Polymath (𝓒𝓞𝓜𝓟𝓛𝓔𝓣𝓔)

Polymath

"Jarah?"

"Yes?"

"They're both away."

"Are you sure this will work, Alperen?"

"It will work."

"How long?"

"When the Regent thinks he has won, he will lose."

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Polymath

"imbued with varied knowledge, skills and abilities."

It was the mid-morning of market day in Starfall. People streamed in from all directions and the cries of the vendors filled the air. Those who were sensitive felt an inescapable tension in the air, but most went about their usual tasks, unaware. Here and there people mentioned the nearness of the Princess' birthday, and others mentioned the Regent—but always in low or respectful tones.

On the west side of the market center, Arvath, one of the few surviving men of the Princess' personal guard, lounged against the wall. By his side was a small woman, with ebony skin and curls, whose eyes of glimmering gold searched the crowd intently. Both were swathed in long traveling cloaks.

From the south, a stocky, sturdy woman dressed in a light traveling cloak made her way to the middle of the square as well, stopping occasionally to look around her. Her round face with it's coppery skin was dusty from the road, but her hazel eyes were alert. She reached up to brush away the wisps of hair that had escaped from her long dark brown braid, her eyes still scanning the crowd.

In the north part of the square Keladore, another one of the surviving guards, strode forward as people moved out of the way. A few recognized him, but not the pale-robed woman that walked beside him. Garbed as a cleric, her calm demeanor, blonde hair and cherubic face gave her an air of delicacy at odds with the steely determination in her gray eyes. Just past the edge of the square the pair paused.

To the east the crowd parted to allow a warrior woman to pass unhindered. Her mail was grimy from the road, her face was marked with tribal paint and her expression was grim and intent. A sword rode in it's sheath on her back, her shield sat on her right shoulder and a mace was cradled on her belt. Taking her helm from her honey brown hair, she raised her hand to shield her brown eyes from the glare as she scanned the crowd.

From the mouth of an alley between two vendor's stalls a tall, slim figure appeared, wearing a dark beige, sleeveless robe. His dark skin was marked with tattoos over his arms, neck and face as well as on his shaved head. Looking left, then right, he stepped out into the square and strode toward the fountain that marked the center. His step was confident and firm and he appeared to be utterly unaware of the stir his appearance had caused among the locals.

Five men wearing the regent's yellow and black livery were lounging near the fountain. One noticed the robed man and poked the apparent leader to get his attention. Immediately alert and wearing identical expressions of glee, they advanced toward the tall figure, weapons drawn.

"Halt!" Commanded the leader. "Surrender yourself in the name of the Regent!"

"I recognize no such authority," replied the tattooed man firmly.

Arvath straightened and Inali found herself reaching for her knife. Seda unconsciously began weaving a warding spell. Keladore looked alarmed, while Gwyn remained placid but interested. Myrcella started forward, only to stop short, amazed.