Snippet #2415337

"Ridley," Kara started "I meant what I said earlier. I realize it is who you are. You void out negative emotion. It is your defense mechanism when confronted with conflict. You smile all the time because of those around you. You want them to see your confidence, so that it may radiate within them..."

The senior Warcaster opened the door to his temporary living quarters, and let him walk in first before her. It was a lavish room, with a bed suited for a king, adorned with glorious paintings of Cygnar's historic figures. Fine silverware and plates were set at the table on the far side of the room, and the three windows facing outward toward the tournament grounds were accented by flowing blue and gold drapes. Ridley walked around the room, feeling a bit out of place given the bulk and crudeness of his armor in comparison to the majestic feel of the room. He stopped at the window and paused, and for a while, simply looked out.

"That's one aspect I've never seen in any man. No matter how trained they are, no matter how cynical and jaded by the world they might be, people break. Smiles turn into twisted images of fear in the face of death, or into something more solemn has the harsh reality of war falls upon them. Yet you have not once lost your smile in a fight. You've had gashes from blades, holes from shrapnel, but still, you smile."

With some delicate maneuvering, Ridley took a chair from the table and very slowly eased his way into it. It creaked only little, a show of its fine craftsmanship. As he gazed out, he mentally noted his mentor's words, occasionally looking back at her to give a nod of recognition. She leaned on a wall nearest the farthest window, and crossed her arms over the chestplate of her armor, taking note of his face. For whatever reason, his smile was lesser now than it was earlier. Despite this, she continued.

"Furthermore, in your training at the Academy, it was noted several times that you have an defined affinity for controlling the winds. You took to such spells involving air much quicker than that of lightning, even quicker than that of simple arcane spells. Based on reports, this is unusual. The list goes on Ridley, even when it comes to that Sentinel. That day...you should have died. You had enemies from all sides bearing down on your position, yet for whatever reason, that 'jack displayed unprecedented prowess when it shielded you. Such prowess has been rarely seen, and only by one such other light warjack. Unexplainable things happen around you, and I have yet to determine whether or not that is a good or bad thing."

His face became more grim, though one edge of his mouth was still slightly perked up. Leaning forward, he put an elbow on his knee, and rested his chin in the palm of his hand. The hum of their turbines filled the room for a few moments, before Kara decided the finish up her speech.

"These are things you have probably contemplated already throughout your Journeyman training, and over the course of your tour with me. Perhaps it is something the future will reveal in due time. What I do know is that tomorrow is the chance for you to display your gift." She pushed off the wall and made way for the door, pulling it behind her, yet before it fully closed, she turned to him one last time, "Don't forget the banquet tonight. All of your competition will be there, and I advise you get a feel for who is who. I won't be there as I must meet with some of the city officials. Enjoy yourself, Ridley, and don't lose sight of why you are here. Also...in the closet, you'll find Zephyr."

The young man perked his head up to look at the closet, and before he could turn around to issue a farewell, the door closed. Getting up from the chair, he made way to the closet and opened it. He gave a brief chuckle, and closed it.

-----

The banquet was something he thought would be a rather small gathering, just for the participants. He couldn't be further from the truth. As he entered the exquisite room, he found that not only were their other journeymen and warlocks, but countless other officials and nobles, and not just from Cygnar. As he proceeded further into the room, his eyes traced over each of the kingdom's representatives, including the freshly permitted non-kingdom persons. There were Khadorans, one of whom stuck out a little more than the rest, as he sat to himself a ways away from his people. His youth and solid posture lending to his imposing figure due to his armor. The Menites were off in a corner to themselves it seems, although they too had a unique individual. Standing roughly at 6 foot tall, the man was adorned with countless holy symbols, and despite his young appearance, he had strikingly white hair. For an instant, his eyes met Ridley's, and Ridley could see in his amber eyes a unrelenting fire. The dwarves and ogrun also kept themselves away from the main floor, much like the Druid and her companion. In that moment Ridley say a tensity in her posture, as she took a step forward only to be stopped by her ally. He spoke to her, yet her face showed no calm.

As it was, the only real socializing to be had was that of the officials. Each of the kingdom and non-kingdom folk barely spoke, even to their own. Ridley sighed to himself, as he himself didn't even feel like talking to the diplomats of his nation, who, once they saw him, immediately waved and beckoned him over. His smile took and uneasy turn, and he resorted to the closest thing that he could in order to keep him away.

A glass of champagne...

With a few tinks of his glass using a small spoon, he very suddenly found an entire hall of very important individuals staring down their noses at him. "That...may have been overkill..." he uttered to himself before reaffirming his stature.

"Good evening everyone! I...uh...heh...I am Ridley Lawson of the Cygnar Military." His smile wavered slightly as he heard mumbles within the crowd, and a few scoffs. He beat back the stress, and his smile returned as he walked into the center of the room, glass at chest height. "This is my first time ever really giving a toast, or really any sort of speech, but here it goes."

"Tomorrow represents another step in history, for all of Immoren. This year we have with us the privileged persons of the people not of the kingdoms. These individuals represent the future of their respective lands, a symbol of strength and hope. This tournament is the chance for each one of these gifted citizens to display not only their patriotism, but their inner power. May we all recognize where each of us come from. The Khadorans, who's resolve is as immovable as a frost-tipped mountain. The Menites, who's faith is ever unwavering. The Rhulic, who's determination is as fiery as their forges. The Druids, who mastery of the wilds are unparalleled. And of the Trollkin, who's fierce tenacity and bellowing voices shall never be forgotten. These are people who will show everything they have to the world."

He rose his glass, and turned in a slow circle to meet the eyes of everyone. "A toast, to the heralds of Immoren's future!"

For a while...no words were had. Sweat rolled down Ridley's face, and once again his smile slightly broke. Just then, a small clap within the crowd was heard. Then another, and another, and another until the hall filled with great applause. The journeymen nodded graciously toward the crowd, finally taking a drink of champagne. As the claps came to a stop, Ridley casually walked toward a wall, a bit of a wobble in his legs. He braced himself against the wall, and let out a series of labored breaths, one hand on his knee to keep him balance.

"Mother of Morrow" he rasped "...never the hell again."