Session VI

Ah, at last, our dear readers, we return to a scene of revelry and anticipation! Where last we had left off, the party had reached the precinct of the sixth, in the corner of the Market of the Morning, where they were met by Corporal Steinabrook for their previously scheduled bout of fisticuffs. Now, we should perhaps paint a picture for our readers of the Sixth Precinct. The precinct was built out around one of the many towers, known generally among the Anbaerenin as the 'bones' of the city, for, as our readers will no doubt know already, these 'bones' of the city were not built by any contemporary mason or architect, seeming to have been there since the day the city was completed however many eons ago that may have been. However, mortal ingenuity has not ascended to the heights of whatever ancient age sired this mightiest of cities, but that has not kept these more contemporary denizens from adding their own contributions, lackluster as they always seem to be, relative to those that have come before. Precinct Six is no different. Among that towering white-stoned, and gilded tower, replete with glass-like doors, studier than any piece of steel, that we find a training yard, and outbuildings clinging to the tower, and surrounding the training grounds, creating a courtyard of sorts, where all manner of things were going on, for as the city never sleeps, so neither do the guards. Among the stables, and barracks, and mess, and other structures of utilitarian natures specific to our dear guards purposes, and all in the Daemeron style as was so common then, we have a sparring ring, or rather a corral, and in its midst we have our worthy Cpl. Radden Steinabrook beckoning our dear friend Cat. And without the ring we have the gathering crowd, chancing upon a good excuse pause and enjoy the festivities. Now, with our stage finally set, we will, without further delay, relate to you the events of our merry friends, of which our history follows.

For Cat's part, it should come as no surprise, that he was eager to play, but lest our reader misinterpret the kind of play, we should mention that this play held no warmth in it -- that is it was not the play demanded from insult or injury in the heat of a moment -- but it was a joyous warmth -- that is an eager agreement from either party to commit enough harm unto to other's person such that he would be rendered unconscious: gentlemanly violence, in other words, and Cat joyous entered the sparring ring.

Aerith, on Cobb's volition, moseyed, for mosey, indeed, she did, around the ring searching for those that would place bets. But, finding few fruits in her efforts, though her heart was not in it, to be sure, she only ended up placing bets in a small pool, offering one silver, at two to one odds against Cat, and a personal bet between a groom that had come over to take his ease whilst enjoying the violence of men whom do not wish harm to each other of one copper.

Brixta, this party's latest addition, hung back at the back of the crowd, remaining aloof -- we are sure -- for reasons of distrust, and that of authority. For though, Brixta's origins are not clear at this precise moment, we feel that, in the course of of our investigations, we are comfortable in concluding that Brixta was naive yet bold -- a generally doomed mixture of personality traits, however, Brixta, as our readers know well, was not alone. For, though Aerith, Cobb, and Cat, are but acquaintances not even an hour old, our readers will no doubt notice that there is a sort of gravity about these principal actors of ours that attracts those of like attractions to themselves, as we will endeavor to faithfully unravel to our astute readers with our narrative -- both the burgeoning friendship betwixt these worthies, and perhaps even the nature behind Brixta's apprehensions.

But, at last, we come to it! The parlay of fists between Cat and Cpl. Steinabrook! With a quick, if woefully rudimentary description of the rules of the bout, Cat leaps into action with a flurry of quick jabs and kicks. And we do indeed mean flurry, for the movements surprised Steinabrook quite entirely. In fact, Steinabrook had difficulty landing blows overall, or even producing enough impact to truly disorient our disguised furry companion. Indeed, it appeared that Steinabrook was losing, as Cat danced around his punches and, with incredible force, dealt heavy blows to our Corporal. However, the Anbaerenin Guard, though more than competent soldiers, and keepers of the peace, are nothing if not resilient, Steinabrook perhaps more so than most. For through the patient endurance and slow meticulous advance upon Cat, Radden managed to weather the worst of our feline's fury, and began to then slowly, and inevitably wear Cat down until at last, Cat was rendered unconscious.

Lest our readers be upset by this stunning outcome, since Cat is one of our heroes, allow to note that Cat wished for nothing other than a worthy challenge, and that Cpl. Steinabrook has been a guardsman for no insignificant amount of time. Thus, in finding those worthy enough to challenge, Cat accepts the possibility of defeat -- and, if our readers will permit these humble historians some little amount of philosophizing, it should be stated that our errors often have more to teach us than our successes, for if one were to win at everything, he should think himself above everything and therefore not test himself, but if one were to lose, he discovers a limit within himself, a limit that can be overcome, and he thus pursues greater progress, now wiser for having been taught his mistakes. So, in one hand our dear Cat has suffered defeat, but in this defeat he has gained the wisdom that guards are no pushovers, nor are the punches of those less trained in unarmed combat less of a threat for lacking the training of Cat's people, and now Cat has encountereda new level of martial prowess to aspire to. Whereas if he had not, then Cat, or one like him, may very well fall into the trap of arrogance and then stagnation. For, as is well established in Emotionist literature, particularly among the camp of R. Forthwick, arrogance breeds stagnation. Thus, our dear Cat has saved himself from arrogance in this loss, and as proof, that we hope our readers will accept, he has truly won for he awakens not moments later joyful and happy if, perhaps, much more tender than a few moments prior, completely at peace about the outcome of the bout, and, in fact, ecstatic that he managed so well.

Also, it should be noted, that Aerith, who our reader must remember had placed bets before the fight, bets on her party member -- for such was her esteem of Cat -- and was now out the one silver piece and one copper penny. However, it was not a complete loss for our dear Aerith, in fact, if our estimations are correct, and we hope to demonstrate that they are, indeed, our worthy cleric found obtains for herself a treasure more precious than one silver and one copper. That is to say, that Aerith approached Cpl. Steinabrook to arrange a future time and day, of a more social nature -- one which, should Fortune favor their intentions, would end not simply as the pleasantries of good friends enjoying one another's company, but, rather, she hoped, in a more intimate exchange. Corporal Steinabrook, for his part a world-wise gentleman, was certainly intrigued and considerably amenable to such an arrangement.

So it can be said, that the group came out of this friendly exchange of violence quite ahead, well perhaps not in Cobb's view, but even then Cobb certainly knows the age old merchant's rule of, "nothing ventured, nothing gained" which of course our illustrious audience would know to mean that risk is part of growth, whether financially, mentally, physically, or otherwise, and in the pursuit of growth it is inevitable to encounter loss. Nevertheless, Cobb does put up a stink, as much as one 'awakened' frog can, and is carried off with the rest of our party to gather Lillan, the proprietress of the Wandering Wand, and finding a beggar to take them to the Beggar's Respite where our party retires after rehashing the age old question of, "What is the Respite?"

Though we would not dare to presume that this was all they did, it is decidedly difficult to know what goes on in the Beggar's Respite, but on good authority, with what meager tools we simple historians have at our disposal, we can offer this one hypothesis: Cobb coaching Brixta on her exam on the morrow at the Arcanum, of which we must leave our readers in suspense, for more information is forthcoming, and we ever strive to relay the most accurate picture of these histories as is possible. Thus, we must beg our readers' grace and patience as we assemble the next leg of our heroes' journeys.