[i]The previous night-[/i]

[i]In the year 1449 of our lord and saviour, upon the distant realm known as the Omega our hero competes in a tourney to test his might against those who would besmirch the name of the great King Henry VI Lancaster...[/i]

"Oh shit. Oh fuck. Oh shit. Oh fuck." The words were mumbled under the young man's breath as he held the sword in trembling hands. Cold sweat poured down in his face in the ill-fitting helm. Everyone in the stands were cheering, stamping their feet as they awaited the confrontation and the inevitable bloody end the man would face. Looking around, he saw that the door was slowly opening and the announcer had taken to the stage.

"Ladies, gentlemen, and scourge of the galaxy!" His booming voice carried throughout the arena in the deep slums, the crowd roaring as they took to their feet. The lights dimmed and silence slowly settled over the crowd as they awaited his intro to the main event.

"It is time for the moment you have been waiting for. Since the age of ten, he was trained to be more than just a simple man. He was to be the next in a long line of noble knights, protectors of the realm, and always prepared to give their life in service of our king. It is said, that the day he earned knighthood, he single-handedly held the walls of Caux against the storm of Frenchmen rebelling against our good king Henry VI Lancaster. Others say of how he refused to leave the field of battle until all English wounded had been safely recovered, despite taking three arrows to the chest and a spear through the shoulder. He is a true hero of the realm, and defender of the Catholic faith against the heathen Ottomans, and the rebellious French. Good men and women of the realm, I present to you, Sir Geoffrey Neville Cockburn, knight in the service of our lord King Henry VI Lancaster!"

Roaring applause and chants of "Sir Geoffrey!" arose from the crowded stands as a monolith of steel and flesh marched out from the dark hall, his polished armor gleaming in the now undimmed lights as he lifted the face of his frog-mouthed helm. Setting his tower shield into the ground with a single stabbing motion, he took his morning-star from the hook upon his belt and planted the head into the ground, kneeling to say a prayer before battle. Upon completing his prayer, the Krogan stood and faced his challenger, looking him head to toe and eyeing the French heraldry about his armor with particular distaste. "Hark! What kind of monster sends mere babies to fight me?" He bellowed, holding his morning-star aloft to the crowd as he gave them a show. Laughter echoed from the people gathered there, knowing that this was less a fight, and more an execution.

The young man grimaced as he felt the laughter spearing into him, throwing caution to the wind as he charged at the Krogan. Sir Geoffrey saw him coming, however, and turned on his heel to evade the sudden lunge, bringing his mace down overhead to slam into the man's exposed back. There was a loud crack as the weapon impacted the man's armor, and then a sudden snap as the field activated around the head to buckle and explode the thin steel inward with a wet crunch. A cry of pain escaped the man's lips and blood spurted out across the interior of his helm, the wound very much a fatal blow. Geoffrey walked around the corpse-to-be and planted his food upon his upper back, looking up to the announcer as if seeking permission to give the lord's mercy to the poor man. A nod was enough for him, and the mace swung down to explode the man's head across the nearby wall in a crackle of electricity and gore cooking in the flash.

Before turning to return to his quarters, he found one within the stands who was not cheering, merely looking down on him with an analytical gaze. He was being judged, and from the way the Turian turned away and exited, it seemed that Sir Geoffrey had met some standard...

[hr]

Some time later, he found himself at the door of Afterlife, a look of disgust on his face as the loud music assaulted his ears and he tried not to look upon the carnal sins underway inside. He was stopped before entering, a Turian guarding the door and looking more confident than he rightly should stopping a Krogan.

"Line's back there big guy." The guard said, gesturing towards the line and a few faces that seemed a mixture between scared and angry.

"Apologies good sir, but I am Sir Geoffrey Neville Cockburn, and have a meeting with Sir Ticus Rakaelum. The lord is awaiting me, and so we must not tarry." His mannerisms were genuinely apologetic, and courteous, an action that made the Turian hesitate to check the list. Finding the Krogan on the list, he opened the door, saying nothing other than giving the knight a nod as he parted. [i]What the actual fuck.[/i] The Turian thought to himself as he took the next person in line, adding this one up to the list of oddities he had seen during the day. Perhaps it was time to transfer to the Citadel after all.

Inside, Sir Geoffrey made his way up the stairs according to the direction of a bouncer just inside the door, giving a slight bow to one of Aria T'loak's guards he had passed. The Asari gave him a strange look halfway between bewilderment and irritation, though the look was soon past as he reached the platform with the armored Batarian. Giving a bow, Geoffrey awaited his allowance beyond.

"Uhm. I take it you are the Krogan here to see Mr Rakaelum?"

Geoffrey's look of confusion alarmed the Batarian for a moment, as he was well within arm's reach "No my good sir, I am Sir Geoffrey Neville Cockburn, knight of the realm and beholden to our lord King Henry VI Lancaster. Lord Ticus Rakaelum requested my presence as a favor to our noble king."

"Riiiiight.... Go ahead inside. Careful, 'Lord Ticus' is not in a pleasant mood." The Batarian shook his head for a moment and pinched himself to test whether he was truly awake or living a terrible nightmare, trying not to look back as Geoffrey passed him into the private booth. Taking a knee before Ticus, Geoffrey bowed his head and gave his respects "My lord, I have come to render my services as requested."

"Take a seat." Ticus said quietly, narrowing his eyes as he looked down at the kneeling Krogan. Of course, Geoffrey complied with the request, believing Ticus to be a lord of the realm as his announcer had introduced him as hours earlier.

"I'll be straight and to the point. Someone of your skill-set could be of use to me and my... 'Realm'." He said the last word with hesitation, seemingly unsure as to whether or not to play into the Krogan's mindset. "More to the point, if you so chose, you could be given a place of permanence within my employ."

Sir Geoffrey nodded towards Ticus, seemingly deep in thought, thinking over the proposal. "From what I have been told, you are one with honour and in good favour with our lord, King Henry VI Lancaster. It would be my honor to take up my mace in your service, my lord. Tell me what heathen or rebel dares to defy you, and they will be dealt with as you please."

A smirk crossed the face of Ticus as Geoffrey accepted the offer, and soon after the knight-Krogan was on his way back to the arena to rest for the night and begin his task in the early morning. A long journey lay ahead of him, and whether he knew it or not, he had unwittingly just signed himself into the service of a criminal organization, a betrayal of everything he believed in.