The fact that Ian brought his bag of armor here signals that there was, at some time, some noble intent of actually getting some kind of workout in, if not an actual spar. That bag even sits near the arena. Ian, however, sits at the bar. Drinking. So that could have turned out better. But maybe it's the thought that counts!

Jan strides in with a burlap sack full of armor slung over her shoulder jangling as she ambles in. Ian gets a bob of her head as she approaches in an unhurried pace.

There is, indeed, a certain amount of tumult that comes with the arrival of multiple figures in armour. Nor, truthfully, would Patrizio Pravus downplay a good deal of how he arrives, with his entourage of six soldiers in his wake, the blue-and-steel of his house apparent upon their attire, even if the prince himself is more dressed for the season than for campaign. A smile finds him easily as he makes his way towards the bar, and a chuckle finds him, even as he offers a familiar up-nod to the barkeep, as he's ordering for himself a whiskey. "Steeling yourself for what is to come, or perhaps trying to lure others into a false sense of security, my lord?" Jan, on her arrival, get an up-nod as well, and a hint of a smile. "General."

"I fancy a fight," Denica announces on her arrival and her voice probably carries. Cato her mysterious companion, gets a little twinge in his left eye and mutters about checking the baths. When he departs, the Maelstrom princess turns her attention to the room on entry. A pause. Taking in the familiar sight like it's been ages since she's set foot here. The woman's compact figure is clad in shimmery steelsilk, a dress that lends itself to both fighting and sipping. There's a little glean in her eyes, as she flips some of her black locks over her shoulder making her way in. Vivid blues light up as she sees a collection of people she's excited to share space with. "Kennexes," she says to Ian and Jan, giving them a wiggle of her fingers in greeting. Patrizio is a sight and Denica waves to catch his attention, "your highness," she beams him a smile. "What a delight." The young woman seems unaware that she rhymed, there.

Medeia, choosing a mostly white ensemble that resembles marble but not armor, glides into the Arena with a soft smile on her face. She manages to shimmy past Patrizio's guards to appear directly at his side before murmuring, "Only fools - or people who have never heard of Lord Kennex - would have such a sense." She grins, orders a glass of white wine, and then flits away to settle at a table that provides a good view of the sparring area. She lifts a hand to wave to Denica and Jan.

Ian lifts his chin in a greeting to Jan when he spots her coming inside. "Just having a drink," he says to Patrizio, after, true to his word, taking a sip of whiskey. "Princess Denica. Lady Medeia."

Cillian comes walking into the Heart Arena looking around, "So I heard this rumor's that there was a gathering and it could be a Sip'n'Spar." he grins looking over at Ian. "So, I had to come check it out for myself." He doesn't have a bag with him, just hit leathers and such. He has been MIA a bit as of recently, but seems he is alive and doing alright.

Jan says, "Cousin. Highnesses. Lady." A wave to Cillian as he arrives. She sets her bag down and notes "Today is a good day to whoop the wind out of each other." she declares, pulling out armor and strapping it on "Even if it's a mite toasty."

A warm smile finds Patrizio at Denise's hail to him, and he inclines his head more profoundly. "Your highness," echoes he back to her, though a chuckle finds him when Medeia addresses him. "There are a great many fools within our society, my lady. We know of this already, and alas, we suffer them still." Those jade eyes twinkled even as he's taking up his drink, the glass tipped briefly to Ian. "Too true," says he, before he's saluting Cillian with the vessel. "My lord. I trust that you are well? It has been quite a while since we exchanged words."

Ian teeters his hand to Cillian. "I don't think it can be one of those without Valencia being here," he says after a moment. "But I'm not opposed to drinking and getting in a fight. There are worse ways to train."

Jan says, "Valencia said people are always welcome to use the Hart but I don't know the tradition of the sip and spar."

"Lady Medeia, how opportune," Denica says with a little wave in her direction, "how have you been?," she asks the other woman curiously. Meandering towards the bar, she saddles up against it and leans to order her drink. "Whisky sour," the princess decides, opting for something to compliment the warm weather. Cillian's talk of rumours is met with an quirk of her eyebrow. "Now doesn't that sound fun." There's a wink, then. The woman's paint-stained fingers curl around a glass on its arrival at the bar. Lifting it she silently toasts everyone she's greeted.

Cillian nods his head to everyone, "It is good to see everyone." he nods his head, "Prince Patrizio." he moves to pat the man on the shoulder, "I am well, I was up north handling some things for the house. My trip back was slowed a bit as I had a couple special packages that needed to brought back to the city." he smiles, "But all are back and everything is well." he looks to Ian and moves clasp his arm. "Hello Ian."

Medeia swirls her wine gently, watching the others. Her free hand makes note to Patrizio and Denica that there is room at her table should they wish it. "That you permit anyone to cause you to suffer is truly a measure of your goodness, Your Highness." Her smile curls coyly at the Pravusi prince. The. she gives Cillian a nod of greeting.

For a moment, the prince of Pravus turns his gaze to the sands, with some mild contemplation of it, before his attention returns to the coterie that's gathered there at the bar. "I'm glad that you returned safely," he says with warmth to Cillian, a gentle clasp of his hand on the man's shoulder, even as the other draws his glass to his lips for a sip. And a breath slips free, the faint return of that smile when Ian's speaking of 'worse ways to train'. "It all depends on who it is that you are attempting to train to fight /against/," he offers.

Though there's a shake of his head. "I fear that it's not so much a matter of 'permit' - those who are fools simply impose their will to have us endure them all on their own," counters he, even as he's not quite moving to the offered place at the table, but easing a half-step from the bar to make easier the approach of others to it.

Ian sets his drink down a little bit belatedly to accept/return Cillian's arm clasp, before explaining to Jan: "The Sip and Spars have always had Valencia here to oversee them and make sure everyone who wants a sparring partner finds one. Without her here, we're all just getting together to get drunk and swing weapons at each other." Then he nods to Patrizio, and opines without the slightest trace of humor in his voice: "If the Traitor sends a bunch of drunk swordsmen at us to politely wait around and fight us one at a time as we finish our own drinks, we'll have him right where we want him."

Jan ahhhs "Then it most certainly not a sip and spar. Perhaps it's a drink and demonstrait?" She lofts her eyebrows and flashes a grin "And fuck yes we do.

Holding her glass, Medeia's offer of a spot at her table it met with a small princess in a chair. Ian's comment about drinking and getting into a fight bring Denica to a chuckle. There's a mischievous twitch of eyebrows and she takes a sip. The princess tilts her head to the side and looks at Patrizio in silence for a good few seconds before taking a quiet sip of her drink. Shooting a look over at Jan, there's a quick nod, "clever," she says of the name.

Medeia's gaze flicks from Patrizio to Ian, mild amusement for the idea of how the Traitor might be defeated. To Denica, she offers a warmer smile. "Princess, how have you been?"

"Now you're getting my hopes up over suggesting the use of fire once more, drunken mobs," Patrizio offers to Ian, almost serious - almost - as he's letting that glass linger near his lower lip. "Though this case, it might be Setarco Fire rather than that named for our continent." He meets Denica's gaze, though hardly with an intensity that need be considered worrisome. Jan's suggestion gets the teasing cluck of his tongue and a smile. "Perhaps that's also a good push for me to bring up with her highness as to seeing when she might be of mind to host another. I think the times've not been conducive for it of late."

Ian angles his head and regards Patrizio. A little more softly, he says: "I'm not sure she ever really saw how much those things meant to the people who came to them. A real one would do a lot of good."

Jan tilts her head, helm dangling from her hand "Maybe someone should tell her that."

Catching Ian's comment about drunk swordsmen brings a bemused expression to Denica's features, she swirls the whisky in her glass and takes a sip. Medeia's question is met with an easy smile, "The occasional jaunt me with some project. Strategy. Art. Chaos. Clarity.," the woman says with a small roll of her shoulders. Taking a small sip of her drink, she glances between Ian and Patrizio, briefly on their discussion of future events. Then looking at Ian, "if you need someone to help in any of your demonstrations, I happily volunteer." Denica offers good-naturedly.

Ian looks at Denica for a moment, and then knocks back the rest of his drink and sets the glass on the bar hard enough to create a sense of finality from the sound. "Let's do it. Better now than after I'm a few drinks in."

Medeia's expression shifts, looking a little troubled as she thinks about something. She glances around among Patrizio, Ian, and Jan before affixing a smile back in place and focusing on Denica. "How lovely. Hopefully, there will be new art to view soon?" Then she stands from her seat. "If you will excuse me? I am suddenly not feeling terribly well." She then heads for the door, abandoning her barely touched wine.

Celina, a dutiful physician's assistant, Giancarlo, a cooper and prize-fighter leave, following Medeia.

When Ian agrees, the rest of Denica's whisky sour is knocked back and the glass places on the table. It also makes a sound. Medeia and Patrizio receive a parting smile, one that lights her up. "I will strive to at the very least, be entertaining," she vows to them. Reaching back to lift up her hair, the princess takes a small hair pin out from her bag and secures it there. Lips cast into an easy smile that quickly fades with Medeia announces not feeling well, looking concerned and stepping to the side as the woman departs. Adjusting her tentacle crown, the small woman makes her way over towards Ian.

Jan grins and nods and then looks after Medeia with mild concern before her gaze returns to Denica "I do love watching two well trained swords."

Ian gets beat up leather coat from Oiled leather bag.

Patrizio's brow rises when Medeia's excusing herself, watching after the Saik lady for some moments, before his attention comes back to the here-and-now in the Arena proper. "I think it'd be helpful if it came from other quarters than myself - I've been quite joyed to be a firm supporter of the Hart and its events. But still, hearing it from far and wide might be more an encouragement." He shifts, leaning back against the bar, though it's mindful of being out of the way of Ian and Denica as they prepare.

Ian gets Crimson leather spaulder from Oiled leather bag.

"I'm not sure anyone could say it to her so she'd believe it," Ian remarks to Patrizio while he's putting his coat on. "Or it'd take someone a lot better at talking people into stuff than most of us are. She's never struck me as all that interested in seeing what she brings to the people who know her."

Ian gets a long, slender goldsteel blade from Oiled leather bag.

Ian wields a long, slender goldsteel blade.

Denica wields elegant diamondplate and starlight silk hand fan adorned with crushed diamonds and iridescite along the spines.

Cillian gets himself a drink and looks over as Medeia leave, his glass comes to his lips as he takes a sip of his whiskey. He gives a soft hmm then looks over to Patrizio and the others, "It has been a while since I sat and spoke with Valencia, I will do so again soon and I will let her know." he looks between Ian and Denica a small smile coming to his lips.

Ian has left the bar.

Ian has joined the ring of valor.

A fight has broken out here. Use @spectate_combat to watch, or +fight to join.

Denica rolls her left shoulder and then her right. Fingers lace behind her back and she stretches arching and Denica shoots Jan a smile, appreciating her comment. Then she scans the room and her attention bounces from Patrizio to Cillian. Dipping her head to the two before she turns to face Ian. The short woman gives the Kennex lord a friend grin before she takes out her fan. Tapping it to the side, she lets it unfurl before she clasp it closed again. It's theatrics, Denica is having a bit of fun. But, when they start to spar, the dark-haired woman focuses and she shift her demeanour to something keen and energetic. Eyes bright, she's watching Ian and his weapon. They way they move together. There are times she finds that space between, tapping her weapon and other times it finds mere space and she opens herself as a result. The woman keeps herself loose and limber, taking steps like some surreal dance, where the movements are reactive. The moments she gets hits by Ian she takes them in stride, eyes squinting but rolling with it and bouncing back. Denica is smiling through her hurried breathing, seeming to enjoy herself as she spars in the sands.

Jan watches the pair and calls encouragingly "This is usually the point I start cussing for strength, you're a formidable force, Princess."

Before entering the arena, Ian unwraps the sword he brought with him today, that beautiful goldsteel blade that's as long as a rapier and almost as nimble as a rapier, but with a flatter blade cut and thrust blade. He makes his way with uncertain steps onto the sands, and holds that sword in his customary lazy guard that lets the point dip down in a way calculated to drive any fencing instructor crazy.

That golden blade flashes, lambent, like pale fire, as the fight begins. He's using the length of his weapon pretty effectively to keep Denica at bay while he does his best to cobble together some kind of strategy that will work for him against her very unfamiliar weapon, that fan that can be both attack and defense. Someone faster on their feet might try and circle her to work their way around the weapon, but Ian, all but rooted to the spot as he fights, is forced instead to adjust to HER movement, while trying to bait her into making the kind of mistake that he can capitalize on. It's not working out for him so far; time and again, his strikes are turned aside by that fan, or by her steelsilk clothing.

A sound strays from Patrizio while he lingers there, those jade eyes flitting between Denica and Ian as they're taking up the spar and... a chuckle for Jan. "You know not that she's not letting out such words inwardly, General," offers he as his commentary, even if he's not taking his eyes off the two on the sands.

Ian doesn't show any real sign of anything changing in the fight as it continues. His expression is slack, eyes so intense they could almost be glowing. But he shows little sign of doing anything other than holding Denica back and having his strikes turned away in turn. It's only after this changes that it becomes clear in retrospect that something WAS changing, a slow adapting of his style to hers. When he's finally able to bait her into opening her guard enough to let him sneak a hit through, it's clear in retrospect that he was always working towards this moment, one admittedly brutal hit that probably is going to result in a bruise, even through the steelsilk.

Jan watches, remaining sober but chewing her bottom lip pensively as if her mind wanders even while her gaze remains locked on the blades.

Cillian sits watching the two out on the sands, his eyes darting back and forth as they move about in the spar, his glass brought up to his lips again as he watches.

Jan looks over to Patrizio and grins "What's the worst curse in the Prince Patrizio vocabulary, highness?"

It's hard not to get into the flare of the fan as Denica fights with it. It allows her movements to reflect her grace and agility, fingers are curled so that it becomes an extension of her. The pale of the woman's cheeks become rosier the longer she fights. The increased heart rate and faster breathing has her slightly flushed and she tries to focus on both Ian and his blade. As they continue the back-and-forth, the man's strikes hit harder than before. The subtle cracks in the young woman's expression and windless sudden breaths betrays her reaction as her body clenches or tenses to work through them. That's going to bruise. There's determination in her eyes and while she no doubt hears the talk in the background, Denica knows that she needs to keep her attention on Ian. The man escapes her from time-to-time and she's waiting for those opportune moments she gets her own retaliations in. Despite the intensity in her, Denica cannot help but shoot friendly smiles at Ian, because she's having fun.

Patrizio turns his head just enough to spy where Cillian's settled, as if there's some worry for the man. The flash of those blades, the ease of his smile as he's leaning back against the bar... and a thoughtful sound about Jan's question posed to him. "Worst is so subjective," offers he lowly. "A truly trying moment requires something original just for the moment."

As Ian continues to try to find some kind of advantage to press, with limited success, he, too starts to show signs of how long he and Denica have been fighting, and how fast they've been moving. His breathing is still even, but he's wearing a lot of heavy leather in the summer heat, and it's started to show in sweat that beads on his forehead. His sword forms a golden blur around him, a weaponized halo, as he presses in on Denica. One advance is aggressive enough that part of his strike involves using the hardened spaulder that protects his right arm to turn aside the business end of that fan.

Jan's eyebrows loft "Well shuck my skirts and dip me in butter! cousin, I believe she may have learned all your moves!"

A chuckle slips from the prince of Pravus. "See, this is the issue. There's always something about the gods favouring those they choose to favour, but there's always the element of surprise, even upon the sands." Though after a moment's further consideration, he adds, "Or perhaps it requires more alcohol."

Denica Summer is hard for Islanders. The small princess is regretting her wardrobe choices, feeling a few hairs cling to her forehead. Everything becomes heavy and hot. The heat is wearing on her and it shows as they continue to fight. Feeling the ache in her body from each time she gets acquainted with Ian's sword. Taking slow breathes, the young woman tries to think cold thoughts and keep her attention focused on that blur of glinting gold. Everything hits harder the longer they go, Denica squints as she summons all the energy she has left. Pushing forward as they continue the fight and leaving the pain for tomorrow Denica's problem.

Denica checks 'unconsciousness save' at easy. Denica is successful.

Denica remains capable of fighting.

Denica checks 'unconsciousness save' at easy. Denica is successful.

Denica remains capable of fighting.

Denica checks 'unconsciousness save' at normal. Denica is successful.

Denica remains capable of fighting.

Denica checks 'unconsciousness save' at hard. Denica is successful.

Denica remains capable of fighting.

Denica checks 'unconsciousness save' at daunting. Denica marginally fails.

Denica is incapacitated and falls unconscious.

Cillian is quiet as he watches the fight, if anyone is looking at him he has not noticed, lost in the way the two move about. He nods to himself as if taking some form of mental note about something that was done or some form of move.

Ian doesn't reply to Jan's taunt, or even show any signs of having heard it. All of his attention is on the sweaty slog that this fight has become. He and Denica are both tiring, and Ian may have some awareness that more than Denica, he can't afford to let himself get worn down; all of his advantage in combat rests on being able to keep a finely honed control of the fight, which is going to fall apart as exhaustion sets in. This would be a good explanation for a change in his tactics that eventually push through a win for him, the choice to start taking some of the kinds of chances that he rarely takes in a fight, quick, stumbling advances that give homage to a Lycene style of fencing that pairs well with his almost-rapier, a degree of side to side movement that he rarely risks that gives him the ability to get around her guard. At one point he actually has to catch himself on one of the supports that hold up the ceiling. But it's enough; the victory isn't elegant, but it is, at the very least, a victory. "Fuck me," he gasps. "I'm out of shape."

"I thought the point of this, my lord, was training and getting into shape," points out Patrizio from the relatively cheap seats near the bar, the hoist of his glass - refilled, thanks to the staff of the Hart - and a chuckle slips free. "But a magnificent fight, and worthy of the sands here within the Hart."

Jan's eyes widen "...He's fucking winded" She nudges Patrizio with an elbow and points at the Pair "are you seeing this?"

Little, but determined the young woman pushes through the exhaustion and regrettable fabrics. Red faced and feeling like she's drowning in her armour, the woman feels the last few blows the most. It's like it almost happens in slow motion, yet everything goes by quickly. Her attention never drifts, it remains focused on Ian. When he implores that quick and elegant Lycene fighting style, Denica is throwing back like a thug. Bouts of aggression mixed with inevitable exhaustion. The man's victory brings her relief, she welcomes the sands as topples back. There's no attempt to fight it, rather she goes down. Dazed for a few moments, she smiles and makes no effort to get up. Rather, as she blinks her eyes, Denica takes a moment to catch her breath while blues sparkle. The woman sits in the sands and flashes a tired and sore grin at Ian. Then she gives him a nod, to thank him for the fight. Denica rolls her shoulders, wincing as she starts to settle her breathing. "I need a bottle of whisky and a swim in the Bay. I'm going to hurt tomorrow," she blinks.

Ian forces himself to make it to one of the tables on the edge of the ring before leaning all of his weight against it, rather than just drop. He waves his sword in a vague way in Denica's general direction. "I pronounce us both ready to face the Traitor's drunken swordsman conga line," he says dryly. "Someone else's turn, now." In the meantime, he's going to sit down. Right here at this table.

Ian has left the ring of valor.

Ian has joined the ringside table.

Cillian grin as he watches and spots Ian gasp, what how can this be! he chuckles looking over now as he hears Jan and Patrizio. "Good spar." he nods looking to Denica with a smile. "Well done." he drinks more of his glass.

Jan looks to Patrizio and grins "Want this dance, highness?"

"The pain reminds us that we're alive, your highness," Patrizio says with an easy smile to Denica as she's coming off the floor, the gentle gesture to the barkeeps as if to ensure that Ian and Denica are being attended to. "And I think I would be concerned if there was a.... conga line." The words tumble off the prince's lips with a little difficulty, though it's clear he's salving somewhat his inability to express himself with another taste of the potent potable, before he's waving his free hand to Jan. "While I might have some rust upon myself, General, I'm not of a mind to be taking to the sands myself this evening. For once, I've come but to enjoy the moment. As opposed to some of my family gatherings which've turned to barefisted melee."

Jan ahhhs and bobs her head and shrugs, "Cillian? Want to shake some dust off while my cousin catches his breath?"

Cillian looks to Patrizio, "You still ow me." he downs his drink and nods to Jan as he gets up, "Sure, its been a min since we last spar. You I am sure will own me." he smirks and heads off onto the sands.

Someone from the Hart's staff, no doubt remembering the days when he used to fight here, brings a carafe of water and a glass to Ian's table. He's in the middle of unbuckling his spaulder and lifting it from his arm so he can take his coat off, but lifts his chin in thanks.

There's a flask somewhere, so before the woman gets herself up from the sands, she finds it. Uncorking the top, the woman knocks back a good sip. Ian's dry comments are met with an equally dry laugh from Denica. "It's like a dance off-- with blades," she shrugs and seems like she'd be okay with this. Dusting herself off as she stands, the princess quirks her brows at Patrizio and lips smirk. "Like poetry," the woman says and she is lifting a hand up towards the bartender holding two fingers, like she wants two drinks. Undoubtedly both for her. Then she looks at Cillian as Jan asks, encouragingly to the both, "I'd be keen to see you both if you are inclined," she adds with an easy smile. Denica starts her way towards the bar, or where she might intercept her drink whilst tucking away her flask.

Trihy, an unassuming and dapper dressed man have been dismissed.

Haldir, a Rottweiler have been dismissed.

2 Blackwood trained guards have been dismissed.

Cillian has joined the ring of valor.

Jan scoffs "I doubt that, Lord Cillian but even if I'm wrong that isn't how you start a fight. I'm a proper fucking lady, damnit!" She grins crookedly "You gotta coax me properly before you whip your sword out! Give me some trash talk!" she prompts on her way to the arena sands.

Jan wields Turgid Defiance, an elegant alaricite sword.

"I hope you know I'm going to heckle you when you start sweating," Ian warns Jan, after stripping off his coat. He's pretty sweaty under it, enough so that the disfiguring scarring that covers his left arm can just barely be made out.

Patrizio sketches a bow to Denica when she's praising how he's put the matter. "I have my cousin Sebastian's example to live up to, when it comes to it. Should we of the Summer Seas not still have a hint of art within our souls, at least those of us who have souls?" This comes with the bob of his brows, and then the quaffing of his drink. And then the jade eyes turn to Jan and Cillian upon the sands.

Cillian wields Blade of stories.

Jan lifts an eyebrow "Gods, if that's the only thing I'm going lately that you can give me shit over you I've failed you, and myself." She pauses and her gaze sweeps over Ian's arm before resting on Cillian "When you're ready, lord Cillian."

Denica The arrival of her first drink is intercepted on her way to the bar, snatched up with paint-stained fingers. Twisting to watch Jan and Cillian make their way to the sands, Denica whistles at them with two fingers. Then she takes a sip of her drink, leaning against a table putting down her glass. Catching Patrizio's talk of art and soul, her lips curl into an appreciative smile. Canting her head to the side, "art is soul. We find it in all the things we are passionate about." There's a small nod as she manages a small reprieve before taking her seat again. Denica's demonstration part over and now she's keen to watch two others go at it.

Damien Pierce - A Charming Assistant, Biorna - The Protective Mastiff, Ellis Avonmore - Steward and First Mate arrive, following Mikani.

A fight has broken out here. Use @spectate_combat to watch, or +fight to join.

Cillian laughs as he gets out onto the sands, "Does your future husband know you talk like that." he winks and taunts her just a bit as his sword pulled, "I mean we not want your name to be tarnished Lady general." he smirks and rolls his shoulders as he nods to her reading himself watching her.

Mikani enters the arena, she didnt come to fight but to watch. Getting a drink from bar, she walks and takes a seat near someone she knows who is sitting.

"Countess." Patrizio lifts his glass briefly to Mikani as she's arriving, a smile offered even as he's contemplating Denica and Ian at their restorative drinks, and those jade eyes return to the action upon the sands.

Ian slumps in his chair and finishes off a glass of water while he turns all of his attention to the fight that's beginning.

Jan snorts "Are you kidding? He loves my smutty mouth and uncouth ways!" She lifts the tip of her sword up and approaches Cillian, "Well. Except when I burst into a fancy party and announce him like a Herald would. Hail Knight General Lord Pasquale Malespero! Tactical savant, scholarly phenom, dispenser of orgasms and wisdom!" in her best Herald's announcing voice "Then he apparently gets rather perturbed by it." Her grin is broad.

Jan attacks, cautious at first and then closing the distance and trying to press cillian.

"Would anyone care for a friendly wager?," Denica asks as she looks towards the sands. "The proceeds going to the Hart of course?," she sips on her drink, slipping back to lean against her chair. Then she looks around for a server and asks about some food to be brought out. Then something catches her attention, her brows loft upwards. Her attention snaps towards Jan, "Lady Jan?! You are getting married to to Pasquale?" This delights Denica! Oh, she looks enthusiastic. "Oh, this is cause for a celebration. What wonderful news." Denica proceeds to order sparkling wine of some sort, something Lycene and bubbly.

It's a good thing that Ian's drinking water and he's right next to the sands and not over any kind of expensive flooring, because after Jan's proposed heraldic description of Pasquale, he spits out his water and is left either laughing silently, coughing, or both.

Cillian laughs, its a hearty Northern laugh something many have not heard from him, he moves in with caution, "That poor man." he grins as he lift his sword up and moves in for the attack. Swords coming together to block one another, a few glancing blows but no real damage as his eyes are on her like a animal has its pray in sight stalking around her.

Jan grimaces "Fuck!" She gives Cillian an exasperated look "Not supposed to be telling, remember? C'mon, man!" She calls over her shoulder "Contract hasn't been signed! There's still plenty of time for one of us to fuck it up!" she assures Denica before doubling down on her effort to whack Cillian.

A grin finds Patrizio when there's mention of wagering with the proceeds going towards the establishment, and he lifts his glass, as if to catch Denica's eye. "What had you in mind upon it, given the intent of the funds going towards such a thing?" There's a chuckle that slips from him, and a more serious salute to Jan while she tussles with Cillian. "May the match go well, as all marriage matches ought, and may the negotiations not be too fraught as to overshadow the affection between you and he."

Despite Jan's cautions, Denica does not cease the coming celebratory wine. Rather she sips on her whisky, deciding to mask the pain from her bruises, with a morning's hangover. The woman relaxed into her chair, nearly flopped across it, enjoying a moment to relax after pushing herself early in the evening. But, the jubilant news brings a second wind of energy. Looking back at Patrizio, Denica lifts her shoulders up and drops. "I'm an artist with little need for money, I can match whatever you'd like or feel appropriate. It's a good cause. A donation in the winning better's name." The princess glances over at the pair, "I'd like to bet on the bride."

"GIven that neither of us seem to be suffering for it," offers Patrizio with a chuckle, even as he's turning his eye back upon the sands and... a breath slips from him. "A thousand silver, shall we say? But agreed, upon the winner's name by the loser, that we might honour their actions this evening. And obviously, if you are taking the general, I should take the good lord." Another sip of his whiskey, with the turn of a gaze to Ian and his water.

Mikani sips her juice to hide her giggle from Jan's Herald Impersonation. "May every wife crown their spouses as a dispenser of orgasims." She hollars out. "Go Cillian!" She calls out.

Jan says, "Everything will be fine as long as he agrees to bend knee to Kennex! Catalana's already suggesting baby names and suggesting walpaper for the old servant's quarter next to my room, it's a fucking mess." Ian can see it. The moment Jan pauses, weighs the pros and cons of keeping on the smart fight and just throwing caution to the wind and unsuprisingly she chooses 'fuck it' mode. She pivots and throws her arm wide with one pass and then brings them in close to try to dodge, trusting her armor more than anyone should before digging her heels into the sand and snapping her sword back out at Cillian's back. Depending on one's perspective it is either artless flailing or crafty trickery. Those who know her might recognize it for what it is: impatience and impertinence."

Ian is paying less attention to this fight than is usual for him; he's no longer choke-laughing, but now he's looking into his glass with a slight frown and a distant expression.

Cillian shakes his head, "Pssst M'lady I don't think its that much of a secret as you think." he winks and backs away from her, "Besides I did not give a name, you did." he is trying to keep Jan on her toes and moving, the first couple of swings he been able to move out of, but this time Jan gets him good, he sucks air over his teeth as he backs away and watches her, then he comes in again and gets hit again. Shake it off! he tries to refocus but something he said must have gotten Jan to hit him harder cause there is a soft sound, he did not realize Mikani was here and perhaps that through him for a moment. "You are loving every moment of it Jan."

Watching the fight, Denica agrees with Patrizio's suggestion with a nod. Curious brows loft upwards, when Jan talks about Pasquale bending to Kennex. A chuckle escapes her lips, she drinks with amusement. As the spar unfolds, the woman offers words of encouragement to Jan. "That's why you need a good fight!," she coaxes her along. Cillian's tease makes her chuckle, "he's got good strategy," she stages whispers to Patrizio about it all. The princess half closes her eyes, the food that arrives is meant for more than herself. "If anyone is hungry, this looks delicious," she says of the Hart's kitchens.

Mikani at the mention of food, Mikani moves to share in Denica's feast. "Ooooo I love these." She murmurs as she munches food and watches the fight. "Come on Blackwood. Get your head in the game!"

Jan says, "I don't care that people know we're involved but I am annoyed about news getting out before details are set but that's probably just my compulsive need to control shit. If this gets blown to shit I don't want to deal with a parade of sympathetic looky-loos coming to offer their sympathies or poke at my open wounds with a fucking stick." She groans "Don't mention food. PAsquale lured me to Lotties and ordered one of everything. Fucking handsome turd is diabolical."

"There's something to be said for a good fight. Stirring the blood and the like, in those right moments." This comes with a chuckle from the Pravusi prince when he's leaning back again, the glass set beside him atop the bar, and... his bows bob briefly when mention of strategy is made. "Though it's all what comes from the negotiations. Which are themselves a manner of combat, yes?" This comes with the hint of a glance towards Mikani, before his attention returns to the action.

Jan continues to move erratically. Sometimes she moves like she's dancing a jig, sometimes she's focused and serious but it's erratic and hard for Cillian to anticipate.

Cillian is rusty he really is and he is trying not to get his ass kicked but its not exactly working, she has changed her style up a bit and he has just not sparred in a while. "Spirits and Gods help me." he shakes his head as he tries to ruck her sword swings but she is quick, "You need to stop taken lessons from Ian." he gives a soft growl.

Cillian checks 'unconsciousness save' at hard. Cillian marginally fails.

Cillian is incapacitated and falls unconscious.

"Oh no you don't," Ian protests to Cillian from his table. "I blasted well didn't teach her that."

Mikani glances to Patrizio, "A combat of wits or cooperation. Depends upon how you look at negotiations." Mikani murmurs before standing up as Cillian falls. "Yeah Ian hates the jig. He's more a tango man." She laughs as she watches to make sure that Cillian is okay.

Jan grunts and turns her shoulder and takes the blow , turning into io his arm and levelling a good open swing giving a cackle "OH gods! You owe my cousin an apology for that insult!" She tries to duck and is knocked back but digs one heel back and rocks forward driving forward in a swing across cillian's flank.

Patrizio tips his glass towards Mikani. "I like the thought of it as a dance, both on the sands in other manners. To have the right rhythm is what matters, to know the steps of the thing and see it through." Though that Cillian's keeling over comes with a soft sigh, and then a chuckle, the shake of his head as his attention turns to Denica. "It seems, your highness, you've the better of me this evening when push comes to shove on the matter of the wager. I'll see to it that you've money in your honour conveyed to the Hart."

"I promise no sympathy, Jan.," Denica vows with a wry expression on her features. The server arrives with the sparkling wine and glasses. A subtle celebration. But first, applause for the fight. "Well done, Jan and Cillian," she says enthusiastically. Patrizio is met with a smile, "I will add to the donation, it's been a lovely night and the Hart has taken care of us well," she says opting for her glass of wine now.

Jan yanks her helm off and shakes her short, damp curls loose. She points at Ian "Don't judge me, it worked. Maybe not poetry in motion but as a merc I learned to get the damn job DONE!" she tosses her head and ooos "Share some of that water?" She whips around and points at Denica "No pity or bringing some young dumb buck for me to ride either."

Mikani sips her juice as she takes a seat again. "I know that fighting is not a dance, but dance does help certain fighting styles." She glances at Ian. "Or I should say it has helped me with smaller weapons."

Ian nudges the carafe of water towards Jan. "You'd get it done with fewer bruises if you didn't try to bull rush your way through and just take everything on the chin. Roll with some of the hits next time, see how that goes for you." He is Not Commenting on the intermingling between fighting and dance, but it's a very loud, pointed sort of silence.

Jan is overheard praising Denica.

Cillian is okay maybe his pride is a bit bruised but nothing major, that man has been through worse then this. "Good fight." he looks over at Ian and grins, "Someone been teaching her cause, she has improved." he looks over, "Countess, hello I do hope all is well and so are the pack?" he moves to grab another drink and moves to sit down.

Denica is overheard praising Jan: Well fought!

Jan nods and admits "I know but truth is I've sacrificed some training hours spooning and working on a mapping project and Cillian and I were evenly matched. I don't believe in fair fights-do you?"

Denica is overheard praising Cillian: Fancy Footwork!

Jan says, "Well fought, cillian. If I wasn't honorless scum you'd have worn me down."

Denica is overheard praising Ian: Best prepared to fight a drunken swordsman conga line.

"The beauty of having such a place for a spar to happen, and having an audience for such things." Patrizio's glass is raised to Jan and Cillian, then to Denica and ian, before he sips. "And I appreciate the sentiment, your highness. Though I think we've all Lord Ian to thank for having put the thought of this in our minds." The jade eyes turn to Cillian, before he bows his head. "Next time, my lord, you'll have the better of her."

Taking a sip of wine and having nibbled on a variety of snacks, the evening and the heat is wearing on Denica. The woman scrunches her face to fight back a yawn and she smiles at everyone. "That was a fun night. I enjoyed it. I'm glad I stumbled across you all," she says sincerely. "It was nice to fight and drink and just be." Denica stands up to the short height, adjusting her dress and forgoing her coat. "I think I will go for a swim and sleep really well," she grins at that, dipping her crown a little as she bows off. "Be well everyone, and safe."

Jan is overheard praising Cillian.

Ian has by now put his armor away and wrapped his sword back up. His shirt is still sweaty when he rises to return to the bar, and he's probably going to start stinking if he doesn't go wash off sometime in the near future, but apparently he's decided to have another drink first.

Jan wanders towards the bar to get some clean water. Ian gets a sidelong study before adding "I know improving my odds isn't the same as honing skill. I'll keep working away at my edge." she promises.

A breath's drawn and released as Patrizio settles, finally, on a stool by the bar, though it's not long for actually resting on all four feet while he's watching Ian as he's packing up his gear. "Both matter, though. Improving odds and honing skill. Because the gods know that if one doesn't save you, the other will. I find that we all find reasons to further encourage the odds in our favour." This comes with a smile, and a mindful consideration too of Cillian and Mikani where they rest.

Cillian rubs his side, its going to bruise he knows its going too, "I still need a lot of work into swords, I have been a bow person most my life and now learning blades, it just feels off at times. I almost have to fight the urge to throw it at someone." he chuckles.

Ian shakes his head. "Just don't lean into every hit." He gestures to the bartender and is delivered a glass of whiskey. "There's stuff out there that hits blasted hard." Then he studies Cillian for a moment. "You still have the footwork of a bowman," he says after a moment. "That's not something I can teach very well, but finding an instructor who can would probably help your performance."

Jan nods to Ian "Fair point." She frowns gently "We agreed Pasquale's going to be my CO in the field and no matter what he says I damn well know if I don't want to get benched I better damn well prove I'm not going to come back tore up or I won't see battle ever fucking again." She points out "You could teach him how to make the pointy bit more hazardous to come anywhere near?"

Mikani smiles at Cillian, "I can help with footwork." She murmurs before she drink more of her juice. She raises an eyebrow at Jan's statement but keeps her mouth closed.

Ian raises his eyebrows to Jan. "So is the marriage thing behind the weird questions I've been getting from him about who Aethan's 'heir' is and who runs Kennex if he dies tomorrow?"

A groan slides from Patrizio as he's righting the stool beneath him, and a few coins are left behind on the bar, before he muses softly, "I think, my lords and ladies, it's time for me to make my way out. Please, I pray, be good with each other, and we'll doubtless all cross paths soon."

Cillian looks to Patrizio, "Your Highness, do let me know when you have some free time I have something I wish to talk with you about." he then looks to Mikani and smiles, "I would like that, thank you Countess. "

Jan bobs her head and waves to PAtrizio "Until next time, Highness!"'

Jan's eyebrows loft and she looks a bit taken aback "Fuck. I guess so. Apparently Aethan offered him Minister of war if Pasquale agrees to join Kennex. I won't lie, it stung when you mentioned Kennex needing a tactical mastermind like it didn't have a GOOD fucking general but..." She puffs out her cheeks "There is a big difference between the shit Pasquale's commanded against and what I have so turns out you were right and so." she smiles wryly "I suppose he's concerned about who he'd be bending knee to if something happens to Aethan.

Ian gives Jan a vague shrug. "There's a difference between you or Aethan leading on land or water and someone like Wash at sea or Lord Pasquale on land. And the gods only know, we could stand to have someone in the family with the kind of land-based tactical experience that Wash has for the water."

Jan nods once "Agreed. Which is why I agreed to accept his command when he joins even if it's been a LONG time since I answered to anyone in battle." She shakes her head a bit and snorts "And you think we fight a lot now. This should be stimulating."

A smile from the prince, before he's making his way out, the sextet of soldiers following in his wake.

3 First Legion Centurions, 3 Setarcan Royal Shields leave, following Patrizio.

Ian lifts one hand. "Long as I don't have to be in the middle of it. I'm just a soldier."