A Sword Without a Hilt: A Song of Ice and Fire/D&D 3.5 Crossover

"It is a matter of honor," he demurred, managing an almost serene smile as they entered the cordoned off chambers where contestants might find solace before battle. "Both for myself and for the honorable opponent I defeated. Were I to falter before the crowd he would lose face." He said the last word in his own tongue and a certain inflection that implied more nuance.

"That word, it means dignity, doesn't it?" He did not fight her attempts to restore his fractured bones and bruised skin with the blessings given by her God, the Forever Serpent who's coils lay heavily upon the dreams of forgotten ages. The Yi Tish man let out a sigh, nodding once. "But he already admitted you were worth fighting to the fullest extent he was able, even if it meant breaking forty bones instead of half a dozen..."

"Still, one must give face. That was praise in its own way, though I believe to give insult would lay lightly upon his shoulders indeed," they replied with a light chuckle and a shake of their head. "How did you come upon your blessings?" He asked, which took her aback, for few men even in Sorcerer's Deep would be so bold as to ask how a Priestess caught in the grip of greater powers drawn directly from the Divine came upon their faith.

Though come to think of it, the practice of her magic itself was discussed with a light heart most often with those who had made it their home, for no other reason than simple practicality, a place where sorcery was simply another trade and one could be castigated for poor craft rather than wickedness of the heart, if indeed they were innocent of no greater crime than being poor of talent.

"I found salvation balanced in the scales in my journey here," she replied simply, thinking on the fear and horror experienced upon a ship haunted by the remains of a fallen god, still with presence enough to cast a curse on those who would lightly weigh it up in offering to those still living. Though the gap between death and torpor was thin indeed, considering the state of her own lord. "He is strange to mortal ways of thinking, but always fair."

"A worthy distinction to make when weighing service," he said with such effortless assurance as to make the simple words high praise, or that's what the blush upon her skin told her.


She quickly deflected with a question of her own, "How did you come upon your own... talents?" Could they be blessings of the flesh, she thought, as mine were of the heart and mind?

A look of sentimental reminiscence crossed the monk's face, though the smile had faded. "A foolish youth I was, led astray from the path I was meant to follow, but with enough understanding to continue back on it, even in days of strife and turmoil. In the mountains of Azhuan, near enough to the province of Jinqi, I learned under a wise man, stooped with his age, but standing at the highest peaks of enlightenment. Some days, I wonder if I ever came upon him in the land of the living, or if as a boy I was drawn into the realm of spirits and came out again as a young man, foolish still, but with great knowledge ill-considered then." The Monk smiled beatifically once more, "But that was in another time and place."


That had the air of avoiding a memory for fear of past mistakes coming upon them again unawares, but the Priestess of Yss did not know how to just say that without possibly causing great offense. She had not erred once when it came to thinking long and hard about the right thing to say and having the will to say it, but a quick tongue was not something she was blessed with. Perhaps why she had come to be chosen in a way. Still, Shiera felt the need to say something to the man who had commiserated despite owing her nothing in truth. "He sounds like a great man."

The Easterner stood, brushing off the memories, and the fight worthy of song, like so much dust. "Indeed. Should we never meet again, may his spirit reach his ancestors with surefooted steps, in this life, or the next." The look in his eye almost seemed to say he would have a longer journey ahead of him, for all of that. "A thousand pardons, Holy One," he bowed to her, causing her to see past his shoulders and turn her gaze upon the man with ashen hair and a hesitant smile upon his lips.

Shiera made her excuses swiftly, resolving to approach the strange Monk again another day.

"You don't seem happy," Criston said, the question hanging silent between the two. Truth be told Ting would not claim to be displeased that the boy had seen past his own demons, ready to confront both them and any other obstacles that manifested in his path. But boldness could be a poison as surely as drink when taken altogether too often or too much at once, for both the mind and for the body.

Though in these hurried days, he would be little troubled by such excess. The very fact that he had seen past that excess all at once, in an almost meditative trance, made clear that such blessings of the body were tied to lessons learned in the fullness of time. After his last battle, he had come upon another revelation hanging in the back of his mind, waiting to be ruminated upon. Evade calamity, and strike surely, and even if the mountains themselves may fall, you will remain untroubled. That stoutness of heart and mind would aid them greatly in the journey ahead, of that Ting was certain.

They watched Denys in the line leading to proctors wearing an Administrator's garb, who would be taking down names for the cooperative event of the Tournament.

"Be on your guard, Ser Knight," Ting replied to the Stormlander. "There are eyes long since used to the lightless depths of the wilds, both in the world of flesh and the world without, and they do not consider often the comfort of men in their fastness of civilization and sophistication."

"Unkindly ones?" The Knight asked sharply, weighing it in mind no differently than considering the height of the fiend or revenant with which to fell. Though his heart is bitter and his resolve a brittle thing, his loyalty is great. One of the things he admired about the Knight, what had made them able to bond both in battle and outside of it, besides shared drinks.

"Who is to say? These eyes could gaze upon an open field and spy one soul which brings them joy, perhaps, and the deaths of thousands around them in war might weigh lightly on their heart. Those used to long ages biding their time in tangled webs of hopes and dreams make the distinction quite impossible to puzzle out, if they would have their own way at least." Ting would not dare to say the Gods themselves had reached out and touched his mind, as that would be as to the height of arrogance, but there was a certain disquieting serendipitous feeling to the circumstances in which he found himself, having defeated a foe who by all rights could well have easily defeated him, were luck and skill not on his side.

But as had been proven before by the very realm in which they found themselves, the dreams of man could be grand things... ones fit for dragons. Who is to say staring into the distance of time and chance is only for those rooted deeply to the ground?

"Even with all I have learned, Criston, I do not enjoy being moved upon a board by another's hand, sight unseen. If answers are later offered, they will be taken with interest."

"And if not?" Criston asked.

"Then let all debts thereby owed be balanced in the scales."