as written by Script
"Great! We'll see you then," Al gave a quick thumbs up, before pausing to wait for his brother.
Val leaned over to plant a peck on Inarin's cheek, before rising to depart. "Later!"
"S-see you!" Inarin managed to splutter out as the twins were departing. As they went, the call went out for the first round of the over-21s sparring tournament, and his attention returned to the ring.
____
There was a vigorous clatter of applause behind Noah as someone descended the stands toward him. The tails of Miron's coat swept into the warden's view before the silver-eyed man plopped down next to him. He reached for Noah's arm and raised it up in the air with a chortle.
Blinking in surprise, Noah scarcely had time to realise who it was that had taken the seat next to him before his arm was being held aloft. After a moment he tugged it free with an embarrassed huff. "What are you doing? The moment has long since passed for victory celebrations."
"There's no pleasing you, is there?" Miron scowled playfully. "You've won the match, but you act like your dog got run over by a car."
"It's no more than is expected of me," Noah answered with a defensive edge to his tone. "Because of my age, I'm matched up against students still in training. If I lose to one of the church's proselytes who haven't even taken the silver yet, then I only embarrass my own order. I ought to be dueling their paladins, but this ridiculous bracketing system forbids it because I'm young."
"So you win the brackets this year, they realize they need to fix it, come back next time for the challenge. Makes a difference!" he stated sunnily. "But... wait. How old are you?"
"Twenty. The lower limit of the senior bracket is twenty-two." Noah shook his head. "I doubt they'll change the bracket because of me. But perhaps due to that older proselyte, the one that injured the Iverian man earlier."
"I saw that. Brutal!" Miron exclaimed.
"Very. He's due to face off against a seventeen year old next round. I'm not sure how they can let that happen..." Noah grimaced. "The Nuvellon boy from the first round, if you were there for that. I was talking to his brother about it."
"They're going to let him fight after all that? Was he not injured, too?"
"I imagine they'll wait until the day to determine whether he can, but knowing the church... they'll likely let him. He's one of their own, after all. Easy to deflect blame onto the Iverian after that last exchange. That's what people will remember, over the lead-up to it." Noah scanned the crowd, noting that the proselyte in question had departed the area. "Perhaps, against one of his classmates, he'll slow a little more restraint. Though I hear it's far from his first incident this festival. He injured another competitor in the wrestling tournament, and punched a civilian in the face on Monday."
Miron beamed admiringly. "He sounds spirited! Needs some time in the field." He nodded, but digressed and pointed at Noah.
"Though, you," He swung one leg around the bench, facing Noah. "You and I have business, yeah?"
"Uh, business?" Noah shot a quizzical look at Miron, eyes darting down to note his change of position. "What do you mean?"
Jaw dropping, Miron whined, "Oh, don't tell me you forgot!"
"No!" Noah shook his head. "I mean, I knew to expect you. I didn't realise that was what you meant by business." He hesitated, looking off at the ring where a pair of paladins had started to spar. "So... did you have something specific in mind?"
"Well... I was hoping you would be able to tell me. I know nothing about this festival, but it looks like there's a lot of drinking to be had... I've already won my money's worth on you. We can even skip out on this! I'm more familiar with the outer parts of the city."
"I can't say I'm much more familiar, if I'm honest," Noah looked back at Miron with an apologetic smile. "I've always tended to avoid church events. I'm only really here because the paladin I'm working with suggested I enter the tournament. You already know how ... limited my scope of leisure activities is, so if you have any suggestions, I promise to keep an open mind."
"Hm. Well, how about this? We'll pick something up to drink, walk around, see if we can find anything interesting. If we don't... there's tons of other things to do. This is basically a college... church town. There's always something."
Noah raised an eyebrow. "I suppose if by 'something' you mean sermons and parish bake sales, then you'd be right," he remarked dryly. "This part of the city very much caters to the upper crust and their preferred entertainments. Concert halls, tea rooms, theaters... that sort of thing."
"So right up your alley?" Miron inquired.
"Not really," Noah frowned. "I'm an introvert, not a wannabe aristocrat."
"Oh, there's a difference." Grinning, the silver-eyed man reached for Noah's hand to pull him up the stairs. "Let's go, aready!"
"Of course there's a- Oh, alright," Noah blinked, tentatively taking the proffered hand and allowing himself to be led up. "Where exactly are we going?"
"Places. You see people with drinks in their hands already. There's food everywhere."
Up and out of the sparring crowd, Miron took them toward the food stalls. He tossed a doughnut to Noah. "You've got to be hungry after that spar, working so hard."
Catching the doughnut out of the air deftly, Noah raised an eyebrow. "You're going to have to give me an opportunity to pay for something eventually," he remarked.
"You technically have. I bet on you, you won, so I won."
Noah chuckled. "That doesn't count. That's just you betting smart," he stated with a grin. "Don't count on it happening again, mind. I'm sure whatever bookies you found will be changing their odds for the next round, now that they know I'm not your typical animancer. We don't exactly have a reputation for swordplay."
"If only they'd taken the time to know you like I did, yeah?" He stuffed his mouth with the doughnut and his eyes rolled back in his head. "Whaffo dey maff?"
"Hopefully not exactly like you did..." Noah smirked. "And... what?"
Miron finished what was left of his doughnut and took a breath. "I think we need to report this stand."
"For what?" Noah remained perplexed.
"They put drugs in the food."
"What." The warden turned to stare at his own doughnut. "Mine tastes fine. Are you alright?"
"But... it's just too good, right?"
An exasperated groan escaped from Noah as he turned to fix Miron with an unamused stare. "Really? That was terrible."
"But it's true!" he announced, handing Noah a lemonaide and taking one for himself. "Whatever this 'organic' stuff is they're putting in them, it's great."
He walked alongside Noah as they explored the event. "It's a little more controlled, but I guess it's a church event. You should see festivals in Terra. Even a few states over. Heard of Tiranoth? Exact opposite of this place."
"I wouldn't say it's the opposite. There's a lot of cultural crossover in the necromantic communities especially, even if it's often vilified by the faithful." Noah frowned faintly, making clear his disapproval of such attitudes. "The church may have done all it can over the last few centuries to control Lutetian culture and minimise outside influences, but all that's really done is encourage the counterculture to build momentum. You don't have to look far from St Lemeux and Luskonios to find communities that hate the church as much as the church hates them."
"Is it just necromancers? The church looks like they have a stigma against most things that are different. Not everyone, but enough that it seems a little... ah, you know, concerning."
Noah snorted. "No, far from it. Their scripture preaches intolerance for anything that isn't human, for anything even tangentially related to magic, and even if you are a plain old regular human, if you're not also devout, either child-bearing or celibate, and don't have a stick lodged firmly up your ass, then you're still not quite good enough."
That's not ... strictly representative of what we believe, Noah.' Aurore's voice piped up in his mind.
'Oh, it's close enough. And go away. I thought you promised not to bother me today?'
'That was before you started insulting my faith, boy.'
'I'm honestly surprised you're not used to it by now.'
Miron's confident demeanor drained away, leaving a man that looked very uncomfortable and very aware of his surroundings.
"So... say that it doesn't look even remotely villainous, but clearly inhuman," he asked.
"In reality? Most of the vitriol is saved for werewolves, and if they were still around in any number, vampires. They're the creatures that Lutetia has a history with in particular. Them and the undead in all their forms. Anything else - and even with them, really - it's going to depend on the person. You get your fanatics that truly do hate everything none-human, but you also get believers who try and ignore that side of the faith, and don't even hate werewolves." Noah shrugged non-committally. "I'd say there's more of the former camp than the latter, though. But perhaps I'm biased, and the former are just louder."
He smiled faintly. "I'm honestly surprised that I was allowed to take part in this tournament. Compared to necromancers, animancers are far more tolerated, but we're still not looked on favourably by the church. I expect that my paladin friend pulled some strings."
For someone like Noah to not be looked upon so favorably by the church had Miron sneering. "So... it's good to be a lot more careful around these parts. Or around Lutetia in general, I assume." He slurped on his drink and let himself relax. Why was he even worried? He wasn't a vampire, not a werewolf, not a necromancer. If he tried hard enough, he was sure impersonating a paladin would be doable.
And Noah, the first person he'd really stopped to speak to, didn't give a damn. Wouldn't give a damn.
"You mention this paladin friend a lot."
Noah raised an eyebrow. "I suppose I do. Well, aside from you, he's the only person outside of my colleagues at the Academae who I speak to with any regularity, lately. The two of you are quite similar in some respects." He gave Miron a sidelong glance and smirked. "Though I doubt you would ever make a vow of celibacy. His name is Peregrine."
Miron put a hand to his heart, then hung his head. "A moment of silence for the poor man. He's a brave soul." He paused. "But how do you make stronger paladins if your strong paladins can't make other paladins? That's rather backwards."
"That just about sums up the church in a sentence," Noah answered, shrugging. "Don't ask me where their archaic traditions come from. They pluck orphans off the streets and from care homes, and indoctrin-, sorry, train them from there. Occasionally one of the old wealthy families will send a son or daughter their way out of tradition, but most of the proselytes have nowhere else to go."
"I suppose that's one way to do it, if you prefer a large army and not a quality one," Miron muttered. "What happens to the ones that they don't need anymore? The ones that're injured or... weak?"
Noah considered for a few moments. "If they're injured in the line of duty, I think the church takes care of them. They're not that bad that they'd let their veterans rot. But if they don't make it through training? Then they're back to fending for themselves, albeit with the benefit of however many years of education. There are arguments for it being good for the kids, but I think the bad outweighs the benefits."
He smiled, then. "But they aren't all bad. I dislike the organisation as a whole, but as individuals, the few paladins and proselytes I've met have been nice enough."
Musing, Miron sipped his lemonade. "A relief. Maybe in the future that will win out, yeah? And people don't have to feel weird just because they're a little different."
"Maybe," Noah shrugged. "It'll take dragging the last few generations kicking and screaming, I'd warrant. All of the recent pack violence hasn't been helping. People are afraid, and fear breeds intolerance. You just have to glance at the papers to see that."
"There's entire packs here? Like, in the forest?"
Noah raised an eyebrow. "You must be very new to the city if you haven't heard about the packs. No, the packs live in the city - they're effectively gangs, with territory stretching over various neighbourhoods in the outer areas of the city, mostly in Vargeras. Not all werewolves are in packs, but enough of them are that the gangs are what people think of when they think werewolf."
"Very different stigma than some other places I've traveled," said Miron. "Usually very frightening forest people. Can't climb trees, though. I had that going for me." He swished ice around in his cup for a moment. "I guess not really the same here. Lutetia is colorful though, yeah? Everything you can think of is here."
"I wouldn't say so," Noah tilted his head thoughtfully. "I've never been there, but Terra is a lot more diverse, to my knowledge. Some of my classmates were from there. I've heard that you can find pretty much anything in the Midlands if you look for long enough, but I'm sure that's an exaggeration... or I was sure, until the news of what's happened over there lately. The whole region is supposedly crawling with bizarre interplanar anomalies now."
"Sounds right up my alley," Miron replied. "But I can't be too hasty. I still need the library of informaton in your head. It's like you know everything."
"Well, I have plenty of time to learn what with all of the not doing anything 'interesting' I do," Noah remarked dryly, shooting Miron a smirk. "Besides, I'm just familiar with Lutetia. All I know about Terra is fairly common knowledge for anyone who watches the news. I would have thought you'd know more, given that you're a traveller." He raised a half-suspicious eyebrow. "How have you avoided going to the biggest continent on the planet?"
"I can't f... I... can't walk on water, you know. Traveling that far takes money, and as resourceful as I may be, a plane ticket is a bit too expensive. I first got to Issunar a year ago. Was in the middle of nowhere- it was awful! I could barely speak any of the same language."
"Oh?" Noah blinked. "How did that happen? And you still haven't told me where you're from. I can't place your accent for the life of me."
"I was just, ah... taking a walk and ended up somewhere entirely different, if you can believe that. And you probably haven't heard of it, even with all your reading! It's a really small place, I swear. Not interesting at all."
Frowning, Noah stopped walking, folding his arms and waiting for Miron to do the same. He fixed the other man with a stare. "Why hide it, then? What is it you don't want me to find out?"
Miron spun around to face Noah and held up his hands. "N-nothing in particular! Here, I'll prove it. I'll give you the name. Avengarde. Small religious town. Droll and strict."
"Whereabouts in the world?" Noah continued to frown, before sighing. "Look, you don't have to tell me anything, I suppose. We're still practically strangers. But you understand that it looks ... suspicious that you refuse to tell me any real information about where you're from, don't you?"
"Yeah... no, look. How about this? I'll tell you everything tonight, but you have to be patient with me! There's reasons... that I'm shy about it. But it's not bad. You can look at my soul and see that I'm not bad, right?"
"It doesn't... quite work that way. At least not for me, but..." Noah's expression softened. "I don't seriously think you're hiding anything bad in that sense. It's just been vexing me how you kept dodging the question. I'm sure you have your reasons. Tell me when you're ready, I guess." He smiled.
Miron's shoulders sloped downward as he let out a sigh. "Thank you. I promise, I'll tell you all of it. Of all people here, I think you'd understand the most. Just... not here, not right now."
"Well," Noah said after a moment's silence. "Glad we got that sorted out. Now..." He took a breath, starting forwards and patting Miron on the arm as he passed. "I believe we had a festival to explore?"
That reaction was a lot softer than Miron had expected. Lutetians weren't exactly harsh, but not all as understanding. With a goofy smile, the silver-eyed man followed after Noah. He bumped his shoulder with a laugh.
