Snippet #2643481

Tramping angrily through the streets of the city, Roger tried not to look at the prisoner. Her jibes got under his skin and it was all he could do to stop himself beheading her in the street. Hearing her say they were very much alike he shot a glare in her direction, growling slightly. "We are nothing alike you piece of dishonourable filth." Shoving her hard in the shoulder blades he urged her on towards the castle, it's towers looming over the buildings and flags flying in the wind.

Crossing the drawbridge under the watchful eyes of armed guards he gladly handed her over to another group, he himself trudging up a great stone staircase to the throne room. Pushing open the great oak doors, Roger was greeted with the sight of the long chamber resplendent in gold and red. Pennants hung from the ceiling, and the tables were covered in silver and gold. The throne itself now sat on a raised dais, its back and arms showing intricate carvings of mythical beasts and knights of yore. All this decadence made him scowl deeper, as Roger thumped up the center of the hall towards the throne. Bursting from a door behind the throne came the king. Fat, and rather short, the king waddled around the the front of the throne, his red face lighting up when he saw Roger waiting there. "Ah lord Talbot", he wheezed. "Not too tired from your journey I hope?" Hardly waiting for an answer the king squeeled excitedly. "You got her? You found her after all this time?" Lord Roger nodded tiredly.

"She was causing trouble in one of the mining camps. The warden was glad to get rid of her."

"Good! Good Talbot. You know how essential she is for this little tournament." Roger rolled his eyes, gripping the pommel of his sword in frustration. "Now look here Talbot, you are the captain of my guards, my most trusted subject."

"You honour me sire." Roger bowed a little, dreading what was coming next.

"That is why I want you to oversee the tournament." The king smiled, clapping his fat hands together as Roger glared daggers at him, twitching slightly. "Well Talbot? Aren't you going to thank me?"

"Sire...", Roger gritted his teeth. "Wouldn't it be better to have someone with experience running a tournament? I am a simple soldier."

"Precisely! You can spot the tricks of this little lot, and deal with them accordingly. Anyhow I will not take 'no' for an answer. You WILL oversee the games."

"Very well sire." Roger sighed in resignation. There was no arguing with a king who had been spoiled his entire life.


A little later in the day, Roger walked to the room where the assassin had been taken, finding her unbound and dressed as a noblewoman. A look of pure malice washed over his face as he saw her, his hands folding into fists, the knuckles cracking loudly. The way she held her ample figure, and batted her eyelashes was an obvious attempt at mystifying him, though his hatred of her quickly snuffed it out. "You may try to win this, scum. But rest assured, I will do everything in my power to ensure that you don't. You have my word on that." Fixing her with another steely glare, he beckoned and stormed out of the room, his cloak billowing as he led the way back to the throne room, from which the sound of trumpets and loud voices could he heard.