09-19-2015, 09:54 PM
With a scowl, Victor von Magnus strode out onto the balcony of his private quarters. Beneath him, the streets of Minas Tirith were rife with life. Up here near the top of the city, the markets were fairly common sights, with many people wearing sacks or handling small carts. The best deals were to be had up here, so on days like today; people were more than willing to go out of their way to secure food and supplies for their families.
This was also the place where most of the provincials came when they visited Minas Tirith to barter their own goods. With the weather as good as it was, Victor could spot numerous orcs, elves, and even a few dwarves (those unaligned with Bruenor) among the crowds. The man enjoyed having his private residences up here, because it reminded him of his old home. His baronial seat had been a majestic town filled with life, color, and vitality. While there were many similarities between Minas Tirith and Eisenhart, the two places were also different enough that the giant, glittering metropolis rarely felt like home. Victor much preferred the countryside, where the people were a little more down-to-earth.
“Good morning, Baron!” The voice was a man named Sebastian, who peddled fruit and vegetables every three days in the nearby market. Victor enjoyed the oranges that the man grew on terraces near the edge of the city. Citrus had been a delicacy in Eisenhart due to issues of climate.
“Hello, Sebastian, I’ll pay your stall a visit a little later,” the broad-shouldered man shouted back as he waved to the merchant.
Turning away from the balcony, Victor von Magnus re-entered his residence and made his way to his office. The last time he had been in Minas Tirith had been a few months ago for one of his roundtables with Aragorn, Thrall, and Xavier. During those discussions, they always tried to talk about the most divisive issue in the Kingdom… ethnic violence.
Minas Tirith was something of a cultural mecca, but once you got more than twenty miles beyond the city limits, Camelot became a verse filled with unfounded prejudice. While it often just simmered, there were more than a few occasions where bottled hatreds exploded into violence. Hell, there were entire settlements out in Camelot that seemed almost founded on hatred. Victor recalled an uncomfortable discussion with the ‘monarch’ in charge of Berry Blitzkrieg. The woman, who had somehow managed to amass enough mindless, spineless followers to claim herself a princess, was so ignorant that she didn’t even realize that she was everything that was wrong with Camelot.
“You get a lot of summons,” the female voice came from the man’s ‘secretary.’ In reality, she was more of an assistant and a maid who kept his papers in order and his home from falling into disrepair when he went off on his trips to the fringes of the verse.
“Anything good, Melanie?” Victor asked as he glanced at the signatures on the papers.
“Not much,” the woman replied as she poked her head in from the adjacent room. “You’ve received a summons to the Colosseum. They’re holding another tournament, and they’d like for you to be the patron.”
Victor chewed on his bottom lip for a few moments. “Another tournament? Aren’t the people there sick of massacring all those monsters?”
“Something different,” Melanie shot back. “They’re trying to get an entire bracket of primes. It’ll be less free-for-all and more classic tournament.” The young woman leaned in and grinned at her employer. “They clearly want a classy man to serve as the patron.”
The man grinned and shook his head. He never knew why she continued to flirt with him, when he had no real intention of romance. Victor von Magnus had already met his soulmate, and she had been dead for nearly a decade. He had met many pleasant women, but none of them could ever match Abigail or the fire she had lit inside of him all those years ago. “If anything, it would give me a nice reprieve from actual work.”
Melanie smiled. She had worked for a few years with ‘the Baron,’ and she knew that he was someone who tended to dive head-first into work. It made her happy to see him take an opportunity to do something with a little less gravitas. “Do you want me to draft a response?”
“Yes…” Victor replied as he slipped a few of the papers into a folder for later review. “Tell them I’ll be more than happy to give a few speeches and watch a few battles… just none of that normal tripe they usually put on. If this is to be primes and primes alone, I’ll demand a degree of valor and dignity.”
“Of course,” Melanie repled with a small smile as Victor handed her the original letter from the Colosseum folk. “What will you do with the rest of your day?” She asked.
“Oh, you know,” Victor muttered as he found his small bag of coins. “Sebastian’s oranges are in season now… can’t miss those,” he smiled as he headed for the door.
This was also the place where most of the provincials came when they visited Minas Tirith to barter their own goods. With the weather as good as it was, Victor could spot numerous orcs, elves, and even a few dwarves (those unaligned with Bruenor) among the crowds. The man enjoyed having his private residences up here, because it reminded him of his old home. His baronial seat had been a majestic town filled with life, color, and vitality. While there were many similarities between Minas Tirith and Eisenhart, the two places were also different enough that the giant, glittering metropolis rarely felt like home. Victor much preferred the countryside, where the people were a little more down-to-earth.
“Good morning, Baron!” The voice was a man named Sebastian, who peddled fruit and vegetables every three days in the nearby market. Victor enjoyed the oranges that the man grew on terraces near the edge of the city. Citrus had been a delicacy in Eisenhart due to issues of climate.
“Hello, Sebastian, I’ll pay your stall a visit a little later,” the broad-shouldered man shouted back as he waved to the merchant.
Turning away from the balcony, Victor von Magnus re-entered his residence and made his way to his office. The last time he had been in Minas Tirith had been a few months ago for one of his roundtables with Aragorn, Thrall, and Xavier. During those discussions, they always tried to talk about the most divisive issue in the Kingdom… ethnic violence.
Minas Tirith was something of a cultural mecca, but once you got more than twenty miles beyond the city limits, Camelot became a verse filled with unfounded prejudice. While it often just simmered, there were more than a few occasions where bottled hatreds exploded into violence. Hell, there were entire settlements out in Camelot that seemed almost founded on hatred. Victor recalled an uncomfortable discussion with the ‘monarch’ in charge of Berry Blitzkrieg. The woman, who had somehow managed to amass enough mindless, spineless followers to claim herself a princess, was so ignorant that she didn’t even realize that she was everything that was wrong with Camelot.
“You get a lot of summons,” the female voice came from the man’s ‘secretary.’ In reality, she was more of an assistant and a maid who kept his papers in order and his home from falling into disrepair when he went off on his trips to the fringes of the verse.
“Anything good, Melanie?” Victor asked as he glanced at the signatures on the papers.
“Not much,” the woman replied as she poked her head in from the adjacent room. “You’ve received a summons to the Colosseum. They’re holding another tournament, and they’d like for you to be the patron.”
Victor chewed on his bottom lip for a few moments. “Another tournament? Aren’t the people there sick of massacring all those monsters?”
“Something different,” Melanie shot back. “They’re trying to get an entire bracket of primes. It’ll be less free-for-all and more classic tournament.” The young woman leaned in and grinned at her employer. “They clearly want a classy man to serve as the patron.”
The man grinned and shook his head. He never knew why she continued to flirt with him, when he had no real intention of romance. Victor von Magnus had already met his soulmate, and she had been dead for nearly a decade. He had met many pleasant women, but none of them could ever match Abigail or the fire she had lit inside of him all those years ago. “If anything, it would give me a nice reprieve from actual work.”
Melanie smiled. She had worked for a few years with ‘the Baron,’ and she knew that he was someone who tended to dive head-first into work. It made her happy to see him take an opportunity to do something with a little less gravitas. “Do you want me to draft a response?”
“Yes…” Victor replied as he slipped a few of the papers into a folder for later review. “Tell them I’ll be more than happy to give a few speeches and watch a few battles… just none of that normal tripe they usually put on. If this is to be primes and primes alone, I’ll demand a degree of valor and dignity.”
“Of course,” Melanie repled with a small smile as Victor handed her the original letter from the Colosseum folk. “What will you do with the rest of your day?” She asked.
“Oh, you know,” Victor muttered as he found his small bag of coins. “Sebastian’s oranges are in season now… can’t miss those,” he smiled as he headed for the door.