Young Writers Society

Tigad

The king was almost to his study when a servant caught up to him, out of breath from running. Tigad stopped and let the servant catch his breath before signaling him to speak.

"A message from Princess Ceria, Your Majesty. She wishes to see General Tathiel."

"Does she?" Tigad quickly ran the request through his mind. It wasn't entirely unexpected -- they were engaged, after all -- but it would be inconvenient to arrange... Then again, if he were to deny such a request, he might raise the princess's suspicion, and that couldn't happen. Not yet. Besides which, it would help allay Neserada's suspicions, if they had any, and bring the General within Acotegs borders, which in turn would make it easier to deal with Tathiel...

"Tell her I will send for him straightaway."

The servant bowed quickly before departing, and Tigad entered his study, briskly heading for his desk where he drafted a letter informing King Ghia of how Acoteg had rescued his daughter from the hands of some mercenaries, that she was currently alive and healing from her injuries, that Acoteg would be more than happy to return her once she was fully recovered, and requesting the presence of General Tathiel.

Tigad waited only long enough for the ink to dry before he folded the letter and sealed it, ringing for a servant to send the letter straightaway to Neserada by the swiftest means possible. This done, the king went off to find Joram to inform the man of the slight change of plans.

The king found a happy-looking Joram draped over Emilian in some fairly deserted halls, the latter looking a bit exasperated with his companion's antics. A young woman was walking away, already out of earshot. It was quite convenient really, since he could inform both generals directly and get any input quickly from Emilian -- the younger general always had been adept at crafting plans and finding flaws in them -- without having to worry about eavesdroppers.

"Generals," Tigad called when he was still a fair distance away. Joram wasn't known for his fondness for surprises.

"Your Majesty." The two generals turned around and gave curt bows.

"There has been a slight change of plans. I have sent for General Tathiel, who happens to be the princess's current fiance, and he should be arriving soon. Emilian, I expect you to keep him entertained and out of the way when he arrives. Allow him to visit Ceria at least once. However, shortly after his arrival, the castle will be beset by mercenaries attempting to reabduct the princess."

Joram's eyes lit up, and a grin slowly snaked its way across his face.

Tigad allowed himself a small grin in return. "Of course, General Tathiel would be involved in the fight to keep his beloved safe. Unfortunately, however, he will be slain in the fighting. By a stray arrow, perhaps. In any case, I leave that part up to you, Joram. So long as he's dead, it doesn't matter."

"Thank you, Your Majesty."

Emilian looked thoughtful. "If it isn't too bold of me, I think the General may be of more use to us alive."

"How so?"

"Ransom for one. Also, if he could be turned to our side..."

An intriguing idea, the latter, but, "Could you turn him?" Tigad looked between his generals, and found Joram grinning even more widely than before.

"That I can do with ease, my king."

"Very well then. We will need a body double in that case, to show to the Princess."

"Easily arranged, if you don't mind setting part of the castle on fire," supplied Joram, all-too cheerfully.

"..." Tigad looked long and hard at the elder general. He was loth to let any part of his castle burn, but it would simplify the body double matter... "Just make sure there are no valuables or people inside at the time."

"Of course!" said Emilian.

"In that case, I leave things to you both. Do not disappoint me." With that Tigad left, heading to the throne room to hear petitions, something he had been putting off all day.

Joram
He only peered up a bit as the girl came around, eyes narrowing but his posture remaining unchanging, arm still around Emilian. Had she heard? Ah. No matter. He hadn't said anything that would compromise anything. He smoothed his frown away, lazily smiled at her, shrugged.

Good thing she didn't seem to be particularly interested in his answer. She was already walking away when the familiar voice rang behind them. Joram finally disantangled himself from Emilian, turned to bow and peered at Tigad.

"However, shortly after his arrival, the castle will be beset by mercenaries attempting to reabduct the princess."

And started smiling.

And didn't stop.

Times like these were what he lived for. And how kind of the king to bring him such an opportunity. And how nice of the little bird too, he supposed. She'd probably been the one to request Tathiel's presence. He'd have to go and thank her, eventually. Tigad was the one offering him Tathiel's head though. That counted for something.

"Thank you, Your Majesty." Heartfelt, and uttered with the utmost sincerity. He was fairly thrumming with excitement.

And then Emilian spoke, and if he hadn't liked the man already this would have been enough to clinch the deal.

He held his excitement for the moment, though the grin was not to be hidden. Why should he, anyway?

"Could you turn him?" the king asked, and the answer, naturally, was a smooth "That I can do with ease, my king."

And if he could get license to do as he wanted... He held still under Tigad's hard gaze, composed himself, and tamped down on the triumph that welled at the implicit agreement.

Both Emilian and him were silent as the king departed, but it was not long before Joram was again by his friend's side.

"You always get the most delightful ideas, Emilian." A shared smile, wide from Joram's part, smaller but just as sincere from Emilian.

"I did think you would appreciate getting to play with Tathiel a bit." A considering glance. "Fire, you said?"

"Best way to prevent identification and hide evidence. Ideas?"

"Flour explodes."

Joram grinned. "As well as easy to find. Whatever would I do without you?"

"Irritate the king and get your charming self reprimanded, perhaps?"

He laughed. "You know I've been good lately. And why would I ever anger His Royal Highness when he is being so kind to me?"

Another long-suffering look from Emilian, though given with good humour, and he grinned.

They'd kept on walking, and somehow had found their way to a smaller courtyard. Joram blinked back under the sun's sudden glare, tilted his head back to drink in the light, for a moment looking absolutely blissful. Then a flutter of wings prompted him to peer up, and he laughed, a low sound that lingered over the warm stones. "Look up, Emilian."

He pointed to the window above them. "Our little bird talks to the doves. Charming, isn't she?"

Fanchon

This exchange between the princess and that dimwit is beginning to worry me...Nonetheless, I must continue to carry their messages. It's in the job description. The look on my Ceria's face scared me. It was so full of worry and...fear. Fear is not something I'm used to seeing on the face of my Ceria. I taught her well; she's a good fighter! Maybe more so than myself...right, Like anyone could take me in a fight. The thought alone is implausible and humorous.

Thanks for keeping Emilian alive for me, guys! Also - Stella, if I portrayed Lyss wrong, tell me and I'll fix it. ^^

Emilian

"Our little bird talks to the doves. Charming, isn't she?"

Through the blinding sun Emilian could make out the figure of Princess Ceria, playing with a dove. He wasn't so sure it was charming as he suspected it was dangerous. Something about the dove struck Emilian as...off, to say the least. There was something about the way the bird glanced around, the grace with which it flapped its wings.

It wasn't normal.

At all.

"Something wrong?" Joram asked.

Emilian frowned. He'd investigate that matter in a while. Right now Joram was in a good mood, and Emilian didn't like spoiling people's moods. Unless said people were the enemy, but that was a different matter altogether. "Nothing. Just a feeling," Emilian said.

"A feeling?" Joram tilted his head to the side, slightly curious but not enough to prod further. A noncommittal response should serve to satisfy the older general's question.

"I think it's the weather," Emilian said. No need to trouble Joram with something so trivial. It probably meant nothing anyway. It was just that...as far as Emilian knew, princesses and pets often spelled trouble. He wasn't quite sure how much trouble a dove could be, but it was always best to play on the safer side of the field.

"The weather's perfect today. Don't get sick now. We've got a big event coming up!" With that, Joram strode off in the other direction.

For a minute Emilian panicked, wondered if Joram was going to blow up half the castle as a test for the actual thing. Took five deep breaths, then relaxed. Probably not. The king would never allow it. Then where was Joram headed? Maybe to Callista, Tigad's illegitimate daughter. Someone had to keep that girl in check. Or maybe Joram wanted to plan ahead of time. The second was more likely.

Emilian continued to watch the tiny window where the princess was as the dove fluttered away from her. Coincidentally, it seemed to be headed towards Neserada. Could that dove be used against Acoteg in any way? Emilian's stomach churned. No. This was Acoteg's time. Nothing could - nothing should - ruin this.

Emilian massaged his forehead and headed towards the princess's room. He needed to talk to her, perhaps charm an answer or two out. He knocked on the large oak door softly, but when no answer came, Emilian realized he needed some other way to get through to the princess.

Who was he kidding? Asking the princess straight out - or even trying to talk it out of her - would only serve to raise her suspicions, and she might alert Tathiel to the nosy general in Acoteg. Besides, if Emilian even wanted to have a nice conversation with her, he ought to clean himself up first. No point in rushing into things.

Just as he turned to leave, the princess burst out of her room, looking a bit ruffled. She glanced left and right, met Emilian's inquisitive gaze, then frowned at his clothes.

"You. Can you find me some company?" she asked.

She must have mistaken him for a gardener or something of the like. He didn't blame her. The dried blood caked on his shirt was dark enough to pass for mud now. Combined with the actual mud stains near it, Emilian certainly knew he looked as if he'd been crawling through dirt all day.

"Yes, my lady," Emilian said, bowing lower than a general of his caliber was required to. It was, however, perfect for a gardener deferring to an honored guest. He turned away only after she'd returned to her room, as etiquette dictated for lower servants, and straightened himself, wondering where the hell he would get someone who could watch the princess well and keep her happy at the same time.

Ceria certainly didn't seem like the low-maintenance type.

He strolled along the halls, musing to himself. Who in the world could keep that little hothead down? He certainly couldn't plunk her down with one of the lesser generals - that would cause an uproar. A scandal. And it would trigger the war at once. Joram would like that, though.

Too bad Emilian was far more tactful. He wished he could spark the war for Joram, but it wouldn't do anyone good if Joram got killed. Or if everyone in the nation was burned to death. Emilian didn't quite put anything past Neserada. That filthy nation always overshadowed Acoteg, and Emilian was perfectly sure Neserada cheated to get there.

Used to be Acoteg was the glorious motherland. His great-grandfather often spoke of those days. But it had been seventy years since Neserada took over as the world's wealthiest country. Emilian was sure of it - it was Acoteg's time now.

"General!" chirped a cheery voice. "The new recruits are doing great! I think they'll be ready for a war tomorrow. What do you think? This is the best platoon we've had yet, right?"

Emilian knew at once it was Lyss. Anyone else walking through the halls would leave echoes of their footsteps, boots or shoes clacking on tiles. The girl always liked walking around barefoot. The king found it mortifying. So did the army's physician. Joram didn't particularly care, as long as Lyss could fight. Maybe there was something wrong with Emilian for finding it amusing.

Emilian nodded in response to her question and waited for her to come up to him. She was as dirty as he was. It was part of the job description. She ought to be a general by now, and it was a bit unfair that most of the other generals thought less of her for being a girl. Emilian would support the girl, but she didn't seem to have any intention of becoming a general.

She was perfect for the job. He could deal with the king later, if ever the king got upset as to why Emilian was assigning a woman to look after Ceria. Emilian knew how to deal with the king.

"Are you busy these days, Lyss?" Emilian asked with a smile playing on his lips.

She raised an eyebrow. "Why? Do you want me to organize a fair?"

"No." Sometimes it was difficult to talk to Lyss. She was so...urgh. I" have...something for you to do. I'm sure you've heard of the rumors about the Neseradean princess?"

She half-shrugged. "Maybe, maybe not." Her smile stretched wide. She was clearly in a good mood.

"I know you've heard something."

"Then why'd you have to ask if you knew?"

The more Emilian thought about it, the odder it seemed to him. With him, every conversation took an almost formal tone. With her, the opposite happened. Did that make their conversation formal or informal? Or perhaps it was too strange to categorize?

Definitely had to be the last one.

"Lyss, I need a favor from you. And it involves the princess."

Lyss

"The princess?" Lyss cocked her head. "So are you saying she is in the palace then?"

Emilian looked around to see if anybody was around. "Yes," he said in a low voice.

"See, there's no use keeping secrets from me. I'll find out anyway, besides, the kitchen staff already told me why she was here-"

"What?" That was a little louder than his last comment.

"That she's. Y'know. Here to teach some traditional Neseredan cuisine." But she didn't mention the hordes of more plausible rumours she had also heard. Sometimes it was safer to play dumb.

Emilian visibly breathed out, his chest rising, his eyelids sliding down. "Right. Yes. Of course. Well, Lyss-"

"You want me to taste the traditional Neseredan cuisine?" Lyss couldn't think of anything better.

"What? No! No!" He put his head in his hands. Lyss never understood why he always seemed so... exasperated with her. He spent so much time with Joram, surely he was used to strangeness. Lyss wasn't strange anyway, was she? No, of course not.

"Well, what then?"

"She's... lonely, I suppose. She'd like some company." He raised his eyebrows. Lyss said nothing. "What I mean is-"

"I know what you mean. But... seriously? General? Me?" She gestured down to her mud and blood caked clothes, her bare feet (her aunt had given out about that, saying it wasn't hygienic, until Lyss pointed out that her feet only touched the ground and so only brought dirt from one place on the ground to the other, and she washed them every night before she slept. Besides, the palace floors were pleasant to walk on). "Make friends with a foreign princess?"

Emilian seemed to be thinking the same thing and was now subconsciously pulling at his own sleeve. "Maybe not make friends with as such, though I'd hope you'd do that as well. Be good for you to know some other girls," he added in almost a mumble. "But..." He leant in. "Whatever rumours you have heard, you must know that the girl needs... protection. From people outside our command as well as... from herself. Perhaps you might be, uh, less conspicuous than some of the men."

Lyss really didn't see herself as being inconspicuous, but she could see where he was coming from. "So you want me to protect her?"

Emilian made a strange head movement, somewhere between a nod and a shake. "Well, that and-"

"So you want me to spy on her."

He flinched a little at the word. "Not really, just stay close and..."

"So you want me to make friends with her." What a circular conversation this was.

Finally he nodded. "Yes, Lyss. Make friends with her. Maybe take a bath first."

Marlon Grey had disappeared from the face of the Earth, at around the same time that Toodles Oxfield appeared. It was a carefully calculated disguise. The clothing had been stolen from a farm and was covered from head to toe in mud. His strength was explained by his farming activity; which Marlon had actually been before he began work as a mercenary. A patriot, Toodles was answering the call of his country.

Marlon, now Toodles, was moving towards the city gates. He asked the guards where he could join the army and they directed him to their commanding officer. He felt pity for the young farmer; within three hours of entering the city, Marlon was standing with a group of fresh recruits. The training center was actually part of the castle complex, the new guards were most certainly used for the lighter duty; watch towers, messengers, and escorts, but always under the eye of a group of veteran warriors.

The first thing they did was process the new recruits. A barrage of paperwork, physical and mental tests was the first thing administered. Marlon had administered them countless times and knew just how to pull off that disoriented look that new recruits always seem to have. Some of the recruits were less than fit for duty and were dismissed outright. After that, they were washed and given fresh uniforms. The uniform was grey, the color of new recruits. Toodles smiled with pride, while Marlon smiled at how well things were going.

Then their Sergeant came in.

"MY NAME IS SERGEANT TOREHEEL. NEVER IN MY ENTIRE CAREER HAVE I SEEN ANYTHING LIKE THIS GROUP. THIS IS THE WORST BUNCH OF RECRUITS I HAVE EVER SEEN IN MY ENTIRE LIFE HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO TURN VERMIN LIKE YOU INTO SOLDIER?" Marlon cracked a smile as he remembered Sergeant Coxgrove over at Gor Nathal. Unfortunately, he realized he was smiling as Toodles as well and more unfortunately the Sergeant had seen it too. The Sergeant appeared in front of Toodles as only Sergeants could.

"IS SOMETHING FUNNY RECRUIT!"

"No," Toodles answered.

"I CAN'T HEAR YOU!"

"NO."

"NO! NO!! DO YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE TALKING TO?"

"YES!"

"THEN USE MY NAME AT THE END OF YOUR RESPONSES TO ME. GOT IT RECRUIT?"

"YES, SERGEANT TOREHEEL!"

"WHAT'S YOUR NAME RECRUIT?"

"TOODLES OXFIELD, SERGEANT TOREHEEL!"

"TOODLES? WHAT KIND OF DUMB NAME IS TOODLES?"

"IT IS THE NAME OF THE BEST RECRUIT YOU'LL EVER HAVE, SERGEANT TOREHEEL!" That was too much. The Sergeant struck him hard and would knocked a weaker man down. If the Sergeant was surprised that he was still standing, he didn't show it.

"WELL TOODLES, YOUR EVENING WILL BE SPENT IN THE KITCHEN, PEELING POTATOES." the Sergeant moved on to grill the rest of the recruits.

Callista:

Picking up a mess is harder than you think, especially when someone keeps walking in it. I glared at the feet passing my hands and muttered under my breath, ignoring the Princess as she went over to the window and sat on the ledge.

"Come on," she muttered under her breath, brushing some hair away from her face. She was quite pretty, for a Neseradan. Not that I was any better than a stupid maid. I grimaced. I wasn't like some of the other maids were, content to sleep with the stable-boy.

I looked away and continued sweeping up the mess. It was food, food that she had knocked out of the other maid's hands. Rolling my eyes at the other maid, I stood and turned for the door then decided better and handed the other maid the mess to get rid of. She shot me a glare but stalked off with the rubbish anyway.

The Princess glanced my way and frowned. I gazed back at her for a moment and then looked away, smirking once my back was turned. I had a feeling I was going to drop something. Smiling to myself, I walked over to the desk and picked up an ink pot, staring into the dark liquid for a moment.

"What are you doing?" she asked and I gasped, dropping the ink pot, which broke as it hit the table and then the stone floor.

"Nothing, Your Highness," I said quickly and backed towards the door. I glanced up from beneath my eyelashes and saw her glaring at me.

"Out," she said and I left, closing the door gently behind me.

In the hall, I bumped into a clean Lyss, who gave me a curious glance. I kept walking, looking over my shoulder a few times. When I turned back, I walked into something--or more correctly, someone. I fell backwards, landing on my back, and stared up at the man before. General Joram. Uh oh.

"Callista," he said, a slow maniacal smile gracing his features.

I sat by the window... starting to get inpatient. I wanted to see my beloved, Tathiel very badly. At least i could relax a bit, he would get here soon enough, if I didn't calm down it may worry someone. I heard a knock at the door, I quickly looked down at myself, I looked fine.
"Come in." I said. A young blond woman entered. I smiled, but it soon wavered and I turned my head back to the window.
"Can I help you?" I asked sweetly, trying to hide the worry in my voice.
"I thought you may be lonely, princess." I was kind of... bored. I only had a few moments conversation with king Tigad, besides that it was small talk with the servants. I walked over ans sat on the sofa, gesturing for her to sit.
"Please, if we are to talk as friends, call me Ceria. What may I call you?" I asked, gesturing to her.
"You may call me Lyss, if you wish, Ceria." I smirked. I hated having to act uptight. It wasn't me. Tathiel often said, if you wish to get to know your people, let them be comfortable with you. These may not be my people, but I was sure it applied here as well.

Lyss-

The princess was pretty, with lovely dark hair and skin that Lyss always associated with Neseredans. Acotegs tended to be paler, blonder, like Lyss herself. The princess sat stiffly, seemingly unsure of what to do, as if expecting Lyss to do it for her. Well, she hardly had a clue either.

"So I live in the army barracks," Lyss said, "With my dad and my mum and my brothers- well, they're in the army, so they don't live with us, but I see them around, in training and stuff. I help with the new recruits, though, which can be fun though they give me cheek sometimes as well."

"Wait." Ceria looked her up and down, her eyes sharp. "You're in the army?"

"Oh, not officially. They technically don't take girls, but I think they would if I wanted. I don't want to officially join though, because then I'd have too many obligations and, well. It's more fun being free, right?"

"If you have freedom," the princess muttered darkly.

"Oh, but it's not as if you're being locked up here, is it? The King's just trying to keep you safe, Your Highness, and honestly, what with those mercenaries about, surely you're safer here."

She shrugged. "Maybe."

"Besides, Nesereda has better food, but Acoteg definitely has the nicer clothes, wouldn't you agree? And I'm sure there'll be a party before you leave, and just wait 'til you see the parties around here, they're so wonderful-"

"Oh, really." She stood up and went to the window. "I don't think I'll go, even if there are any."

"Oh." Lyss stopped short, not sure how to continue. "Well then, what would you like to do, while you're here? Are you allowed to leave the palace?"

"I doubt it," she said, then turned with a sigh, shaking her head. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to be rude. Perhaps we can find something fun to do."

"So, you're not in the army, but you're trained?" The princess watched Lyss curiously.

"I don't know if trained's the right word. But I know my blades and bows pretty well. Why?"

She looked out the window again. "Someone very dear to me taught me how to fight myself. I'd like to keep it up, while I'm here. Do you think that's possible?"

Lyss thought about it for a moment. She saw no problem with it herself- after all, hadn't Emilian told her to keep the princess safe, and to keep an eye on her? Teaching her a few things would incorporate all that, and keep them both happy.

Then again, what with all the training of the new recruits, perhaps they would need Lyss' attentions elsewhere. Maybe they didn't want her trained in combat, maybe they didn't know she was already? Wait! Was that a secret she had just told Lyss? She hoped not. It still didn't answer the question of whether she should or shouldn't agree with the princess' request.

"Let me ask the general," she said.

By which she meant Emilian. No way was she approaching Joram and his wild eyes. Not twice in one week.

TATHIEL

I crumpled the note up and shoved it in my pocket, eyeing the ever-watching Fachon. "I know you think I'm an imbecile, but could you please stop looking at me like that? I can't say why, but it's... unnerving," I grumbled, shifting uneasily on the edge of my bed. Yes, and now you're talking to bird.

Of course, being the stubborn, high and mighty little thing he was, Fachon didn't look away. Instead he twittered something that I was sure must have been defiant and his eyes seemed to narrow. Until then I hadn't really considered that doves had the ability to glare, but if there ever one that could...

My mind drifted. So far today my beloved had been abducted (I was still sure that's what they had done), I had defied my king, and gotten glared at by a bird.

Unable to sit still for any longer, I rose and began to pace, mumbling to myself. I didn't know what they planned on doing to my Ceria, but I wanted her back with me. If they dared hurt her... My fists clenched into tight balls and a lump rose in my throat. At first I was going to hold back; after all, generals don't cry. But there was nobody here, so I let the tears come. A good two years worth of them at that...

"Ceria, please be safe," I murmered, although I already knew full-well that she wasn't.

There was sudden scratching at the door and I swiped at my tears, ignoring the fact that my eyes would be swollen and red anyways. I grabbed the knob and twisted it, opening the door just a crack. "Talon!" I exclaimed, letting him in. "Where have you gotten off to?"

He blinked at me, cocking his head to the side and giving off a low growl of concern. "I'm fine...." I frowned when Fachon started chirping wildly. "Hush Fach. And okay, I'm not fine. Ceria's gone and I'm an emotional wreck. There, now you know. Keep my secrets safely guarded."

I turned on my heel and continued pacing. Maybe I was being too untrustworthy... maybe Ceria really was rescued. But that still made no sense. Surely the Acotegs would have brought her here for treatment? Or at least alerted the king or anybody? I was considering sending another note about the my worries to Ceria, but I couldn't defy my king twice.

"Fachon, I suppose you're free to do whatever it is you do. No more errands for me today," I said quietly, still pacing.

Emilian

Emilian soaked in the simmering bath, allowing it to wash away all the stress of the day. Good heavens. Joram was right. The next few days would be stressful, to say the least. Emilian was already trying to figure out how he would entertain Tathiel without letting him too near Ceria. Perhaps showing him around Acoteg's palace?

Yes, Acoteg was a beautiful place. Tathiel would certainly like that. Emilian toyed with the idea of showing Tathiel their vast army, but decided against it. It wouldn't do them any good if Tathiel knew how many men they had in their army. A little surprise always went a long way.

Part of why Joram hated them.

Knock knock.

Emilian stayed put. No way was anyone getting him out of this bath.

Knock knock knock knock knock.

No. For God's sake, was a little relaxation and thinking time before the war too much to ask for?

Knock knock knock knock knock knock knock knock.

Yes, apparently, it was. Now Emilian was curious as to what was so important that the person outside was determined to get him to answer. With a groan he got out of the water and put on a robe. He quickened at the idea that Joram was behind the door. Joram would not take well to being made to wait.

Knock knock knock knock knock knock knock knock knock knock knock.

Emilian covered the last distance with long strides, opening the door with a suddenness that made the guest outside jump.

The birds chirped as water dripped from Emilian's hair. His eye twitched and his scowl worsened. This wasn't Joram. Nor was it likely to be anything important.

So why, dear God why, was Lyss knocking on his door like a nutter? He waited for her to say something, brown eyes burning into her cheery countenance. She ought to have something good, or else he swore he would murder her. Instead, Lyss giggled at him.

"You look messy."

He could throttle that girl. His twitch intensified. "What." It wasn't even a question anymore. The cold porcelain under Emilian's feet tickled him. Lyss had to be crazy to walk barefoot everywhere everyday. The feeling of dirt on his feet was terrible.

"The princess wants to train," she chirped.

That was it? She disrupted his alone time for that? Furious, Emilian slammed the door in her face. What did he care what the princess did? He didn't care at the moment. Didn't, couldn't, wouldn't. He stormed back to his tub, sank into it and glared at the wall.

It was only later that he realized what he'd just done that he scrambled out of the bath, slipping and falling face first on the porcelain in his hurry. He scrambled into clean clothes and rushed out the door. Ran towards the training field, brushing past everyone in his way.

Was Lyss crazy? Did she even have to ask? The princess couldn't train. At least, not with the troops. Maybe fake- train, but not train serious train.

He nearly slipped on puddles of water while cutting through the kitchen and spilled about two pots of soup. Oh well. Not his problem.

When he finally made it to the training yard, he was looking quite haggard, with his hair sticking out in all directions. Looked like Joram wasn't around, and hadn't seen the princess in the yard yet. Emilian had arrived in time. If he hadn't been in time, Joram probably wouldn't have been too happy. Emilian stepped in front of Lyss, bowed to the princess then returned Lyss's salute.

"Lyss, a private moment?"

His eye caught one of the new recruits, who was vaguely familiar. Vaguely. How could something be vaguely familiar? Emilian always remembered the way everyone looked. No, Emilian didn't just remember the way people looked. He remembered everything.

He ought to talk to the recruit. Later.

"Excuse me?" Ceria crossed her arms over her chest. "We were going to do something."

Emilian didn't have time for this. He needed a way out, now. Before Joram realized what Lyss believed Emilian gave her permission to do. His gaze begged Lyss to calm the princess down and talk to him for a moment. He only hoped he got the message, though.

"Lyss, please," he said softly. His eyes flickered back to the recruit who had caught his eye. The familiar face was gone, but Emilian remembered it. Not its name, nor where he saw it last. But Emilian certainly knew the face now, and he would hunt that recruit down later.

It was yet so early in the day, but he already had so much to do.

Lyss-

"Lyss, please." Emilian sounded desperate, which was unusual.

"I, um, I'll be right back, Ceria," Lyss said to the clearly offended other girl.

"I thought we were going to-"

"In a minute," Lyss said softly, padding over to where Emilian stood a few feet away. She offered him a half smile. He did not return it.

"What were you thinking?" he asked.

"You said-"

"I didn't say anything. I distinctly remember not saying anything. In fact, I remember slamming a door. Generally a slamming door means 'no.'" He grunted at the end of his sentence, which made Lyss frown. Emilian wasn't his usual articulate self.

"You seem stressed, General."

"Do I?" He ran a hand through his hair. "Maybe I am. Look, she can't be here. She can't... train. With weapons. Of any sort."

Lyss gave him her best puppy-dog eyes. "But then what are we supposed to do?"

"I don't know. You're girls, aren't you? Talk about dresses or... or something. Just get her away from here."

Lyss nodded slowly, but didn't agree. "It won't be nearly as much fun, but I suppose, if I have to..."

"You do. Now go on. Get her away." His eyes flicked back to where the new recruits were moving into the next courtyard. "I have to go. Have things to do. So do as I say."

Lyss stood to attention on instinct. "Yes sir."

"Good." He breathed out. "Good." He turned to leave and as she followed suit, he spun back. "Oh, and Lyss?"

"Yes?"

"Don't ever disturb me in the bath again. Ever."

Joram

“Callista.” He smiled at the girl, stepping closer and leaning in to offer her a hand up. “Just the person I wanted to see.”

She took the proffered hand, looking a little wary. Joram really had no idea why. There were ink stains on the hem of her clothes, and he peered at them with vague curiosity. Then the direction in which she’d come from registered, and he chuckled.

“Met our new guest, have you?”

The girl looked sullen for a moment, then shrugged. “I had to clean up her mess.” Her tone implied she didn’t think much of their little bird. Joram chuckled, let go of her hand and stepped back a bit.

“Really now? You should try playing nice, perhaps. You never know what you’ll discover you might have in common.” She didn’t look impressed. Nor convinced.

“Why would she even talk to me?”

“Give it a try, my dear. Live dangerously.”

He grinned, then skipped back, giving her back her space.

“Think about it.”

Then he was gone, laughing to himself. He’d never tire of princesses, no, be it the one they’d just acquired or the one he’d just left behind and didn’t even know herself for one.

…he might need to inform Tigad eventually, he supposed. But there was no hurry to it. It never hurt to know more than one’s sovereign. Emilian knew, and it was enough. Should he tell her too, he wondered? Watch her face? He could just imagine the disbelief. No proof after all, was there.

The sun caught on the hilt of his rapier, glinted off the intricate, gilded edges of it, and the light drew his eyes, and his thoughts away from their current trend.

Perhaps he should go see the new recruits? Emilian had been putting them through their paces, but a little visit from himself never hurt to encourage them to push themselves a little harder.

He tapped at the pommel, head cocked as he weighted his options. There was some paperwork sitting at his desk, relative to platoon assignments and other such fun, administrative stuff.

Yes. Joram did not mind the bureaucracy, but perhaps not right now. It might temper his current good mood.

The recruits it was.

Going to the training courts took perhaps ten minutes, if one took the castle’s hallways. Joram preferred the sun; it took longer, but allowed him to check on everything on the way.

Then he was with the other soldiers rather than the nobles dithering around the court, and it was a relief of sorts. He nodded back at the salutes that followed the startled looks in his direction, paused to exchange a few instructions with the stable keepers. He might be flighty at times, but he was good at his job.

And then he was moving towards the sparring ring, where the recruits seemed to be going against each other. Good. It was always interesting to watch, notice those with potential early on. Or the troublemakers.

Casually he leaned against the barrier, observed one, two, three bouts. Rather… disappointing, this batch. Some of them showed signs of training, but the form was sloppy.

He was about to leave when one of the two that had stepped up completely wiped the floor with his opponent. Average-looking, he was, but his fighting was good. Joram knew good fighting when he saw it.

“Who is that?”

“Oxfield. Toodles Oxfield, general.”

…Toodles? Poor man.

Callista:

Joram...confused me. You never know what you’ll discover, you might have more in common than you think... I sighed and turned towards the kitchen. Darn that man could be conflicting.

"Live dangerously? Ha!" I was talking to myself and didn't care. "Ha, he can say that! I'm not the one risking a beating or worse for not doing as I'm told... Well, perhaps he'd get a beating. One can't be too sure..."

"Talking to yourself again, Cas?" asked Ella, one of the other kitchen maids. I looked up, started.

"Maybe," I said, grinning. I looked around slowly. I had reached the kitchens quicker than I thought.

They were busy. Everyone was busy. I sighed and watched Ella rush back and forth for a moment until she dumped a handful of dishes in my arms.

"Help us out, will you?" she asked and went back to rushing around.

I let out an iritated puff of air and moved to put the plates down only to have someone bump into me and send all of them to the floor. Nothing but the sound of breaking china could be heard for a moment. I looked up, terrified. The cook was glaring at me.

"Out!" she snapped. "Out! Out! Out!"

I put down the only plate I'd mangaged to hold onto and backed away from the cook. She had a wooden spoon raised. Ella looked terrified too, like she might panic. The cook waved the spoon a little and I sighed again, defeated. I shot her a glare before turning my back on her and stalking back out into the hall, only to bump into someone headed for the kitchen.

"Sorry," I blurted and looked up.

The swords were made of wood and covered with blood stains. The drilling was boring as well as the bureaucracy. His opponent was scrawny and inexperienced, but would be an effective demonstration. They saluted each other with swords, and Marlon noticed some officer looking on; but there was no time to look closer. His opponent held his sword as the Sergeant had taught. It was the standard Acoteg stance, easy to learn, but difficult to master.

His opponent swung the sword, but it was way too slow. Marlon blocked it easily with his sword, then with his free hand, he grabbed his opponents sword arm and was able to gain control of it. Then, taking his sword, he smashed the hilt of it into the face of his opponent, breaking his nose. He twisted his opponents wrist and the sword dropped from his hand. Another punch and his opponent was on the ground. He tried to get up, but Marlon put his foot on the man's chest and moved his sword towards his throat.

It was over before it really began and Marlon couldn't help but feel a little disappointed. He didn't expect to find a challenge, but he had hoped for more of a workout. The man was crying out in pain as some medics came to drag him away.

"TOODLES!"

"YES, SERGEANT TOREHEEL!"

"GET OVER HERE ON THE DOUBLE!"

"YES SERGEANT TOREHEEL!"

He marched double time to the Sergeant and saw he was with the officer that he noticed earlier. Marlon stopped and saluted.

"RECRUIT TOODLES OXFIELD, REPORTING AS ORDERED."

"Don't shout recruit, I can hear you just fine," the officer said.

"YES... yes sir. I'm sorry sir."

"Impressive victory recruit, you dismantled your opponent quite handily. Where did you learn to fight like that?"

"Sir, I used to act as security in my father's pub, before he lost it. I used that knowledge to help me."

"Help you it did, but your partner was not a proper match. I will give you a proper challenge."

"Sir, the Sergeant told me that, according to army regulations, if I struck a superior officer, I could be court marshaled or executed."

"Recruit, I am General Joram Sonnen. As far as your concerned, I am Army regulation. Get on with it."

"Yes General," Marlon said. He couldn't believe his luck; he wanted to impress someone at the top, but the leader of their army? Marlon entered the sparring ring, certain that luck was smiling on him. He saluted the General with the sword and he returned it. Then Marlon's heart sank. The general didn't enter into the standard Acoteg stance, instead he dropped into a stance that Marlon had invented; Grey's stance. It had been updated several times over the years, but it would be hard to defeat it with the standard Acoteg stance. Had the General been to Gor Nathal?

The general attacked aggressively and Marlon retreated, blocking twice before the General landed a hit on his left arm, and he felt it sting. The general stalked him now; his sword angled diagonal to his body, so that a flick of the wrist would send it up. Standard Acoteg wouldn't stop the general.

So, Marlon decided to modify it. He modified the Acoteg stance so that it would be lower to the ground and he'd hold the sword further further down. The general shot forward, and this time Marlon stood his ground. The sword came up, trying to get him in the stomach, but Marlon anticipated this and parried. The modification was more effective, but it still couldn't match the speed of the Grey Stance. But the idea wasn't to defeat the general, it was to impress him. Marlon went a little further; he decided to test him.

He attacked one way and Joram repelled it as Marlon expected. He methodically went through the attacks and finally he found a weakness. One of his counters used an older version of Grey's stance; but it had been updated since then because it wasn't fast enough to counter a Fleuridian thrust. So, he attempted a Fleuridian thrust using a modified Acoteg stance. The sudden maneuver surprised both fighters, but Marlon was able to capitalize on the surprise and deliver a swift blow to Joram's flank. He pressed his attack, but the General had recovered and suddenly Marlon was on the ground, his sword underneath Joram's foot, while Joram's sword hovered slightly over his throat.

"I yield," Marlon said, releasing his grip on the sword.

"I accept," Joram replied. Then he bent down and helped Marlon up. "You're a very talented young man, Toodles Oxfield. Much too talented to be wasted in basic training. I'll be transferring you to the King's Guard where your talents will be put to better use."

It took Marlon a moment to recognize it.

"You're graduating me?"

"There isn't much more I can teach you," Sergeant Toreheel said with a smile.

"What's going on?" a newcomer asked. Marlon turned and recognized Emilian. The last time he had seen him, he was taking classes on the Grey Stance. He bore more cares now, but was otherwise identical. Marlon hoped his disguise would hold now.

"Emilian, this is Toodles Oxfield. He'll be joining the King's Guard. He only joined earlier today, but he did very well when I sparred him."

"I think I've met you before Oxfield, but I can't seem to remember where," Emilian said, watching Marlon like a hawk.

"General, I don't think I could forget a man like you if we had met in the past. The honor would have been too great," Marlon replied. Emilian didn't relax.

"Joram, I wanted to talk with you more about the mercenary attack," Emilian said.

"Mercenary attack!" Marlon said.

"Yes Toodles. The same mercenaries that we rescued Princess Ceria from are still out there and they'll want her back. Excuse me," Joram said as he walked off with Emilian.

"Congratulations Toodles," Sergeant Toreheel said.

"Thank you, Sergeant Toreheel."

"Your promotion doesn't exempt you from your potato peeling assignment. Clean up and report to the kitchen. Good luck Toodles," Sergeant Toreheel said with a smile.

"Thank you, Sergeant Toreheel!"