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[NUKE9.13]

"They Will Hear Your Words"

The Swordholder does not seem offended, nodding his assent. He enters, and places his sword on a table.
"I have been told to respect you, so for reasons that should become clear I will not bear my blade before you. But you may inspect it yourself, to confirm the truth of my claim."

((Assuming that Constantine does so))

"I have spoken to several runesmiths, and they infer this sword to be over five hundred years old. They tell me that the runes used are archaic, predating imperial occupation of Nordric. Some they were unable to identify the meaning of. Notice also the empty space near the hilt, where the smith would normally leave his signature runes? What's more, by their reckoning, this sword should not work. The rune-script is too complex- a smith could work on a sword for a decade and not manage to successfully enchant it this way. Yet if you hold it in your hands, can you not feel the power?"

"The reason I am hesitant to hold it myself is due to the nature of the enchantment upon it. See this rune, here? It is the keystone to the entire sword, and it means Truth. Those who witness this blade in the hands of its rightful wielder are... forced to see the Truth. Which can be unpleasant."

[Digital Hellhound]

Constantine drew the blade from its scabbard. The stranger's words flowed past him. In truth, his knowledge of runeblades was basic at best. It was not an art the Knights of old had known themselves, though the Order had made use of several such weapons. All those were now lost to the Scourge. He would see them reclaimed... in time.

He gave the man another appraising look. If this was a forgery, it was a phenomenally skillful one. The runes shone with faint light. The edge of the blade sung with a faint hum when you held your ear to it, like in the tales. There was magic in this weapon. Some treacherous part of his mind told him to claim it for himself, but he refused to even consider it.

He offered the sword back to the stranger.

'I would prefer to see it, even so,' Constantine said, a bit of iron entering his tone. 'By what right are you the rightful wielder, sir? How did you come to possess this blade? What is your name? I am foreigner to these lands, but I confess, I took you for a commoner. A commoner who wields a runeblade... it's something out of a story, so excuse my curiosity.'

[NUKE9.13]

The Swordholder paused for a moment, before taking the sword. As soon as his fingers brushed the grip, it lit up, basking the interior of the tent in a faint blue light.

He Is My Rightful Wielder, spoke the sword, though not in words. Or sounds. Rather, the sentiment just planted itself in one's mind.

The Swordholder raised the blade, his features seeming far more striking than they were mere moments ago.
"I Acquired the sword seven years ago, almost to the day"

Kneel Before Him, came the thought, and a conscious effort had to be made to stop the knee from bending.

"My name is Falsktnafn Svertharmathur."

His Name Is Falsktnafn Svertharmathur, repeated the sword.

"The Sword is mine by divine appointment."

God Gave Me To Him, the sword confirmed, the thought driving away all others.

Falsktnafn sheathed the sword, and a pressure lifted from the room.

"My grandmother was a baron's cousin, but other than that I am of common stock. Which makes my task all the more challenging. There is no way to be subtle about this, so I shall be blunt: an angel has commanded me to take the throne of Nordric."

He pauses for a moment, his face completely serious.

[Digital Hellhound]

The young boy's idealistic heart that had brought Constantine to join the Knights Resplendent as a child - the same heart that had convinced him to venture north in search of some master actually worthy of following - jumped at the bewildering spectacle before him. Divine appointment? He wasn't well-versed in scripture or prophecy, but he was a man of faith, and if prophecies over the crown of Nordric interested him little, it was still a matter of faith. He did not wish to disrespect Ilos and the Flame.

A more seasoned part of his mind advised caution. Greater men than him had been taken in by magic tricks and empty spectacle. It was likely that; he couldn't get his hopes up. Still, it took Constantine a moment to compose himself.

'...I see. I will be blunt, in turn, then. You possess great power, that is for certain, but it is beyond me to say if it is the Sacred Flame of Ilos, or something else entirely. I mean no disrespect.I would be honored, sir, if I could escort you to Grandmaster Pyoraxis, so he may ascertain the truth in your words...'

The words - thoughts, more like - seemed burned into his memory. The man wielding the blade seemed larger, somehow, taller. Magic or fate? The priests would decide.

'You would be King, then. You seek my backing? I brought the Knights here to seek a worthy sovereign to follow. Perhaps you are that man... but you must understand, I am a foreigner, a man of the Empire. I have no lawful rank here, nor a great voice to be heard. I certainly have no intention of fighting anyone for the throne. I am here to serve and to begin anew, nothing more.'

[Iituem]

Helga had returned to gnawing on a chicken bone and drumming the bony fingers of her free hand on the table when one of the serving boys approached her - and had his arm swiftly twisted behind his back by a bodyguard.

"Hm?  Oh, he's fine.  What is it, boy?  If it's not wine or a new king I'll let Orzo here break one of your fingers."

The tearful child muttered his message, trying to stop from screaming.  Helga raised an eyebrow.

"Well, it's not wine but it'll do.  Let the boy go, Orzo."  The silent bodyguard released the child, who caught the coin Helga flipped in his direction with his one good hand and then scurried away.  "Seems there's some young whelp running around with a very fancy sword.  Orzo, go extend the boy an invitation when he's done bothering the clergy.  I'll meet him in one of the private chambers."

Orzo grunted and moved off to wait for the blade-bearer, while his mistress began badgering servants into preparing a private room and meal for her.

When Falsktnafn emerges from his meeting, Orzo - a taciturn, scarred bodyguard - will be waiting to escort him to meet Helga in a private chamber.

[NUKE9.13]

Falsktnafn shook his head.
"I will not ask you to openly support my claim, though you are free to do so. No, all I ask is for you to support my right to speak and make my case, for as it stands, a commoner with a sword is unlikely to be accepted as a candidate- but a commoner with a sword and the word of a Master of knights may yet have a chance."

"If you could introduce me to the Grandmaster, that would be a great help."

[Digital Hellhound]

'...That I can do. You deserve a chance. If anyone tries to bar you from stating your claim, I will speak on your behalf.'

Escort Falsktnafn to Grandmaster Pyoraxis/the highest-ranked priest at the meeting. Don't let him wander off and/or be kidnapped by an evil old lady.

[Roboson]

As expected, Luwald is gently nudged by respectful servants up the stairs to the hall, and is greeted by a deep bow from Mavi at the gates.
"Greetings, honoured Archmage. The hall is directly through and up, and your title and landing both allow you access to the chambers with all our blessings. The seating is not yet filled, thanks to the heroic effort of our men here and the influence of your most holy grandmaster; so it will be our deepest pleasure to show you to where you may be seated with the other members of your cult, or your house as you choose."
"That is of course, unless you were desiring to put forth your claim?"

Host Mavi, it is I who should bow. You are hosting perhaps the most important meeting of men, outside the Cult of Ilos, that has occured in recent history. Your generosity guides this nation into the future. As for seating, put forth a claim I must. My fair and Grand master Pyraxis have led me to make a claim, and so claim I shall. I will gladly take any seat you would have for me, though I hope the kingsmoot should start soon. Otherwise I'd like sit with my fellow cult members for the time being.

[Tack]

Mavi gives a laugh "Whilst I will never hesitate to beam at undeserved praise, I am but a humble servant. The true 'hosts' of this event are naturally Grandmaster Pyraxis and our late King.
No matter how close I come to killing myself with the never-ending duties and ceaseless trials and bellowing harridans.. ahem.. of this event, to accept such generous words would be completely inappropriate, despite their possible appropriateness."
He continues, with a sycophantic grin: "Now, as to the matter of your claim, the moot has been... stagnant, for at least a day now. Some have put forward very tentative claims, but they are mostly just marking the post, in case none of greater renown or lineage come along. If you are to lay your claim, the sooner the better...
Although If I may prey upon your goodwill for a short while longer? I must admit I am dreadfully uneducated in the workings of the clergy. Would you be forced to forfeit your position within the church were you elected by the kingsmoot?"

[Roboson]

Luwald smiled at Mavi. Does a blacksmith stop being a blacksmith when he's drafted as a soldier? Aye and nay my friend. He is still a blacksmith, but for the time being, he's is also a soldier. Likewise, I will be both king and an archmage. My duties to one, compliment my duties to another. Both are in service of Ilos, and it is for that reason that I must make this claim. Iilos requests it, and I would be hard pressed to ignore the will of the divine. Though such an event has not occured recently, and even less often than their happening is the participation of a mage. In truth, only Ilos knows what the future will hold not only for me, but for every man. I put my faith in him and walk forward under his banner. 

[Tack]

Mavi nods carefully. "The devout shall be proud to welcome you Archmage, I'm sure of it. We have positioned the herald just outside the great doors of the hall, and he will be honored to announce you, or bring the hall to attention that you may announce yourself, as you choose.
Unless you had any questions of your own?"

[Roboson]

A herald would be much appreciated. I would be blessed if he would announce me. I do not believe I have any questions host Mavi. Thank you for all you have done here, and my Ilos's light shine on you.

[Tack]

Mavi bows. "And upon you, Archmage"
He waves over a servant to show the Archmage inside before turning his attention resignedly to a small boy cradling one arm, paying little attention to the knight and 'bodyguard' being waved into the hall.

[Iituem]

Orzo approaches Falsktafn as he and Constantine arrive.  The bodyguard steps into the pair's way and glances down at Falsktafn's sword, then meets the man's eyes.

"The Dog Rose wants you.  In there."  He nods over to a side door.

[NUKE9.13]

And the angel continued: "Listen To The Crone"

The Swordholder blinks, then understanding seems to dawn on him and he nods, apologising to Constantine before following Orzo.