Disclaimer: All prior disclaimers apply to this one as well.
Author's Notes: I apologize in advance to Trowa supporters for making him quite out of character (but I needed to borrow him for one of my favorite scenes). But this is done in good humor (I hope). I have provided for a more humane treatment of Trowa and the others in my fanfiction "Celestial Covenant" (a much more serious fanfiction set in a fantasy realm). I really don't have anything against the poor fellow.
The Tale of Sir Quatre
A tall young man was sitting quietly at the top of a tower in a castle east of the desert. The young man's face and one eye was covered by a long, well-kept bang that seemed to have a mind of its own. The only visible eye stared out the window with a penetrating gaze.
A larger, older man, wearing a circus ringmaster's outfit stood next to him.
"Trowa," the older man told the youth, "one day, all of this land will be yours!"
Trowa looked up at the older man. "Really, Ringmaster? Including the curtains?"
"No, uh...not the curtains. Those are borrowed. But look yonder, young Trowa! All that you can see, stretched out over the hills and valleys of this land. This will eventually be your kingdom, lad," the Ringmaster said expansively.
"But...I don't want any of that," Trowa protested in a soft voice. "I want the curtains and the pet lions."
The Ringmaster took in a deep breath.
"Listen, lad, I built this kingdom up from nothing. When I started here, there was just a swamp and a travelling circus here. Other kings said I was daft to build a circus in a castle on a swamp. But I built it all the same, just to show'em. The first one sank into the swamp. So I built a second one. But that too sank into the swamp. I built a third one, but that one burned down, fell over, and then sank into the swamp. But the fourth one...that one stayed up. And that's what you're going to get lad. The strongest castle with a built-in circus around!"
Trowa shook his head. "I don't want any of that."
"What would you rather have?" the Ringmaster asked in an aggravated voice.
Trowa picked up a flute and began playing a lovely musical tune.
"Stop that! Stop that! You're not going to play a bloody song while I'm here. Now listen, lad. In twenty minutes, you're getting married to a girl whose father owns the biggest tracts of open land in all of Europe!" the Ringmaster told him with enthusiasm.
Trowa looked up at him with sad eyes (or at least one sad eye).
"But...I don't want land," Trowa said in a faint voice.
"Listen, Trowa, we live in a bloody swamp! We need all the land we can get!" the Ringmaster said.
"But...I don't like her," Trowa stated quietly.
The Ringmaster's eyes bulged out in shock. "Don't like her? What's wrong with her? She's beautiful! She's rich! She's got huge..."
Trowa looked up expectantly at the Ringmaster.
"...tracts of land!" the Ringmaster finished, flailing his arms to emphasize his point.
Trowa's eyes fell back down to the ground.
"I know, Ringmaster. But I want to marry one who can accompany me in music!" Trowa picked up his flute and began playing again.
"Cut that out! Cut that out! Look, you're marrying Sylvia Noventa, so you'd better get used to the idea!" the Ringmaster roared. He turned around and stomped out of the room, slamming the door behind him.
Trowa frowned. He was not going to sit around complacently and let his father marry him off to some strange girl. His mind worked hard to find some way out of this marriage. A thought struck him. He sat down on at a table and quickly grabbed a sheet of parchment. Trowa scribbled a few careful thoughts onto the parchment. He then looked around his room.
After searching for a few minutes, he found a long dagger that his adoptive sister Catherine had given to him for his birthday. He tied the parchment onto the dagger and went to the window. With all his might, he threw the dagger out the window and hoped his prayers would be answered.
A hundred yards away, Sir Quatre and his loyal Maguanac Rashid were riding down a small path. Unlike Queen Relena, Quatre had decided that travelling on horseback was quicker than walking on foot with coconuts. Suddenly, there was a loud whistling sound and a dagger buried itself into Rashid's side.
Rashid's eyes widened in surprise. But more importantly, he pulled off the parchment from the dagger. The parchment was addressed to "Any Brave Knight." Ignoring his wound, Rashid quickly tried to hand the parchment to his master Quatre.
"Message for you, Master Quatre," Rashid told his master. When he realized that his Master could not hear him, he yanked out the cloth that Sir Duo had earlier stuffed into Quatre's ears. Rashid repeated himself, "Message for you, Master Quatre."
Quatre turned to look at Rashid.
"Well taken, Rashid," Quatre approved as he took the parchment. He peered quizzically at Rashid, who was clutching his side. "Are you all right Rashid?"
"I am fine. Thank you, Master Quatre," Rashid said, bowing in pain. "What does your letter say?"
Quatre unfurled the parchment and began to read out loud: "To any Brave Knight who finds this note - I have been imprisoned by my father who wishes me to marry against my will. Please come and rescue me. I am in the Tall Tower of Swamp Castle."
Quatre's baby blue eyes widened in realization. "At last! A call! A cry of distress! This could be the sign that leads us to the Holy Grail! Brave, brave Rashid, you shall not have died in vain!"
"Err...Master Quatre, I'm not quite dead, yet," Rashid corrected his master in a gentle tone.
Quatre stared at Rashid. "Well, you shall not have been mortally wounded in vain!"
"I think...I...could...could...pull through, Master Quatre," Rashid informed him, shuddering in pain.
"Oh, I see," Quatre observed. "Well, then, I must be off to rescue to damsel in distress."
"Actually, Master Quatre, I think I'm all right. May I come with you...?"
"No, no, sweet Rashid! Stay here! I will send help as soon as I have accomplished a daring and heroic rescue in my own particular..." Quatre hesitated, searching for the right word.
"Idiom, Master Quatre?" Rashid suggested helpfully.
"Idiom!" agreed Quatre. "Farewell, sweet Rashid!"
Rashid groaned in pain and fell over. "I'll, um...just stay here, then. Shall I, Master Quatre? Yes, I think that may be for the best."
Quatre spurred his white stallion onwards towards the nearby castle, waving at his loyal servant as he rode off.
Quatre came up to the gate where two guards stood at either side.
"Please forgive me," Quatre said as he pulled out a large sword and struck both of the men down. He continued riding through the gates until he encountered a large reception. He frowned. The bizarre ceremony more closely resembled a large circus than anything else. Various clowns were running wild and there was a large trapeze set overhead. But he still realized that this must be the feast to celebrate the vile, forced marriage. With anger in his eyes, he rode his horse through the courtyard.
He struck wildly at those nearby, his eyes having lost any semblance of sanity. Quatre cried out and swiftly kicked a blond girl to his left and continued to hack away through the crowd. The brave knight pushed his way valiantly through the crowd until he reached the tallest tower.
"This must be the Tall Tower!" Quatre crowed triumphantly.
The blond knight dashed up the stairs until he encountered a large door being guarded by two armed men. After quickly dispatching the two men, he kicked open the door.
Quatre strode into the room.
"O' fair one, behold your humble servant, Sir Quatre. I have come to take you..." Quatre stopped mid-sentence. He looked at Trowa, sitting quietly in the corner. "Oh, I'm terribly sorry, I must have the wrong room."
Trowa's eyes lit up and he clasped his hands together.
"You got my note!" Trowa enthused with uncharacteristic glee.
Quatre looked at the parchment he had shoved into his belt. He pulled it out sheepishly.
"Uh, well, I...I got a note," Quatre admitted.
"You've come to rescue me, little one!" Trowa said happily.
"Er...well...no. You see, I hadn't realized..." Quatre began.
"I knew someone would. I knew that somewhere...over the rainbow..." Trowa continued, ignoring Quatre entirely. He stopped for a moment and looked intently at Quatre. "Do you play any musical instruments?"
"Umm...the violin," Quatre answered in confusion.
"You are my knight in shining armor!" Trowa cried out in joy.
Before Quatre could respond, the Ringmaster burst into the room.
"Who the hell are you?!" demanded the Ringmaster.
"I'm Trowa," Trowa replied simply.
"Not you," snapped the Ringmaster. He jabbed a finger at Quatre's chest. "This crazed lunatic!"
Quatre began to feel his cheeks flush as the situation was unfortunately becoming more and more clear.
"Uh...I am Sir Quatre," the blond knight said.
"He's come to rescue me," Trowa added with a smile.
"Uhh...well, let's not jump to any conclusions," Quatre mumbled.
The Ringmaster furrowed his brow.
"Did you kill all those guards?" he asked angrily.
"Uhh...Oh yes...sorry about that..." Quatre said nervously.
"They cost fifty pounds each!" the Ringmaster yelled angrily.
Trowa quickly took Quatre's arm and whispered into his ear, "Don't be afraid of him, Sir Quatre. I've got a rope all ready!" Trowa gestured at the rope that was hanging out the window and secured against the bedpost.
"You killed eight wedding guests already," the Ringmaster accused Quatre.
"Well, uh...you see...the thing is...I thought your son was a lady in distress," Quatre stated.
"I can understand that," the Ringmaster agreed. "But you killed the bride's father! Lord Noventa!"
"But I really didn't mean to..." Quatre started to speak.
"Didn't mean to?!" the Ringmaster exclaimed in an incredulous voice. "You put your damn sword through his head!"
"Oh dear," Quatre said in an ashamed tone of voice. "Is he all right?"
"Of course not! You even kicked the bride, Sylvia Noventa, in the chest!" the Ringmaster continued to yell.
"Well, you see...I can explain. I was riding east from the desert, on a quest for Queen Relena of the Sanq Kingdom, when I got this note..."
"Queen Relena? The Sanq Kingdom?" the Ringmaster interrupted quickly. "Are you one of her knights?"
"Hurry, Sir Quatre!" Trowa urged, waving the rope in front of Quatre's face. Quatre batted the rope away.
"Yes, I am one of her knights," Quatre answered.
"Hmm...Queen Relena...the Sanq Kingdom," the Ringmaster mused. "The Sanq Kingdom is a very good pig kingdom."
"Uh, really?" Quatre was becoming more and more confused.
The Ringmaster's eyes narrowed and it was clear where Trowa's had gotten his plotting mind from.
"Come with me and have a drink," the Ringmaster offered, his voice having changed entirely. His broad smile and opening arms welcomed Quatre.
"Well, uhh...that's awfully nice of you..." Quatre said.
"Sir Quatre, are you married?" the Ringmaster asked very casually. He swept his arms around Quatre, and in the process knocked Trowa out the window.
They both heard a loud splash.
"What was that?" Quatre asked, somewhat alarmed.
The Ringmaster shrugged. "Pay no heed. Come down with me and let's have a toast."
The Ringmaster guided Quatre down the stairs and through the halls. Several people were weeping at the losses of loved ones from Quatre's attack. The Ringmaster seemed completely oblivious to the entire scene. Instead, he was gesturing at the large hall leading to the open courtyard.
"Well, this is the main hall. We're going to have all this knocked down through and made into one big living room. I've even got the permits for an add-on," the Ringmaster told him.
"There he is!" screeched one of the guests, pointing out the blond knight. "He killed my brother!"
The guests began to scream and panic. Several were picking up butter knives and any other culinary instrument to defend themselves against the crazed blond knight.
The Ringmaster sighed. "Oh, bloody hell!"
He jumped up onto the banquet table and looked at the carnage before him.
"Hold! Please! Hold! This is Sir Quatre from Queen Relena's Court. A very brave and influential knight. And my very special guest here today!" the Ringmaster announced. "This is supposed to be a happy occasion! Let's not bicker and argue about who killed who...or who has weapons of mass destruction! We are here today to witness the union of two young people in the joyful bond of the holy wedlock. Unfortunately, one of them, my adoptive son, Trowa, has just fallen to his death."
The guests murmured in confusion. Even Quatre was surprised by the statement. He looked around nervously.
"But I don't want to think I've lost a son...so much as...I have gained a daughter!" the Ringmaster proclaimed.
The crowd applauded appreciatively. After all, they had come to watch sentimental dribble.
"For since the tragic death of her father..." the Ringmaster continued.
"I'm not quite dead!" coughed Lord Noventa, an elderly man dressed in an elaborate uniform. He sprawled on the table next to the Ringmaster's foot. There was a large wound to his head.
"Since the near fatal wounding of her father..." the Ringmaster corrected himself.
"I'm feeling better!" Lord Noventa pointed out as he was slowly pulling himself up.
The Ringmaster kicked Lord Noventa back down. He reached over and grasped a nearby sword.
"For, since her own father...who when he seemed about to recover...suddenly felt..." the Ringmaster paused dramatically and drove the sword into Lord Noventa for further emphasis, "...the icy hand of death upon him."
"Oh dear, look's like he has died," one of the guests observed.
"And I want his only daughter, Sylvia Noventa, to look upon me as her own father...in a very real and legally binding sense," the Ringmaster added. "Sir Quatre has graciously agreed to become my son-in-law, and marry my daughter Sylvia. And I feel sure that the closing of this deal...I...uhhh...mean the marital union between Sylvia and the brave, but very, very dangerous, Sir Quatre..."
Quatre looked around nervously. He looked at the young woman he presumed was Sylvia Noventa. Indeed, he did remember kicking her rather sharply in the chest. He also remembered stabbing her father in the head. He was also quite aware of the fact that she was fingering a very dangerous looking butter knife. Quatre yelped, "I think I shall be departing now!"
"No...wait!" called out the Ringmaster, grasping at Quatre. But the young warrior easily evaded his grasp.
The blond knight jumped off the table and onto his horse, which was grazing conveniently on a nearby salad. Quatre quickly drove his heels into the stallion and rode off, making sure the horse ran over Sylvia Noventa as a cautionary measure.
When the young blond man came out of the gates, he reigned in his horse and was breathing heavily.
"Quite frightening, isn't it?" a voice asked.
Quatre cried out in pain and doubled over upon hearing the word 'it'! After he recovered, Quatre looked over to his side to see the young Trowa standing in the damp castle moat.
Quatre nodded. "I don't think I am ready to marry," he admitted.
Trowa's eyes gleamed with happiness. "Can I come with you, Sir Quatre?"
Quatre nodded his agreement. "Just don't say that two letter word that begins with an 'i' and ends with a 't'!" he told Trowa.
Trowa shrugged. Then, the tall, young man ran at the horse and somersaulted miraculously into the air and landed neatly behind Quatre. He pulled his arms tightly around Quatre's waist.
"Let's go, my knight in shining armor," Trowa said with a grin. "By the way...can I bring my pet lions along?"
Author's Notes: I apologize in advance to Trowa supporters for making him quite out of character (but I needed to borrow him for one of my favorite scenes). But this is done in good humor (I hope). I have provided for a more humane treatment of Trowa and the others in my fanfiction "Celestial Covenant" (a much more serious fanfiction set in a fantasy realm). I really don't have anything against the poor fellow.
The Tale of Sir Quatre
A tall young man was sitting quietly at the top of a tower in a castle east of the desert. The young man's face and one eye was covered by a long, well-kept bang that seemed to have a mind of its own. The only visible eye stared out the window with a penetrating gaze.
A larger, older man, wearing a circus ringmaster's outfit stood next to him.
"Trowa," the older man told the youth, "one day, all of this land will be yours!"
Trowa looked up at the older man. "Really, Ringmaster? Including the curtains?"
"No, uh...not the curtains. Those are borrowed. But look yonder, young Trowa! All that you can see, stretched out over the hills and valleys of this land. This will eventually be your kingdom, lad," the Ringmaster said expansively.
"But...I don't want any of that," Trowa protested in a soft voice. "I want the curtains and the pet lions."
The Ringmaster took in a deep breath.
"Listen, lad, I built this kingdom up from nothing. When I started here, there was just a swamp and a travelling circus here. Other kings said I was daft to build a circus in a castle on a swamp. But I built it all the same, just to show'em. The first one sank into the swamp. So I built a second one. But that too sank into the swamp. I built a third one, but that one burned down, fell over, and then sank into the swamp. But the fourth one...that one stayed up. And that's what you're going to get lad. The strongest castle with a built-in circus around!"
Trowa shook his head. "I don't want any of that."
"What would you rather have?" the Ringmaster asked in an aggravated voice.
Trowa picked up a flute and began playing a lovely musical tune.
"Stop that! Stop that! You're not going to play a bloody song while I'm here. Now listen, lad. In twenty minutes, you're getting married to a girl whose father owns the biggest tracts of open land in all of Europe!" the Ringmaster told him with enthusiasm.
Trowa looked up at him with sad eyes (or at least one sad eye).
"But...I don't want land," Trowa said in a faint voice.
"Listen, Trowa, we live in a bloody swamp! We need all the land we can get!" the Ringmaster said.
"But...I don't like her," Trowa stated quietly.
The Ringmaster's eyes bulged out in shock. "Don't like her? What's wrong with her? She's beautiful! She's rich! She's got huge..."
Trowa looked up expectantly at the Ringmaster.
"...tracts of land!" the Ringmaster finished, flailing his arms to emphasize his point.
Trowa's eyes fell back down to the ground.
"I know, Ringmaster. But I want to marry one who can accompany me in music!" Trowa picked up his flute and began playing again.
"Cut that out! Cut that out! Look, you're marrying Sylvia Noventa, so you'd better get used to the idea!" the Ringmaster roared. He turned around and stomped out of the room, slamming the door behind him.
Trowa frowned. He was not going to sit around complacently and let his father marry him off to some strange girl. His mind worked hard to find some way out of this marriage. A thought struck him. He sat down on at a table and quickly grabbed a sheet of parchment. Trowa scribbled a few careful thoughts onto the parchment. He then looked around his room.
After searching for a few minutes, he found a long dagger that his adoptive sister Catherine had given to him for his birthday. He tied the parchment onto the dagger and went to the window. With all his might, he threw the dagger out the window and hoped his prayers would be answered.
A hundred yards away, Sir Quatre and his loyal Maguanac Rashid were riding down a small path. Unlike Queen Relena, Quatre had decided that travelling on horseback was quicker than walking on foot with coconuts. Suddenly, there was a loud whistling sound and a dagger buried itself into Rashid's side.
Rashid's eyes widened in surprise. But more importantly, he pulled off the parchment from the dagger. The parchment was addressed to "Any Brave Knight." Ignoring his wound, Rashid quickly tried to hand the parchment to his master Quatre.
"Message for you, Master Quatre," Rashid told his master. When he realized that his Master could not hear him, he yanked out the cloth that Sir Duo had earlier stuffed into Quatre's ears. Rashid repeated himself, "Message for you, Master Quatre."
Quatre turned to look at Rashid.
"Well taken, Rashid," Quatre approved as he took the parchment. He peered quizzically at Rashid, who was clutching his side. "Are you all right Rashid?"
"I am fine. Thank you, Master Quatre," Rashid said, bowing in pain. "What does your letter say?"
Quatre unfurled the parchment and began to read out loud: "To any Brave Knight who finds this note - I have been imprisoned by my father who wishes me to marry against my will. Please come and rescue me. I am in the Tall Tower of Swamp Castle."
Quatre's baby blue eyes widened in realization. "At last! A call! A cry of distress! This could be the sign that leads us to the Holy Grail! Brave, brave Rashid, you shall not have died in vain!"
"Err...Master Quatre, I'm not quite dead, yet," Rashid corrected his master in a gentle tone.
Quatre stared at Rashid. "Well, you shall not have been mortally wounded in vain!"
"I think...I...could...could...pull through, Master Quatre," Rashid informed him, shuddering in pain.
"Oh, I see," Quatre observed. "Well, then, I must be off to rescue to damsel in distress."
"Actually, Master Quatre, I think I'm all right. May I come with you...?"
"No, no, sweet Rashid! Stay here! I will send help as soon as I have accomplished a daring and heroic rescue in my own particular..." Quatre hesitated, searching for the right word.
"Idiom, Master Quatre?" Rashid suggested helpfully.
"Idiom!" agreed Quatre. "Farewell, sweet Rashid!"
Rashid groaned in pain and fell over. "I'll, um...just stay here, then. Shall I, Master Quatre? Yes, I think that may be for the best."
Quatre spurred his white stallion onwards towards the nearby castle, waving at his loyal servant as he rode off.
Quatre came up to the gate where two guards stood at either side.
"Please forgive me," Quatre said as he pulled out a large sword and struck both of the men down. He continued riding through the gates until he encountered a large reception. He frowned. The bizarre ceremony more closely resembled a large circus than anything else. Various clowns were running wild and there was a large trapeze set overhead. But he still realized that this must be the feast to celebrate the vile, forced marriage. With anger in his eyes, he rode his horse through the courtyard.
He struck wildly at those nearby, his eyes having lost any semblance of sanity. Quatre cried out and swiftly kicked a blond girl to his left and continued to hack away through the crowd. The brave knight pushed his way valiantly through the crowd until he reached the tallest tower.
"This must be the Tall Tower!" Quatre crowed triumphantly.
The blond knight dashed up the stairs until he encountered a large door being guarded by two armed men. After quickly dispatching the two men, he kicked open the door.
Quatre strode into the room.
"O' fair one, behold your humble servant, Sir Quatre. I have come to take you..." Quatre stopped mid-sentence. He looked at Trowa, sitting quietly in the corner. "Oh, I'm terribly sorry, I must have the wrong room."
Trowa's eyes lit up and he clasped his hands together.
"You got my note!" Trowa enthused with uncharacteristic glee.
Quatre looked at the parchment he had shoved into his belt. He pulled it out sheepishly.
"Uh, well, I...I got a note," Quatre admitted.
"You've come to rescue me, little one!" Trowa said happily.
"Er...well...no. You see, I hadn't realized..." Quatre began.
"I knew someone would. I knew that somewhere...over the rainbow..." Trowa continued, ignoring Quatre entirely. He stopped for a moment and looked intently at Quatre. "Do you play any musical instruments?"
"Umm...the violin," Quatre answered in confusion.
"You are my knight in shining armor!" Trowa cried out in joy.
Before Quatre could respond, the Ringmaster burst into the room.
"Who the hell are you?!" demanded the Ringmaster.
"I'm Trowa," Trowa replied simply.
"Not you," snapped the Ringmaster. He jabbed a finger at Quatre's chest. "This crazed lunatic!"
Quatre began to feel his cheeks flush as the situation was unfortunately becoming more and more clear.
"Uh...I am Sir Quatre," the blond knight said.
"He's come to rescue me," Trowa added with a smile.
"Uhh...well, let's not jump to any conclusions," Quatre mumbled.
The Ringmaster furrowed his brow.
"Did you kill all those guards?" he asked angrily.
"Uhh...Oh yes...sorry about that..." Quatre said nervously.
"They cost fifty pounds each!" the Ringmaster yelled angrily.
Trowa quickly took Quatre's arm and whispered into his ear, "Don't be afraid of him, Sir Quatre. I've got a rope all ready!" Trowa gestured at the rope that was hanging out the window and secured against the bedpost.
"You killed eight wedding guests already," the Ringmaster accused Quatre.
"Well, uh...you see...the thing is...I thought your son was a lady in distress," Quatre stated.
"I can understand that," the Ringmaster agreed. "But you killed the bride's father! Lord Noventa!"
"But I really didn't mean to..." Quatre started to speak.
"Didn't mean to?!" the Ringmaster exclaimed in an incredulous voice. "You put your damn sword through his head!"
"Oh dear," Quatre said in an ashamed tone of voice. "Is he all right?"
"Of course not! You even kicked the bride, Sylvia Noventa, in the chest!" the Ringmaster continued to yell.
"Well, you see...I can explain. I was riding east from the desert, on a quest for Queen Relena of the Sanq Kingdom, when I got this note..."
"Queen Relena? The Sanq Kingdom?" the Ringmaster interrupted quickly. "Are you one of her knights?"
"Hurry, Sir Quatre!" Trowa urged, waving the rope in front of Quatre's face. Quatre batted the rope away.
"Yes, I am one of her knights," Quatre answered.
"Hmm...Queen Relena...the Sanq Kingdom," the Ringmaster mused. "The Sanq Kingdom is a very good pig kingdom."
"Uh, really?" Quatre was becoming more and more confused.
The Ringmaster's eyes narrowed and it was clear where Trowa's had gotten his plotting mind from.
"Come with me and have a drink," the Ringmaster offered, his voice having changed entirely. His broad smile and opening arms welcomed Quatre.
"Well, uhh...that's awfully nice of you..." Quatre said.
"Sir Quatre, are you married?" the Ringmaster asked very casually. He swept his arms around Quatre, and in the process knocked Trowa out the window.
They both heard a loud splash.
"What was that?" Quatre asked, somewhat alarmed.
The Ringmaster shrugged. "Pay no heed. Come down with me and let's have a toast."
The Ringmaster guided Quatre down the stairs and through the halls. Several people were weeping at the losses of loved ones from Quatre's attack. The Ringmaster seemed completely oblivious to the entire scene. Instead, he was gesturing at the large hall leading to the open courtyard.
"Well, this is the main hall. We're going to have all this knocked down through and made into one big living room. I've even got the permits for an add-on," the Ringmaster told him.
"There he is!" screeched one of the guests, pointing out the blond knight. "He killed my brother!"
The guests began to scream and panic. Several were picking up butter knives and any other culinary instrument to defend themselves against the crazed blond knight.
The Ringmaster sighed. "Oh, bloody hell!"
He jumped up onto the banquet table and looked at the carnage before him.
"Hold! Please! Hold! This is Sir Quatre from Queen Relena's Court. A very brave and influential knight. And my very special guest here today!" the Ringmaster announced. "This is supposed to be a happy occasion! Let's not bicker and argue about who killed who...or who has weapons of mass destruction! We are here today to witness the union of two young people in the joyful bond of the holy wedlock. Unfortunately, one of them, my adoptive son, Trowa, has just fallen to his death."
The guests murmured in confusion. Even Quatre was surprised by the statement. He looked around nervously.
"But I don't want to think I've lost a son...so much as...I have gained a daughter!" the Ringmaster proclaimed.
The crowd applauded appreciatively. After all, they had come to watch sentimental dribble.
"For since the tragic death of her father..." the Ringmaster continued.
"I'm not quite dead!" coughed Lord Noventa, an elderly man dressed in an elaborate uniform. He sprawled on the table next to the Ringmaster's foot. There was a large wound to his head.
"Since the near fatal wounding of her father..." the Ringmaster corrected himself.
"I'm feeling better!" Lord Noventa pointed out as he was slowly pulling himself up.
The Ringmaster kicked Lord Noventa back down. He reached over and grasped a nearby sword.
"For, since her own father...who when he seemed about to recover...suddenly felt..." the Ringmaster paused dramatically and drove the sword into Lord Noventa for further emphasis, "...the icy hand of death upon him."
"Oh dear, look's like he has died," one of the guests observed.
"And I want his only daughter, Sylvia Noventa, to look upon me as her own father...in a very real and legally binding sense," the Ringmaster added. "Sir Quatre has graciously agreed to become my son-in-law, and marry my daughter Sylvia. And I feel sure that the closing of this deal...I...uhhh...mean the marital union between Sylvia and the brave, but very, very dangerous, Sir Quatre..."
Quatre looked around nervously. He looked at the young woman he presumed was Sylvia Noventa. Indeed, he did remember kicking her rather sharply in the chest. He also remembered stabbing her father in the head. He was also quite aware of the fact that she was fingering a very dangerous looking butter knife. Quatre yelped, "I think I shall be departing now!"
"No...wait!" called out the Ringmaster, grasping at Quatre. But the young warrior easily evaded his grasp.
The blond knight jumped off the table and onto his horse, which was grazing conveniently on a nearby salad. Quatre quickly drove his heels into the stallion and rode off, making sure the horse ran over Sylvia Noventa as a cautionary measure.
When the young blond man came out of the gates, he reigned in his horse and was breathing heavily.
"Quite frightening, isn't it?" a voice asked.
Quatre cried out in pain and doubled over upon hearing the word 'it'! After he recovered, Quatre looked over to his side to see the young Trowa standing in the damp castle moat.
Quatre nodded. "I don't think I am ready to marry," he admitted.
Trowa's eyes gleamed with happiness. "Can I come with you, Sir Quatre?"
Quatre nodded his agreement. "Just don't say that two letter word that begins with an 'i' and ends with a 't'!" he told Trowa.
Trowa shrugged. Then, the tall, young man ran at the horse and somersaulted miraculously into the air and landed neatly behind Quatre. He pulled his arms tightly around Quatre's waist.
"Let's go, my knight in shining armor," Trowa said with a grin. "By the way...can I bring my pet lions along?"