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Iuri's Place
Tue Jan 9, 2007 21:16
203.28.173.21 (XFF: 192.168.1.3)

Pigarin waved a solemn goodbye to his friend, before falling in line behind the much larger Asha’man Anin. Dyson had looked defeated upon Pigarin’s exit, but also strangely motivated; he had always reacted well to criticism. No doubt, he would spend the remainder of his afternoon practicing sword forms, perfecting his technique, and ultimately becoming better at his art. Pigarin wished he could respond that way, turn everything around for the better, but that was not really something he had ever mastered. Even now, faced with the prospect of perhaps just an hour with his supposed mentor, and he could only see the bad in it, only see how much he didn’t want to be there. At that moment, he almost hated Dyson…almost.

“So, out of the tracks, which do you think will suit you best?” questioned Anin, returning Pigarin’s thoughts to the present. The answer was simple enough, for he knew exactly where he would fit in. The noble life came with a very well rounded education; he had learnt to read and write, he had studied politics and had mastered arts of speech and manipulation. There could be none better aligned with the ambassador track than one of the Cairhienin nobility.

“Ambassador track seems interesting…” Pigarin mumbled in response. Despite his surety of choice, he couldn’t help but let the intimidation he felt creep into his voice. Clearly, by the glare he received from Anin, the Asha’man had keenly taken note of his wavering tone. Pigarin had noticed right from his very first encounter with the taller man that he only respected strength and conviction, two qualities Pigarin lacked completely. However, that hadn’t stopped Anin from demanding them, and today; once again, he stared at his new student, silently requesting an example of the traits.

“Sir, I am interested in the ambassador track,” Pigarin iterated once again. His voice was much surer this time, copied in style from his own father, Kaindral Maenred. No one had really liked that man very much, but his commanding words and stunning charisma ensured that every person around him would listen. Perhaps, soon, Pigarin would be able to demand such respect though he doubted that Anin would have agreed.

“Better,” was all he said.

The pair approached the administration sector with a fast pace, and there, it appeared, was where he would find the Black Tower style ambassadors. Anin led Pigarin to one of smaller blocks, to what Pigarin figured was an office. When led inside, his assumption was proven to be quite correct; for they appeared very similar to those clerical buildings he had seen way back home in Cairhien. These, however, lacked the stark cleanliness and organization that those of his home country took pride in. Of course, Pigarin could not really have expected any better; this was an army base after all.

At one of the desks sat a lonely Asha’man, who, so absorbed in his work, did not even notice the arrival of visitors. Anyone who had met Anin would know that he hated being ignored, for, more often than not, attention was always focused on this deadly man of the black. Only be clearing his throat loudly and tapping of the nearby wall was he able to draw the eyes of the scrawny ambassador.

“I’m sorry!” he man exclaimed, “I didn’t realize anyone had arrived.” The Asha’man, now standing, could be no taller than Pigarin, and had dark eyes to match his black hair. It seemed, if only by stature, and by his accent of course, that this man was also of Cairhienin blood. “I am called Iuri Lernard, and I’m an Ambassador of the State, how can I help you today?” he asked quizzically, observing Pigarin with a stringent gaze. The man, to first impression, seemed pleasant enough, perhaps even a little too kind for a military trained individual. However, it was the eyes the really told it all, the ambitious and death wrought eyes. This man was dangerous, and one that would take all advantages before him. In Pigarin’s mind, he found it strange that the man was secluded in a tiny office, rather than centered in a position of leadership. Perhaps that too was part of the Great Game, or maybe, he simply liked what he did.

“This is Soldier Pigarin Maenred, and he is somewhat interested in your track,” returned Anin using a very matter-of-fact tone. Asha’man Iuri’s eyes lit up; obviously it was part of this man’s responsibilities to pick up as many new recruits as he could. Pigarin was going to be his next victim, it seemed.

“Excellent, well, perhaps you can give us some time to chat together, yes? Good,” Iuri instructed with a smile, ushering the surprised mentor style Asha’man from the room. Pigarin was quite stunned, for he had not thought it possible to off put the untouchable Asha’man Anin. He had just been corrected.

Iuri, upon returning to his desk, insisted Pigarin take the lone chair in front of the desk. As commanded, Pigarin lowered himself carefully into the seat, watching and waiting, reflecting Iuri’s own attitude. It was dangerous to appear too vulnerable, and already simply by being a lower rank, Pigarin was on the lower end. Caution was always the best policy.

“Well, Maenred was it? That could only be a Cairhienin name, in fact, I’m sure I have heard of it. You’re from quite a powerful House if I remember its name,” complimented Iuri. Pigarin smiled politely, he could not return the comment, for he had never heard of House Lernard. That wasn’t to say it didn’t exist, there were hundreds of houses within the city of Cairhien, though it did indicate that it was a smaller house lacking in power and influence. “Fortunately, as I too am from Cairhien, I am well aware of the training, and, shall we say, expertise you will have picked up during your youth. Indeed, a perfect candidate for our ambassadorial program.”

Pigarin grinned widely, letting his pride run rampant across his face. Here, for the first time since before his tenth name day, someone was telling him that he fit in, that he was actually suited to something. That implied skills, and talent, and predisposition, things he had never really thought to have, or at least, not in the same capacity that others did.

“Now, firstly, before we decide anything, I am required to tell you a little about what we, as ambassadors, do for the Black Tower. We exist as the equivalent of the Grey Ajah within the White Tower. If you are unfamiliar with that term, it simply implies one particular group of Aes Sedai, and the Grey are responsible for negotiation and laying ties from the White Tower to the nations around the world. That is what we also try to do. Ambassadors are presently located across all nations, advising rulers, infiltrating systems, and overall spreading the influence and power of the Black Tower. This is done all in attempt to be prepared for the Last Battle, to help stop civil war, and war with each other. Once we find this peace, we can then unite and proceed to battle against the real threat, the Shadow, the Dark One and his vast armies.”

A noble purpose indeed, and something Pigarin Maenred could surely commit too. It was quite something to find one’s place within a whole, and it was much easier and far less painless that he had first envisioned.

Though sometimes, our purpose and position is not always what we first expect.

  • No PlaceSoldier Pigarin, Sat Jan 6 19:31
    Clack, clack, clack! The wooden lathes made sharp, loud noises when they collided, and in their quick succession, Pigarin’s ears were ringing. Sweat beaded his forehead, and his arms ached, screaming ... more
    • Iuri's Place — Soldier Pigarin, Tue Jan 9 21:16
      • Hanle's PlaceSoldier Pigarin, Wed Jan 10 21:17
        Pigarin could find nothing else to describe how he felt in his new training position, he was bored! Iuri, after giving him quite the lecture on the importance of clean hands when working, had left... more
        • Another PlaceSoldier Pigarin, Wed Jan 10 21:20
          After three days, Pigarin was quite ready to toss his body from the battlements. Each day that had followed, he had woken early for morning exercises, and then spent the day either exhausting himself ... more
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