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The morning was clear. Dew settled on soft grass.
Igris’ crimson sabatons press into the grass. Dew scattering. Tilting his helm up, Igris watches the sun crest over the horizon. Sunlight spilling across the fields, reflecting off the spires of the castle in the center.
Long rides, and many winding roads later, Igris has finally arrived. The Kingdom of Umbra. Where the tournament is to be held.
Truthfully, Igris did not have a great interest in the tournament itself. Or achieving victory. It was an opportunity to observe new and upcoming talent. With those making an impression having a chance to be hand picked by the king. Romored to be added to the guard meant to protect the crown prince.
Stepping into the territory of said king, revealed a prospering environment. Active markets with the commoners. Well structured buildings. Business and homes. A positive sign.
Igris stops. Observing a small stall. The vendor offers warm bread. Negotiating a price with another. One looks to be a sweet honey cake. Before Igris has much of a chance to think about purchasing one, the bond twitches.
The bond between Igris and an unknown. A string of red tied around his smallest finger. Where the other piece ends, Igris has yet to find out. A curiosity to find out has been one motive to travel. Besides seeking challenges of man or beast.
This is one of few times. Rarely does he feel anything. Not quite a tug. Not questioning or luring. Perhaps accidental? It is a strange thing. However, this time felt different. Closer. Clearer.
A small twitch. Igris follows the sensation. Looking up from the stall, to the castle standing tall. Surely not? Closer yes. But is it possible the fate tied one resides in that very castle? A noble? Simple castle servant?
His mind wanders more as he makes his way to gates. He travels. Has the other never left this castle? Is that why it never felt to change. Only once did he feel the faintest echo of sorrow.
“Afternoon sir. Your business?" The gate guard asks. Looking Igris, in all his crimson armor, up and down.
“The tournament .” Igris replies simply.
“Ah, you’re in luck sir. It starts on the morrow. Challengers like yourself are allowed to bed in the safety of the castle.” The guard looks over him again. “Provided you can show you have the means to contend?” The guard points to Igris’ hip.
Laying a hand on the hilt of his sword, Igris nods. “I do.” The guard opens the gate. “On you go. A servant will show you to a room. Don’t cause no trouble. And mind you keep only to areas you’re allowed in.” “I shall.”
Room and board. Quite generous.
The red string bond feels closer still. A bond visible only to him, and the other. It may be someone here. Though who, is another question. Igris feels more intrigue and curiosity than before. Once he had thought to look solely for the other. But it hardly yielded results. Now it’s been reignited. The want, to find the other end.
With a refreshing sleep and a meal. Igris was more than prepared to go into the tournament. Confident yes. But not overly so. Igris is no fool to think none could match him. He hopes to find a worthy challenge of course. He will however, not hesitate to put those that deserve it in their place.
The sound of royal fanfare. A horn. A trumpet. In harmony. Signaling the arrival of the nobility onto the grounds. Observers. The beginning.
A second sounding. Stepping forward was royalty. There was no doubt. Igris could see the darkened metal of a crown. Night. Yet still reflecting the shining of the sun. Amethyst gem set within. Dark purple robes dressed the figure to match.
A moment. Igris’ eyes widened behind his visor. For the first time in so long, Igris felt thoroughly shocked. For there, on the king’s own hand, was the fated red bond. The other end. The king.
A spark. Perhaps of his own turbulent emotion tugs at the bond. The briefest minute. A faltered step of hesitation. The king looks down. His eyes, a striking violet to match the gems he wears, follow. A second of the king's eyes meeting Igris’ hidden behind his visor. Then moving on.
Igris’ heart beats in quick rhythm. Like a battlefield encounter. Heighted senses. Blood rushing through his veins. A breath.
A king. His other is the king of this castle. The one who set this tournament in motion. Set Igris in motion to travel here.
Here and now. Where Igris finally learns who has the other end of red fate tied to them. A glance. A feeling. No, so many. Joy? Disappointment? Envy? Want? Igris is not so sure what he feels. Or where this might lead.
Perhaps nowhere. Igris, nevertheless, wants to find out. Find more about who his other is. As a king. As a man.
This has made the tournament a lot harder to focus on.