"Have you ever heard where women dominate men and govern a domain?" giving a speech, as I scream on the top of my lungs.

I encapsulate the ears of the people where their attention comes in a swift fashion to verify the view of my existence. During my passionate rhetoric, my throat is starting to hurt. Thus, in order to subsist my poise and my composure, I judge to utilize my writings on my hand to fold it in a cylindrical form. Using it to increase the output of my expatiation.

"Look over there! Beyond the seas, you can find them hiding..." where the voice coming from my mouth amplifies, delivering the message upon the mass.

This town is infamous for being a retentionist domain. Şaß (Shass) Barony, Grand City of Veditibur (We-di-ti-boor)(translation: They will be seen...), Northern Marches, Electorate and Archduchy of Grace, Empire of Inglovia, Caliphate and Grand Empire Of Inglovia. Or in short, Şaß, Veditibur, Northern Marches, Grace, Inglovia, Inglovia and that's the address. Llewellyn's favorite pastime, and certainly will be, is sentencing the death penalty to the masses for no definite reason. Şaß is shifting towards a graveyard place rather than a progressive town. And when he is doing his daunting deeds, he comes here frequently to enjoy the scene of punishing the lives under his grip.

"To the north?" shouts the man among the audience, where he jabs his finger at the wrong coordinates.

My aft faces the north which is where Kehina is situated. The man whom he shouted brimming with audacity pointed at his left axis ninety degree with his left hand and in my point of view, which is the starboard side - the west, per se.

"Yes, my friend. About a couple of thousand steps to the shore. Then, a month of voyage." I reply, answering the inquiry of the man by the measurement in estimation.

Pillories, shackles and chains for the one who are convicted by suspicion and venial punishment. Guillotine and lapidation befit for the idiosyncratic ones who dare to defy the reign of the incumbent… the dissidents, prisoners-of-war of the recent battles, apprehended assassins, ecclesiastical rivals, displaying craven traits among the ranks during the post-battle, and retrieved shadows from domestic and foreign jurisdictions; in accordance to Lord Ameniah's shadow's news.

In the first years of Emperor Llewellyn's tenure, Inglovia was engulfed in purging and terror. An ultimate reformer loathed by many even his family and distant relatives feared his iron fist bureaucracy. Every male coming-of-age (human, demi-, or inhumane) will serve the Crown for the price of a marriage. Llewellyn have had only granted people with honors and feats during extinguishing insurrections and warfare outside his dynasty. He shares leniency and adulation towards people who are bellicose and glory hounds while he frowns in a mild way upon revisions and to the masses who question his temporal influence within the walls of Inglovia - visible or imaginary.

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"My brother. Why don't you join us to the cause of making this nation a little bit better? Inglovia pioneers pluralism and champions as well cosmopolitanism. People of you, outside 'Aslab', deserve something, do you not?" cajoling, as I present him to act under his volition.

"We; the defenders of the proto-Romullan faith, the descendents of Romulla, the inhabitants of Şaß, are grateful to your offered hand. However, words alone can be pleasing not in a supple way. We, including myself, understood you to be a bard, a poet, or a minstrel, or whatever you call yourself. We can not vouch for your purported importance." answers the man, representing for his clan and for the mass.

"So, what can I do to assert what I've stated?" rebutting, as I find myself to approve of their assurance.

"A brother from another origin. I, myself, as a 'Croisian' and from sacerdotal caste, was inducted here to this dwelling place to seek refuge and to circumvent prosecution from the wrath of the Caliph." says the man, claiming, who sports the same hairstyle - undercut both of his temples and a long hair tail from his middle reaching to his back.

"Brethren of Şaß, we have a similar adversary which is the Grand Emperor himself! How do I get in?" as I reiterate the aforementioned statement.

"A blood oath, my brother. The only way to prove one's sentiment. Not by words but by deeds." the representative speaks, responding to my namesake statement.

As a pacifist, I have never had a blade on my hands for several years now. My tongue is my sword. My prudence is my defense. I challenge them into an ultimatum to counteract what they have issued. Not by a duel by the sword neither hewing blood of the enemies nor completing an errand to assassinate a figure. Raw strength.

"Alright then, we will do it your way. As long as you plight to your heart. To compete in a chivalrous way to what Romullans do." as to conform by the stipulation given.

One-by-one, they pile up in a line. An arm wrestling competition against three of the best foes that they will ever present. One down, two to go. Before the umpire hoists his hand, I exploit the fact that human reflexes would react a second and a thirty-seventh I'm a hundred. (1.37s). No unique reactions coming from them, as if nothing happens or such occurrence is very common.

"Next!" the man shouts, as for preparing the contender.

I place my arm. Right elbow on the cushion. Clinching the position and the right angle of my arm, as I grab the pole on my weak side with my recessive hand. The soft spot where the elbows can lie is from the middle and there are two hand poles for the competitors to handle - the left stand and the right stand. My opponent does the same, however, in an inverted position. As I would assume he is in the wrong hand position, he is well-built… good quality-quantity muscle ratio. He is probably a quarter elf based on how pointy his ears are. Brown eyes, a typical human trait, can be found. The shape of the face is the same as of a human's details... wider but not as broad as what dwarves have. The bridge of the nose is not as sharp as it would be. An increment of distinction whether one can tell if it is a human or an elf without the physical semblance of sharp-pointed ears.

"Hi, we welcome you here at Şaß." calls the man, who is particularly hybrid, and who will be on par with me.

I nod my head where I acknowledge his heed and I whisper unto him: "I am grateful." as I put a smile and then retract it back into a serious mood.