Gideon of Scotland Yard

the side of the platform. “I, Gideon of the great Crimson Sword Clan, will battle whoever and win the love of the elegant Vivian!” The woman, Vivian, merely gives him a dull look and dismisses him with her eyes. Jet black hair cascades down her back, complimenting her ivory skin and haughty, upturned eyes. Next to me, a man leans into his friend, “Someone ought to teach this guy a lesson. He’s way too arrogant for his own good.” “If only he weren’t a member of one of the empire’s noble clans,” his friend replies, “then he would have been put in his place by now.” Gideon’s eyes are wild with passion, so sure of his own strength, as he surveys he crowd. “No challengers?” After a moment of silence, he takes a step towards Vivian in excitement. “See how no one dares to interfere with our love? I’ll have each of our clan leaders set up a marriage meeting. It will all work out perfectly.” Gideon doesn’t seem to notice the young man who has stepped onto the platform. Wearing faded and worn out robes, he wields nothing but his own fists, a determined expression on his face. “Sorry to break the news to you, but your love was not meant to me,” the young man says. He has tan skin kissed by the sun with soft brown curls bound by the headband tied around his forehead. I hear murmuring amongst the crowd. “Is this guy crazy?” The man next to me says, eyebrows furrowing, “That challenger must not know what kind of clan Gideon has backing him up.” Gideon sneers at the poorly dressed…