The Seyrun knights were part of the reason Sailoon had kept its sovereignty. At some point in the distant past, a Sailoon king had realized that the army was simply not enough to fend off all the kingdoms that wanted Sailoon's resources. And so, the Knights were founded.
Each Knight was at least a level one or two sorcerer/sorceress, possessed a degree from the University, and had at least four years experience in the Army.
Training for a Knight was harsh. In addition to receiving combat training that went beyond the Army's, a Knight was trained in wilderness survival, espionage, blacksmithing, and a host of others. Ninety-Five percent washed out.
Those that remained were the best of the best. The elite.
There was an old story that the Brodaboon Territories once had a riot by a minor faction dedicated to the overthrow of the entire Sailoon Government and the Brodaboon territorial Governor had asked Sailoon for help. Facing an invasion attempt by the Mazoku worshipping Nap'artha Empire, the King could only afford to send one Seyrun Knight.
When the Knight arrived, the terrified Governor protested that the knight was only one man. The knight had looked at him and replied.
"Well, ya got only one riot."
It was an amusing story. Zelgadis thought as he descended the stairs towards the dining hall. But it was only a story.
Of course, that's what many people had said about his legendary battle with Lina and Gourry against Shabirnigdo.
Ameila looked with distaste at the red liquid in the goblet before her.
"Do I have to drink this?" She asked.
"Yes Dear." said Cordelia. "Its for the baby."
"Somehow, I doubt the baby's health is the least of his worries." Ameila muttered, draining the goblet and then making a face.
"The least of who's worries dear?"
"Never you mind." Ameila replied as she reached for the roasted hen on the plate before her. "Everyone will find out soon enough."
At that moment, the doors to the dining hall opened. Standing there was a page and two figures, one drastically shorter then the other, both wearing hooded black robes, their faces hidden in the shadows of the heavy fabric.
"Her Grace," Bellowed the page at the top of his lungs. "The Duchess of Taranal, and her bodygaurd, the Baron of Vormol!"
"Thank you." The shorter of the two replied, stepping into the room and pulling her hood down.
Her orange hair was lighter now and streaked with gray. Her eyes held that slight deadness of one who has been in the presence of Gods and demons and lived to tell about it.
Her fair face was weatherbeaten, but Lina Inverse was still beautiful.
Behind her, her companion also removed his hood. His long blond hair, graying slightly, reached down his back and three scars, a souviener of a battle with some beast, cut diagonally across his face.
Like Lina, his eyes too were slightly dead, and the shape of his face, along with the slightly vacant expression he wore, were a mute testament to the elf blood that lay somewhere in Sir Gourry Gabreiv's ancestry.
"Your Grace." Ameila said, rising to her feet as a sly smile spread across her face. "What brings you by?"
"Just dropping in for a visit." Lina said, crossing the room and clasping Ameila's hand warmly. "Oh, here." She dropped a bag on the table, which clinked with the sounds of coins.
"And what part of Sailoon have I lost now?" Ameila asked dryly, sitting down.
"The street in front of the Sword and Dagger on Rose Street." Lina replied, taking a goblet from the tray of a passing servant and drinking deep. "You might want to let the constable know about three wannabe toughs calling themselves "The Sailoon Wealth Eqaulization society. One of them had magic."
"Magic?" Lina nodded.
"He threatend me with a Flare Arrow."
"Did he now?" Asked Zelgadis as he too arrived and clapsed Lina's hand warmly. For a moment, Sorceress and Chimera stared into each other's eyes and then both looked away.
"Yeah." Lina said. "Gourry and I checked him out. No Tatoo. That means he's either somehow manged to avoid being marked, or he's a natural."
"Not a very good one if he's mugging travelers." Zelgadis noted as he took his seat at Ameila's right.
"He might be new at it too." Lina replied, walking around the table and sitting in the first vacant chair she came to.
"Tatoo?" Ameila asked.
"Because of its inherant dangers and the fact that its very nature comes from agression, anger, and other negative emotions, all practicioners of Black Magic are required to be marked by a magical tatoo." Lina pulled down her left glove, revealing an intricate series of lines, loops, and runes that started just above her wrist and covered about half her forearm. "Its actually a form of Identifacation dating back to the founding of the Professional Magicans Society. Back then, it was widely held belief that practicioners of Black Magic should skulk through alleyways, have intricate passwords, and secret meetings."
"Those meetings invaribly decsended into drunken binges." Zelgadis commented, taking a bite of fruit.
"Anyway." Lina continued, flicking a grape at the Chimera. "The PMS eventually suffered a schism of ideals in fifty nintey two and large numbers of its members split off into various splinter factions, each of which evolved into its own society with its own rules and requirements. About the only constant is that each and every one requires its members to be marked." Lina shrugged. "Personally, I think Mother just likes to be able to keep an eye on us."
"I'm never going to get used to you calling her that." Zelgadis muttered.