Dragons, Dystopians, and Denial

Elias couldn't help but give Jerica a long, sad look.

"I wish I knew," he said almost too quietly. "I was beginning to think I didn't have one."

He thought back to the night he stumbled in the dark through the corridors, right before he came to Beirania. He had figured it out. He had figured out that if he took enough of the drugs, locked himself in a room with no other way out, and did it when no one else could hear him, his body's survival mode wouldn't be able to access the cells it needed, and he could truly not live a life with a purpose he didn't agree with.

“Well...” She felt bad for him. It seemed like they had more in common than she’d like to admit. “My purpose is to get you to Crevon in one piece. Maybe we can find your purpose along the way.”

"I would like that," Elias said with a breath of relief. As tough as it was, he was glad he had this conversation with Jerica.

They were both misunderstood.

But this wasn't about him. This was her world and she had a real problem that will continue to haunt her in the future, even during their travel to Crevon.

"And... I know we don't know each other that well or that long," he began slowly, "but you're a better friend to me than all of my other comrades."

He offered her a small smile. "Even though you threw a cup at my face."

Jerica laughed despite herself. “You earned that one.”

She stretched her back and looked up at the sky.

“We’ll need a guarded place to make camp. Keep an eye out.” She was going to be the one who found a good spot. They probably both already knew that. But it gave her an excuse to pretend like she had someone else she was as looking for as she avoided his gaze. “I don’t know much about friends. But you’re kinder to me than anyone else. It’s... nice.”

Elias nodded, still with the small smile across his face. It was nice to be around someone who shared the same sentiments for once. It was nice to feel more like himself, it was nice to be under the sunny sky, and it was nice to be around someone who cared. They weren't in a 'lucky' situation by any means, but Elias sure felt lucky.

"Well... I try," he said with a slight shrug. "The bar isn't set that high, though, is it?"

“I wouldn’t know.” She felt her mood getting heavy again. “You’re the only one who seems to find being near me easy. Maybe the bar is easier for you to lift than most.” She forced a playful smile. “Kind of like my cup.”

Elias snorted and then let out a short laugh. It felt almost foreign to laugh again, but it felt nice... even though it felt more out of a place to relieve stress than to express appreciated humor.

"Well, I certainly hope the bar becomes heavier than a cup," he said, offering her an appreciative smile. "But isn't as dangerous as your sword, because I can barely handle the wooden one."

"That's a good point." Jerica looked at him, grateful for the excuse to get away from this conversation. His response was confusing but nice. But she was much comfier with things she was actually good at. "We should start breaking your training up into chunks so you can get better faster. Don't have the luxury of taking our time with your training. Grab your sword."

Elias's smile faded, but he nodded as Jerica switched topics. Well, it was actually him who switched topics, but it was in an attempt of a joke. He didn't think they'd evolve to practicing sword fighting after this conversation, but if that was what she wanted to do, he would be happy to oblige. He just had to disassociate the memories of what happened beforehand... when Jerica was in the town, swinging her sword and dagger. It was something he never liked doing or was completely used to doing, but he learned to put up with it anyways, and he had to do it again.

There was no time for sad self-pity or grieving, especially if the men she killed were nameless in his head. He would be content if the grief only lasted in his dreams.

"Okay," he said, and then unhooked the wooden swords from Mellie's back. He tossed Jerica's over to her. "Is now a good time to do this, though?"

Who knew who else may be following them?

"Yeah," Jerica rolled her shoulder. Her arm was still sore from fighting the Nykerians, but they needed to get Elias fast-tracked to becoming at least baseline competent, even though they didn't have time to make him good. "Femola won't follow us into Swaltou without reinforcements. I could handle the rest of the squadron he had with him. And soldiers aren't particularly well liked by outlaws. He'll come looking for me, but it won't be soon. All we've got to worry about are the criminals."

She smirked at her joke but wasn't sure how it was received.

"Besides, I'm sore now, so it'll make it easier for you." She cracked her back and then settled into position. "Get set."

She watched as he stepped forward and lifted his sword. "Mm-mm, widen your stance and angle your right hip more towards me."

Jerica waited as he... tried... to get into a proper position.

"I think blocking is a more important skill for you than striking," she said with a nod, talking out loud as she made up her mind. "If you can only do one or the other. So we'll focus on that."

Jerica rolled her shoulder again. She was still so sore. Battles always took a physical toll in addition to the emotional damage. She took a deep breath and looked at him -- but instead, she saw a Nykerian, throat sliced and crumpling to the ground.

She blinked hard, shaking the image from her mind. She glanced down at her sword. It was wooden. She looked back at her opponent. It was Elias. You have to teach him to stay alive.

"Last night I had you practicing with a single block. But blows never come one at a time. We'll work on getting you worked up to two. So, you know what to do if I bring my sword down like this." She slowly brought her sword down to strike his with a gentle crack. "But if this were a real battle, I'd drag my blade down the length of yours like this, then make a pass at your ribs."

She walked through each of the moves slowly.

"To block me just twist your sword like..." She stepped forward and grabbed his wrist, turning his blade like she meant. "That way when I come back like this towards your ribs, you'll have a way to block me."

"So it'll be a one--" She brought her sword down slowly, then twisted it and made a pass for his ribs, being sure she moved slowly enough that he'd be able to manage it. "Two."

She made him use two hands on his sword, but felt lazy and was only making single-handed passed at him. She was too tired to make an earnest effort -- and this way gave Elias a better shot at blocking her blows. And, helped her swing it more slowly and softly, so that when he missed her blade, she didn't whack him quite as hard.

Although she didn't pull her blows altogether. He needed something to motivate him to do a better job.

They settled in an easy pattern of two strikes. Well, easy for her. He seemed to work in an arch -- when they first started he missed a fair number of her strikes, as time went on he missed fewer, and then once they'd been going a while he started missing more of them. Probably getting tired. New recruits always tended to tire quickly, since they weren't used to working the muscles needed to swing a sword, even if they were strong in general.

Jerica was getting bored.

She started glancing around the area as she made her blows towards him and then waiting for him to get re-set for her to launch another attack. The woods were pretty here. There was far too much space in between them for her to even consider making camp here -- she wanted a rocky outcrop where she'd only need to defend one or two sides of them -- but pretty.

A prickle ran down her spine, the distinct feeling that someone was nearby. Her eyes glanced around the area again, mid-swing, as she tried to find the offender. Her gaze landed on a scruffy-looking man nearing her horses. This time, instead of making another pass at Elias's side, she threw the sword to her left hand and grabbed the dagger in her belt.

In a fluid motion, she flung it through the air and lodged it in the tree mere inches from the man's face. His eyes went wide and he whirled around to face her.

"Nothing in there for you." She took a threatening step towards him, in case he decided to try to snatch a saddlebag and run. She wasn't in the mood to chase anyone down.

"Not too scared of your wooden sword, lil miss," he scoffed, taking another step closer to the horses.

She threw the wooden sword down as she strode towards him, grabbing the pommel of her sword and pulling it a few inches out of the scabbard, but making no effort to actually draw it. "Oh, you prefer the sharp version?"

The man's eyes flicked towards the saddlebags again.

"Go ahead. Touch it," she said threateningly. "I dare you."

"I'm hungry," the man whined.

"Go kill a rabbit, then." She was only a few lunges away from him now so she could grab him easily if he decided to make poor choices. "Like I said, nothing in there for you."

"I ain't scared of you." The man squared his shoulders, resting his hand on his own sword.

"You should be."

"Ain't no woman who can scare me."

"Can't think of even one?" she asked sarcastically. "From Atraya, about this tall." She gestured at her own height. "Pretty good with swords."

The man's eyes went wide again as they flicked between her and Elias. "You ain't no princess..."

She barely kept from cringing. That was a detail she'd happily left out of the story she'd told Elias. She hadn't lied about anything -- the fact that she was the niece of the king didn't change what he'd done to her or made her do -- but somehow she had the feeling that that was gonna come up again.

Instead, she raised an eyebrow in a silent challenge.

"I ain't scared of you," he reiterated, but he was already retreating. "I'm just going off to get that rabbit you suggested. Stew sounds better than your ol' stale bread anyway."

"Happy Hunting," she spat, letting her sword fall the rest of the way back in its scabbard. After the man had gotten well away from them she yanked the dagger from the tree and slid it back in her belt.

Jerica turned back towards Elias. "Let's eat some of our Ol' stale bread and hit the road. We can pick up training later this evening after you've had a chance to rest."

Elias silently watched the exchange between Jerica and the man, and he'd be lying if he said he didn't get at least a little anxious. He was glad that he left without a violent dispute, though. As much as Jerica hated that her identity was well-known, it could be a good thing for instances like this when she could simply state who was and then they'd run away with their tail between their legs.

He nodded, picked up her wooden sword, and walked back towards Mellie, arms a bit sore from swinging the sword around. He stuck the swords back at their rightful place and then dig around the saddlebag for some ol' stale bread. He tore off a loaf and extended his arm to offer it to her.

"Here you go, my princess," he said in an attempt of a joke, but the delivery came out dead-pan. It was going to get some getting used to telling jokes again.

Jerica reached for the bread but faltered as he addressed her. She couldn't tell if it was sarcasm -- like he didn't believe she was actually a princess -- or if he was accusing her of hiding her true identity from him. Or maybe it was both at once. His tone didn't give any indication.

"Right, tiny detail I might have left out." Jerica took the bread and hauled herself on top of Evan. "Is that the idiot king I mentioned -- Levin -- is, uh... Levin Ainsley, actually. Who might or might not be my uncle." She took a bite of the bread and chewed twice, talking past it when she spoke again. "And I swear to the gods I will beat the snot out of you if you start calling me 'princess'."

Elias lifted himself up on to Mellie's back like he had done it a million times before even though he knew he could still be better at balancing himself. He stared at Jerica while taking a few bites of the bread, her words slowly seeping in.

He only called her princess as a joke because he figured it was a term of endearment that annoyed her. But she was an actual a princess? ...

He didn't know too much about royalty history, but he had heard enough to know that it was like a government, and it was mostly by bloodline.

"So... you're a literal princess?" he asked after swallowing, giving her a long look.

Ah, so he hadn't actually suspected. Played that hand too soon, didn't I?

"I mean, technically, yeah." She shrugged. "Like I grew up in the palace, or whatever, but I wasn't groomed to be married off for a political alliance like most princesses are. I was trained to be a killer. And of all the things people call me, Princess is a fairly rare choice."

Elias lingered his gaze at her mostly out of disbelief. He just needed a second to process this.

"Don't princesses wear dresses and crowns?" he asked in a faraway voice, trying to think back upon the storybooks he read when he was a kid. Those were few and far between anyways. "And grow up to be a queen?"