him.

The black velvet cloak with a beautiful blue dragon on the side dragged just barely across the cobblestone that filled his path as he made his way towards the theater. Having no intention of going anywhere close to this building during Tristan's play, Aeon was quite disappointed he received this very assignment. It always has to be the one place he doesn't want to be at, doesn't it? There was no specific reason for him refusing to go to the play, even though he was, all things considered, friends with the noble that wrote it, and had the money to afford it. The young skyrider just..didn't want to go. There were so many people there, and all of them made him feel anxious, fearful, and just not as gathered and calm as he would've been if he was guarding a lot lesser building. So many things could go wrong with this play, and as far as he heard, even the king himself was coming. What a lovely opportunity for a hitman to kill any noble he was payed. And the Immortals knew if that happened, Aeon wouldn't be able to forgive himself for not doing a better job.

The lookalike of the First Blazer's blade hung from his hip, bound by tight leather which did not give it much space to play in. The young man doubted he would need to use the blade on such a duty, but keeping his wits about him and his guard up was always a good thing. The missing hand was barely noticeable beneath the long cloak, and even the arm was covered in just amazingly crafted leather armor. The armor became sort of like Aeon's second skin, as he would wear it each time he left the safety of their barracks. By now, he would've been able to afford better accommodation, at least a better room in a tavern, but irrational sentimental feelings kept him from moving away from his small and overcrowded room. One of his past roommates was now even buried deep, after his death during the shadow beasts attack, one other fellow moved out not long after the civil war, perhaps because he just didn't want to stay in a city so ruined. And finally, there was the fourth man he originally shared the room in the compound with, and the man was much like Aeon. A man who fought bravely and thoroughly, except he never really talked much.

New squires moved in and out every couple of weeks, but since their beds had a good distance between them, and the skyrider only spent his time in the barracks sleeping or eating, he never truly gave a crap about any of them. Most of the squires were eager and willing, recruited only after the civil war, after the shadows, as they, most often, saw the knights defend their homes, and decided it was the right path for them. Fools with a deathwish, Aeon thought, but he had realized how he was once that very fool with a deathwish, still was, since he kept on going with his service even with his endless scars across the face and body, and the lack of one of his most essential limbs.

Just as he turned one corner and was ready to turn another, the young sergeant overheard something, much like a man upping his guard after a nap. What lazy fool was going to be guarding the stupid back of the theater alongside him. Why were they even guarding a place with no entrances to the event? Even if it had entrances, their station wasn't even far enough from the other guards so they couldn't hear if anyone was breaking in. Foolish. It all made Aeon feel kinda frustrated, but even more annoyed. He was a fighter, not a dummy meant to stand watch like Ouroboro or these guards.

"At ease, whomever you are, I'm only here to provide unneeded assistance." He didn't even bother to ask about the current sit, since he could see what the sit was. They were trapped there by the orders of their superiors, without many options but to sit around and wait for the play to be over, and the King and all nobles to clear out.

The weapon the man close to Aeon carried was rather new, probably not ever used, a squire? A brand new squire? Aeon, the man who fought the rebels, members of the VII, the bloody hellhound, and the shadows, was now doing squire work? The new skyrider colonel must have really hated him, or Ryqos, or both of them, to give him such an assignment. Who was the new colonel even? The young sergeant really wasn't in on many of the recent events.

[Yanahalqah]

It seemed fitting for a man against whom many held a grudge for one reason or another to have so many guards assigned to him and the building he was to be entertained in for a while. With the newest play of Tristan Venora’s hand premiering, King Cassander had to be well protected if they did not want him assassinated. Though she could hardly speak from experience, a play in a busy theater seemed to be the perfect opportunity for such a thing. Not only did the king not have the protection of his usual number of royal guard, the crowd would serve as concealment for the would-be killer, and with all eyes fixed upon the stage, the assassin would easily be able to move about freely. Well, depending on the architecture of the building, that is.

Naturally, the higher ups in the Iron Hand were aware of this, having earned their position not only because of feats of brawn, but also of brain. A minimum of strategical understanding was necessary to rise beyond the rank of knight, and seeing as she believed that the orders all of them had received made sense and were not unimaginably stupid, her superiors possessed that minimum at least.

When the doors had opened and all with tickets or with the money to buy the last few still in demand streaming inside, Yana had been there too, paired up with a knight to provide a bit of security between the audience and the passage backstage. Some allegedly famous actors had passed through, but both the knight and Yana herself were far to professional to fuss about it, instead keeping their faces blank and their eyes watchful.

There was a little commotion when the King entered, though from their position neither could see the young Reynauld, nor the Empress, or the Ouroboro guard that accompanied them. Neither of them were very disappointed, with the knight beside the Yludih seeming to be glad not to be near the entrance. She could understand. If something did happen they would not be in the middle of it. Less hassle. It took a while for the relative calm of the theatre to return, and when Tristan Venora stepped upstage, another knight arrived before Yana and her partner, telling Yana to go to the entrance where she was needed. Supposedly. The Yludih was well aware that the knight only wanted to watch the play, and that arrangements had been made so that as much people of high rank on duty were stationed inside. The squires would have to be content with being in the cold. Yana didn’t mind. Though she could not deny that she too wished to watch -she could appreciate art, and more importantly wanted to know just how good Lord Tristan Venora was as a playwright- at least she would not be accused of slacking off and letting the king be assassinated if she stood guard outside. If that happened, that is.

Stepping outside, the cold wind hit her like a fist in the guts. Inside was a whole lot more comfortable, albeit a little hot in her armor. She announced herself to and saluted the unfortunate steward left outside. He made a vague gesture with his hand towards an alley and told her to keep an eye on everyone who came close to the perimeter. There were two knights there already, one checking the outside and the other the inside of the area they guarded. Not clearly discernable from afar due to the shadows, they seemed like ghosts watching the area with eagle eyes. From close up however, they were leaning against the walls, chatting in hushed whispers. They shooed Yana away, further into the alley to stand guard there. She didn’t bother to argue.

Inside the theatre no-one had had a bow or other ranged weapon at their disposal due to the danger it posed for innocent bystanders, but even outside there were no such arms present. Were they that fearful for the king? Were the members of the Iron Hand distrusted by the Royal Guard, or the higher ups in the Hand itself? Maybe for the best, sword and shield should be more than enough for any who dared to challenge the Knights. Though bow and arrow would have been a lot easier, no doubt. Yana sighed, wishing for the play to be over soon. That way the boring night would be over as well, and she’d be sent back inside when the more experienced members replaced the squires to protect the king when he left.

To her feeling a long while had passed before anything happened, one of the chatty knights calling her over. “Blue,” they called, “the steward wants to see you. Hurry it up!”

She did, of course, once more presenting herself to the man. He looked her up and down for a trill, apparently not having asked for anyone in particular. If she had to guess, anyone who could be missed would have done. “Go check on the people stationed at the back entrance. Just to shake them up a bit so they don’t fall asleep. Ask if they haven’t seen anything suspicious while you’re at it. Report back to me. Dismissed.”
“Sir!”

Gravel crunched underneath her boots as she made her way all around the theatre to the back of the building, shield on one arm, free hand on the pommel of her sword. The long strides of her Eídisi form carried her quickly to her destination. Silhouettes became clear, moving around a bit, though not too much. Good. At least they were still awake. From what she could make out, the majority there were squires, as opposed to the knights at the front of the theatre. That and a skyrider, who was also there for some reason. Grounded perhaps, as in both having lost his flying mount and having to stay in a particular place due to bad behavior. As she approached though, it became clear that she knew the guy, the cloak alone was enough to make him easily recognizable. Ugh. Of course she’d have to interact with fools again. Hopefully this would not be a repeat of last time, with the skyrider insisting on killing himself and droning on and on about valor and bravery. Best option was to ignore him for now, she decided, instead focusing on the other person close by.

He was Eídisi, though looking far skinnier than was usual for the race, which could even be seen through the layers of padded armor the man wore. Armor that showed he was a squire of Gawyne. Perhaps that was why Yana had not seen him before; she was –as her armor told everybody—a squire of Andaris. She wondered though, why was a squire of Gawyne stationed here of all places, and not in, well, Gawyne?

She addressed him then, thinking it would be faster to get answers from him than to look all over the place for someone in charge. She cut to the chase immediately. “Salutations. I was sent by Steward Patrick Matthews, stationed at the main entrance. Are there any knights or higher officers present here?” She hadn’t seen any, and suspected they had all opted to be inside or at the main entrance, but she could be wrong.

[Sintih]

Sintih's grip on his blade lessened slightly when the person came into view. The light from their post illuminated the person and their outfit, immediately registering him as a member of the Skyriders. From his father's teachings, Sin recognized the man's colors and outfit as those of a sergeant, meaning he was higher in rank than both Sin and his squire partner at this Immortal forsaken post. Moving his hands away from the blade, Sin instead gripped it with his left hand while his right came up for the customary salute towards a higher ranking officer. It was something Sin had gotten quite used to as a squire since everyone in the Iron Hand ever was of higher rank than him.

With the customary permission to ease up after a salute, Sin let his back relax, moving his hand down from the salute. He was glad the sergeant wasn't one of those hard asses who kept newly recruited squires tensed up for the fun of it. "Squire Rathaan, at your service, sir. We thank you for your assistance." The squire next to him mirrored Sin and his greeting. Apparently his name was Nemix, good to know. Before Sin could ask the sergeant if he had any orders for them or had anything, and Sin meant -anything-, else to do for them footsteps from behind him told him another person was nearing his position. Glancing away from the sergeant, Sin looked back to see a young Eidisi woman dressed similarly to him walk up to them. She wore the same white tabard, although with a black color, making her a fellow squire.

Again, the other person seemed to speak before Sin could go through the customary procedures. Was there anyone who actually followed the etiquette anymore? Seeing as how she wasn't higher ranked than himself, Sin forewent the rank and simply answered her as best he could. "The highest ranking person is sergeant..." He hesitated, realizing that he didn't know the man's name, before correcting himself. "...is the sergeant." Sin motioned towards the person who had just arrived a moment before her. "Unless you're looking for a Moseke Knight specifically then you need to be back near the entrance." Sin moved his hand to motion in the direction she'd just come from where, a little in the distance, the post at the back entrance of the theater was visible.

First nothing for half a break and now two people at the same time. As he answered the woman, Sin let himself take in her person. Since he parents didn't count and he hadn't really spoken to any other Eidisi in Andaris, he figured it might do him good to remember this moment. She was shorter than him but as tall as an average human male, which was normal for an Eidisi. Most of the rest of her features were hidden underneath her armor but Sin could tell from her gait and stance that she had some experience under her belt. Looking from the Eidisi back to the sergeant, Sin waited to see if the man had anything to add to his previous statement.

This wait gave him time to observe the man. Where the female squire had betrayed her experience by her stance and gait, the man before him was obviously a veteran of some sort. The amount of scars gave it away even before the stance or the armor would. On one hand, Sin hoped the man would take charge, that would make the evening at least a little bit less boring and he wouldn't have to worry about reprimands later for overstepping his station. But on the other hand, Sin figured he was probably more qualified to lead this little team of Iron Hand members than the other two combined. Or at least more qualified than the two squires combined.

[Aeon]

The two squires stationed in the arse of the theater were quite polite, even too much, perhaps. Did they already figure out he was a sergeant? Oh, that made things much more boring. The young man simply waved without any enthusiasm to suggest that the two should be at ease, right before the yet another knight appeared. Yet another Eidisi, how strange, Aeon thought.

It was her! The thought didn't take long to be formed within the skyrider's brain. It was the woman from the gates, and the boat, the arrogant, distant one. Bloody hell, was she still a soldier? The young man presumed she would've dropped out of the Hand, just because of her attitude he remembered. She, she was half of the reason why Ryqos was dead, or why Aeon was alive, but in any way, she was half of the reason the mentor and apprentice currently weren't together. Bullshit, what's she doing here.. Probably a knight's duty, the blond man thought, as he went across his eyepatch with his hand while she talked with the squire..what was his name again?

"Patrick...Mathews?" The young sergeant mumbled to his chin, as he heard the woman speak of her orders. A steward sent her, did that mean she was also promoted? Also, who was this steward, Aeon surely had never heard of him. Was he one of the recently promoted? There were certainly many recently promoted knights, and the boy had even heard that there was, or would be at least, a new Warden of Andaris. That was a big title to toss around, especially since the Colonel of Andaris had just been replaced too. Just.. It had been almost 70 trials, and yet the young skyrider couldn't bare the thought.

"Aeon." The blond man replied to the squire's words. Clearly, he didn't know the sergeant's name, so Aeon decided to give it to him. As he got back fully onto his feet, departing from the wall his back was hugging for several trills beforehand, the skyrider looked towards the Eidisi woman. What did she need a knight for, he wondered.

"That would be me. Has anything happened up there?" He doubted that was the case, the steward, whatever his name was again, probably just wanted to wake up the knight in charge of the back station. Syke, there was no back station, there were only two squires and a cripple. Still, he needed to at least hope to get away from this duty. He was better than guarding a place no assassin or thief would ever even check out.

[Yanahalqah]

Of course the highest ranked individual was the skyrider. She'd hoped to be able to ignore him as much as possible, and while she knew openly defying rank would cause her trouble in the long run –and probably in the short run too-- she couldn't help but be tempted to do just that. She disliked interacting with fools, and having to follow orders of one was an almost unbearable thought. It was obvious that the man was skilled though, the Yludih recognized that much, but still. What good were combat prowess in the hands of one without a mind to use it properly. It was like giving a child a crossbow. Dangerous. Giving such people a position of leadership was no better. Then again, a sergeant was about the same as a knight, and thus not really an actual high position. She was glad for it. The world really was going to shit if Aeon had been promoted above sergeant!

“Thank you,” she told the other Eídisi squire, a slight nod of her head accompanying her words. One of the blue kind she could respect for their mental capabilities, and if the man's pale skin and lanky, weak frame told her anything, he was supposedly some 'brain over brawn' kind of guy. That was good. The Iron Hand could always use those, though it would make things harder for her if she wasn't careful. He'd been observing her already, no doubt, and possibly would again during future encounters. A minor slip-up on Yana's part might cost her her cover and her head. Probably. Unless the man was clever enough to realize the use of a Yludih. She didn't put it past him.

She turned to the sergeant then, performing a quick salute, hiding her reluctance behind a blank face and slow disinterested movements. “Negative,” she replied to his question, “Ser Matthews wanted to know whether something out of the ordinary has happened here.” Not that she thought this newly appointed sergeant could help her at all. From his position she deduced he had not been at the post for too long, especially so since the squires hadn't even heard his name yet before now. It was likely he'd arrived just a tiny bit before she had. She'd rather ask the squires, but protocol dictated otherwise. It was damn inconvenient. You did not go to ask the King what was going on in the city; you asked the people. Because the people usually had been there and had seen what happened. The King only had heard a second hand version of the story. And she would ask the squires too, if the sergeant indeed knew nothing.

A thought struck her then; if she was to go and report back to the main entrance, why not return here instead? If anything, at this post she could at least observe the Eídisi squire, perhaps even get involved in an conversation that used brain cells. It was a whole lot more alluring than standing at the main entrance bored out of her mind. “I will need to go report to Ser Matthews,” she declared once she'd heard what she needed to hear. She turned her head towards Aeon, tracing his scarred face with her eye. She saluted again, this time preparing to leave, not planning on staying away for too long.

[Aeon]

The unwillingness to preform the salute was obvious across the Eidisi woman's face, and even though so many officers within the Hand would've held it against her, Aeon didn't. When he was a squire, his salutes were nothing but lacking in enthusiasm, and there was no doubting that this woman had more than just the one reason to not want to salute him. Salutes were pointless anyways, the sergeant thought.

"As far as I am aware, nothing at all has happened here, but I was just ordered here, so I suggest you speak with the squires." And with that, the young man smiled and turned his head towards the squire, what was his name again, Nimex, or something like that. Surely enough, and just as quickly, his gaze followed and went towards the other, Eidisi squire. Truly intriguing, how Aeon hadn't seen many Eidisi during his entire time as a skyrider, and yet right there, at the arse of the theater, there were two.

As the woman left the three soldiers alone on the edge of nowhere to stand guard, awaiting something that wasn't going to come, the skyrider went back to his place near the wall, leaning against it. The play was barely audible from out there, unlike the audience which could be heard without question, only the words could not be understood. So many voices at once, so many different conversations, how did they even hear each other during the play? Or why were they even talking?

"Not many Eidisi in the Hand. I s'ppose the cold wasn't for you squire?" Aeon said, as he looked towards the young blue man. As he awaited the response, the skyrider tossed a golden coin in the air with his thumb, only to close his eye and attempt to catch it. A failed attempt. And yet another try was given, as the same golden coin went up in the air, and then down again, falling just barely out of the one-eyed man's grasp. This is bloody tough, how did Ryqos ever do it? He could remember his mentor doing this for hours, especially when gambling, and the first time he was given the coin to try, Aeon was actually close to succeeding. Now, it all seemed to go horribly wrong each time he tried it. If he couldn't control where he was going to be tossing the coin, or where it would land, how the hell was he supposed to control a volareon, or even jacadon, once in the air?

[Sintih]

Sintih quietly watched the short back and forth between the newly arrived squire and the skyrider. It was an interesting combination, these two. On one hand, you had Sin's first up close Eidisi, and a woman to boot. He wanted to talk with her because he'd never actually spoken with Eidisi outside his own family but on the other hand he was afraid of making mistakes and getting found out as an Yludih. Such a dilemma. Then there was the Skyrider who wasn't riding the sky in any way, shape or form. Sin had to admit that he was disappointed there was no volaeron or Jacadon nearby he could admire. He'd heard so much about them but he had never seen one from up close.

The conversation suddenly turned towards him as the skyrider handed the Eidisi squire's question over to him and Nemix. He quickly glanced over to his fellow squire and saw that Nemix was looking at him much in the same way. Well, take charge and be a leader. "No, sir. Nothing has happened here. At all." It slipped out before he could stop himself. Sin could feel his cheeks starting to warm up in the evening air as he held his breath. Great start, Sin, great start. He looked from the Skyrider to the Eidisi and back. The squire saluted and started to walk away while the sergeant went back to standing guard. Or leaning guard.

There was a silence for a while. Well, they were silent, the air was filled with noises from the theater. So many voices all packed together, Sin was surprised they could hear anything at all out here but the play seemed to bring out the loudest in people. He was pulled from his thoughts by the voice of the sergeant next to him. "No, sir. She was the first Eidisi I talked to in the hand, sir." Confused by the mentioning of the cold, Sin first looked down at his armor, trying to spot anything there that might give away that he was wearing an extra shirt or anything. When he couldn't spot anything, Sin looked back up. "The cold, sir?"

How did this person ever get into the Skyriders? Sin watched the sergeant, a ranked knight, leaning against the wall, flicking a coin up in the air with his thumb and trying to catch it again. Besides the fact that he seemed horrible at it, constantly missing the catch, Sin found nothing in the man that showed professionalism. His veteran status was easily confirmed with the amount of scars on him but Sin couldn't grasp any other quality he thought necessary for a ranked knight. Sin got the sense that this sergeant didn't really stand much on the ceremony that surrounded everything in the Iron Hand. He hadn't even saluted yet.

Sintih's thoughts were disturbed by a loud voice coming from his other side, away from the sergeant. "Halt!" Nemix voice carried well, which surprised Sin as he thought the squire to be too timid. Looking down the street, Sin noticed four men standing a few steps away from Nemix. While Sin had been badmouthing the sergeant in his mind, he had lost sight of the world around him himself. As Nemix looked past him towards the sergeant, Sin looked at the men. Two of them were carrying a box each and the other two were carrying one big box together. "Sir?" Nemix asked and waited for Aeon to take charge.

[Yanahalqah]

“Ser,” she greeted the steward with a salute as she arrived, waiting for a brief moment until he gestured her to stand at ease and allowed her to speak. “Nothing out of the ordinary has happened, Ser, everything is still under control.”
Patrick Matthews nodded, dismissing her with a sluggish gesture, and got back to leaning against the wall of the theatre. Yana remained where she stood, once more getting his attention, but also earning her an annoyed expression from her superior. “Is there anything else?”

“The defenses at the back are minimalist at best, ser. There are two squires and a skyrider stationed there, which I do not think is adequate to secure the entire area, nor to stop a terrorist attack should it come.”
Matthews raised an eyebrow, rolling his eyes, but did not shush her.
“I believe we should improve the security just to be sure, ser. If anything sh-”
He raised his hand. “Yea, yea.” He sighed. “Actually, the back entrance is not under my supervision.”
“But ser! With all due respect, I do not-”
“Then you go.”

The Yludih shot him a questioning glance. “Ser?”
“You heard me. You go.”
Yana protested, not wanting to come across as too eager. “But ser, sending one squire is not going to help much. Can you not send a couple knights?”
“Listen here, squire. I don't need to be lectured by you! The back is under supervision of Henry Eiyht-” the disdain in his voice when speaking his name gave enough clues to Matthew's relationship to the man. “- while I supervise the front. The King-” he paused for ephasis “-will be leaving the theatre from the front. I need every knight I can get. I cannot miss any of them. If you think the back needs extra security, you go be the extra security. Am I clear? ”
“Crystal, ser.” the Yludih spoke, voice flat and face blank.
Matthews waved his hand as if he was removing something distasteful from his shirt. “Dismissed.”

* * *

It did not take very long to get back to the back entrance, even if it meant going back the long way. However, when she entered the alley the two squires and the sergeant were stationed, they were not alone. There were four other men with boxes. Obviously she questioned the reason they were going to the theatre, with suspicious boxes, right now when the King was in the building. And why did they choose the back entrance? Sure, it was used for staff, but these men did not look like theatre-staff to her. She frowned, but instead of increasing her pace, she slowed down, making sure to move as quietly as possible. Perhaps the squires could use a surprise attack to their advantage should the men have not-so honest purposes. Slowly she unsheathed her sword, making sure to do it as silently as she could, ceasing her approach so she wouldn't mess up. Only when her blade was naked she started tiptoeing closer again, deciding to hide in the shadow a couple meters behind the men.

[Aeon]

"Viden, your race's city. I've heard it's quite cold." Aeon said, as he realized the young squire didn't know what he meant. Perhaps he wasn't born in Viden? Impossible, every single Eidisi the sergeant heard of was born in Viden, why would this one be any different? Then, out of the blue, the skyrider's mind floated to the appearance of a baby Eidisi. How hilarious, he thought.

Just as he was about to catch the damned golden coin, Aeon heard the loud voice of the other squire, whose name he still believed was Nimex. There was someone out there, the skyrider presumed, or the squire was just going mad from boredom. And just as swiftly, the sergeant saw the men as well, right when the squire turned to him for guidance. Four of them, with three boxes, going to the back entrance in the middle of the most crowded play in several seasons. This couldn't have been good.

"Behind me, for all we know, those could be explosives." Aeon said to the squires, as he took the lead and walked several feet ahead towards the men. His face lost the wacky smile and was now fully serious while he contemplated the possible reasonings behind the men's appearance. "Who goes there? And please, don't tell me you're staff of the theater that got attacked by bandits on the road, just be honest, and we can all go to our homes in one piece." You, the skyrider meant you, not we.

The young man put his one hand on the hilt of his blade, as the gap where the other one should've been became exposed to the outside world. Aeon could bet the golden coin that fell on the floor a few trills earlier that they were gonna get attacked. Hopefully the squires knew how to run, at least. Could he even take on the four of them by himself? It would truly depend on their training. Were they bandits? Thieves? Terrorists even? They surely were not good guys, since no good guy would be there, at the arse of the theater, while the play is ongoing.

Who could've guessed, some excitement.