Fencing Academy Pt. 02

But she had to, because Lyza wasn't training, she was actually fighting.

That was the only time Adriana had truly been in battle. She could tell the instant they crossed swords Lyza didn't know how to not fight. All around her, her classmates had sparred oblivious to the mortal combat that was going on. And they never had a chance to know, because Lyza could not land a single strike.

She remembered most clearly the first words they'd exchanged. Lyza was struggling to get on her feet, her whole body shivering under the blows that had repeatedly stricken her. She could no longer use her sword as it now took her weight. Adriana still had her own sword pointed at her, prepared for a sudden lunge from Lyza.

Then she asked Lyza: "Are you done?"

Lyza had taken several long, labored breaths, before she said: "Aye, for today."

They had crossed swords since then, but never again like that. Lyza had become a much more disciplined fighter, and in some ways, that made her much more frightening. The girl, quite famously, couldn't count past the number of fingers on her hands, and until recently couldn't read, but she had instead a deeper, primal intelligence, a cunning no books could teach. When their eyes met, Adriana knew Lyza was no fool.

I hope you have learned to respect me, thought Adriana as she faced Lyza now, just like how I respect you.

They donned the masks.

"En garde," commanded Sara.

They lifted their swords.

"...pret..."

Adriana shifted her weight to her front foot.

"...allez!"

The dance began. Swords struck between them. Lyza was a familiar opponent, and the opening of this game she knew by heart. Lyza would be the aggressor in this movement, then allow the favor to be returned. The dance would go back and forth, the clash of metal would sing for them their song.

Lyza advanced boldly, but Adriana's retort stung back hard. Lyza had to retreat, and now it was time for Adriana to push forward. There were parries and thrusts and ripostes aplenty, but the real game was behind the masks. They were guessing and second-guessing each other, minds working as furiously as their feet, arms and wrists. The point of the sword hardly seemed less important.

Lyza's mask was a veil from which no expression escaped. Adriana wondered how she looked. Would she be in pleasure or pain? Would a drop of sweat drip from her forehead and curve around her eyebrow? Would she be gritting her teeth, or would her lips be parted in an invitation?

The swords sung as they scraped together, urgent and undulating, sparks summoned from the heat of contact. Adriana sensed she was not fighting, but playing an instrument, one sword the ribbon, the other the strings, each parry a pluck. The tempo changed but the rhythm never did. The entire world around them darkened and faded. The music they made was sweeter than anything conjured by the lotus.

To be challenged by my peer, to anticipate each of their moves and have them anticipate yours, to know each other in such deep intimacy, to give and take from an equal... is this what sex is? Is this the manner of intercourse I crave?

Gwen's words echoed into her. You are selfish lover. But that was not true. I can give and take. The only reason I don't is because the Saints tell me not to.

Adriana's heart seized. What did I just admit to myself?

"Stop," said Sara.

Adriana felt the energy leave her as the swords disconnected. She looked upon a mesmerized audience... their faces dizzied by the performance. Tom seemed to have gone a new shade of red.

The fencing instructor was unreadable, though. She contemplated what she had witnessed, her lips pursed. A verdict was heavy in her throat.

"Sloppy," Sara said finally.

Adriana had heard the word, and saw Sara's lips move, but she could scarcely put the two together. As did much of the class, judging from the faces they made. It was only when Lyza spoke that the word registered.

Lyza tore off the mask, her green eyes shining furiously. "How was that sloppy?"

"But... my footwork, my bladework, they were perfect..." said Adriana, genuinely confused.

Sara shook her head. "Yes, perfect, for a ballroom dance. I hadn't realized I had made such a fine ballet instructor. I thought I was teaching you how to fight."

Sara sighed and walked over to the two girls, drawing her own sword.

"First you, Adriana. You were like a child learning his first melody on a piano: you repeated the same five notes over and over again." Sara replicated Adriana's cuts in the air. "See? Predictable. And even worse, on your fifth strike, you over commit and leave your arm open, allowing Lyza to strike in quartata... which leads to Lyza's sloppiness..."

Lyza bristled as Sara turned to her.

"...Yours is much worse, Lyza. You had half a hundred time to strike Adriana's obvious opening. At first I had thought you were trying to lull Adriana into a sense of false security, but after the sixth blunder I lost hope in you. The question is, why didn't you take it?"

"It wouldn't have been a killing blow," Lyza answered plainly.

Sara shook her head. "What is it with you and killing blows, Lyza? In a battle to first blood, all you need is to strike at the first opening..."

Lyza lifted her chin. "Shouldn't we be learnin' how to fight to the death, then? All you teach us is this 'first blood' tripe."

Sara made half a sneer. "Very well." She turned to the class. "Your first lesson in a fight to the death: never be as stupid as Lyza Dunwall, waiting for killing blows when opportunities to wound your opponent present themselves."

Lyza stared at Sara as she traced her bleached scar across her face. It was a statement; I killed in battle, you haven't, what do you know?

Sara flinched. "Sometimes, Lyza, I wonder whether I like you at all." Sara turned to the students. "Class is dismissed," she growled.

The entire student body rose and began to file out from the classroom. Before Lyza could leave Adriana grabbed her by the hand. Lyza twitched in annoyance.

"Lyza, I was wondering if we could talk... in private."

Lyza searched Adriana's face for misdirection or nervousness. "What does the Duchess want with a low-life like me?"

"I don't see a low-life. I see a friend, and I want your counsel," said Adriana.

Adriana didn't understand Lyza oftentimes, especially when she was like this, and how she flinched at the word, "friend".

"Alright," she said, reluctantly.

After they had put themselves into their normal clothes they walked over behind the school. There were tall hedges here, a small garden in riotous flowering. They sat on a marble bench.

In the two years that Adriana had known Lyza, the swordswoman had matured from pretty to something beautiful. She had been a rake when they'd met, thin with sallow cheeks and tired eyes, but good nutrition and exercise had filled out where she was lacking. It brought out a magnetic radiance in her, like she glowed from deep within. Her scar, long, thin and clean, only served to make her look exotic and dangerous. The cavalier's cap that normally covered her vibrant ginger hair was at her side.

Adriana put a friendly hand on Lyza's thigh. Lyza frowned at the touch, but didn't push her away.

"What do you think about Marcus?" asked Adriana.

Lyza gritted her teeth as she thought over the question. "There have been worse men."

Lyza had been couching her opinions, but they were shockingly close to her own. "My feelings exactly," said Adriana. Beneath the breeches she could sense her knotted muscles pounding with energy, lean, strong but still womanly. "I'm going to marry him, I think."

Lyza looked very uncomfortable. "Why tell me that? I could be a spy."

"You're not a spy," laughed Adriana. She sidled to Lyza, so that their thighs touched. A peculiar heat arose between them. "You did very well in our fight. You know, despite what Sara said."

"Aye," said Lyza. She shifted a bit closer to the edge of the marble bench, away from Adriana.

"My champion will be retiring," mentioned Adriana.

Lyza was surprised. "The cyclops woman?"

"That's the one. So I was wondering if... if... you'd be my new champion," said Adriana.

"I—" the words dropped out of Lyza's mouth. Her head turned to the school, agape.

Adriana felt like she should say something. "I'm not ordering you to do it. It is your choice. If you take the job, you'll live in the palace. You'll be taken care of. But... my choice of Marcus will generate many envious suitors. You'll be expected to protect him and me. It will be very dangerous... you might be killed."

Lyza was blinking in shock, like she wasn't taking in what she was hearing.

Adriana laughed uncomfortably. "Well... say something..."

"Don't you hold a tournament for that?" Lyza's usual grumbling misanthropy was absent. Thoughts roiled behind her green eyes.

"That was my father's way of doing things. He thought that a champion needed to be the best. I think a champion should be someone I trust."

Again, Lyza bristled at the word 'trust'. Adriana wanted to giggle at her discomfort, but she knew it would have wounded her. She knew those with difficult childhoods were not used to intimacy, or even friendship. Lyza's had it worst than anyone, and Adriana didn't need to ask to know it.

"I need to think on it," Lyza said curtly.

"Don't think too long," said Adriana, "I need someone, and I need them soon."

Lyza stood up from the bench hastily.

"Wait," commanded the Duchess.

Lyza turned slowly and strangely towards her.

Adriana hugged her, a long, deep hug, her head buried into the pillows of her breasts, even as Lyza got so stiff her arms glued to her hips. Lyza was not well endowed, but all the same they felt pleasing as breasts do. Wafting from her was a fragrance that was sweet and musky. She smells of leather, she noted, of barley wine and moss. With her ear against her ribcage, Adriana could feel her heart pounding.

"Wot... wot was that for?" said Lyza as Adriana let her go.

"There are few people in this world that I can touch like that," intimated Adriana. "I hope you'll become one of them."

Lyza flushed a beet red. "I've... I've got to go..."

Lyza rushed, leaving Adriana blinking and wondering if she hadn't spoken too plainly. There was nothing unusual about the way she touched her, she often hugged her female companions. Lyza's an odd girl, she thought. Perhaps a life at the palace would do good for her. She could find a husband worthy of her beauty and skill. She would want for nothing.

A curious thought struck her: she could see Lyza and Marcus together, fitting like puzzle pieces from two different sets, yet flush. They were both awkward and uncomfortable people, after all, and what better way to be that than with someone else? A comedy could be written of their bed talk:

"I approve of that," Marcus would say, nodding naked beneath sheets but frown still set on his face.

"Aye, 'twas good," Lyza would respond, still reeling from the trauma of having enjoyed herself.

Adriana giggled at the thought. It was too bad she was going to marry Marcus. If she hadn't, she might tried to have made it happen.

###

Adriana only lived in a small section of the Ducal palace, much of it devoted to administration, records, armories and barracks. In her circular bedchamber, large, arching windows occupied much of the southern wall, set between colonnades of marble. They faced a view of the churning oceans, too dark to reflect the star-pocked sky, the horizon line burning with the day of a different part of the world. When the windows open, the bite of warm salt air would fill the room.

The harsh electric lamps had been turned off for the night. Instead, candelabras provided a softer, warmer light. Adriana sat at her vanity, watching one of candle flames dance and pucker uncertainly as a servant put a brush through her hair. When the light flickered out of its own accord, the servant cursed, saying "Damn cheap candles" and busied herself relighting it.

The vanity's mirror reflected an image of her bed, luxuriant and much too large for the girl who lay waiting in it. Jenny Stirling had donned glasses and curled like a cat over an open book. Smooth blond hair tumbled from behind her, her stomach and hips curved deeply. Long, gentle fingers touched the ivory paper with their tips, melding into a slender arm which almost concealed a pair of plum breasts. A mole kissed the underside of her belly, just above her golden fruff. The soft radiance of candlelight brought out a warmth to the girl's skin.

Adriana swallowed. She experienced a sudden, brief, loathing for the girl. Inexplicably, like the candle, it flickered out. It turned into something else... fear. There was no mistaking it. Adriana's lips peeled for air, her heart was pounding a soft rhythm, her palms became numb and fingers useless.

To enter with that girl was her desire and doom. It was so deep Adriana want to push her back into the soft breasts of the lady-in-waiting attending to her hair.

But she remained still as stone. Across from the bed, her other two ladies-in-waiting were already sitting, to be witness to the ritual about to take place. An idle thought during the fencing match with Lyza had evoked an extraordinary admission inside her. I can't show how I feel. These girls were new and fresh, and she did not know if they could be trusted. Adriana didn't even know their names.

The hair brushing was done. The girl joined her companions on the seats by the bed. Adriana rose from the vanity, and glanced at her own, naked body. Her nerves made her look wild, black hair draped across her breasts with a fringe that covered her forehead, just over sky-blue eyes which were wide and full of doubt. With her cosmetics washed off, her face was little different from a that of a pretty peasant. It carried discolorations, small scars and little moles like any other. The rest of her body was not that special. Her breasts were of average size, without the attractive plump, rounded shape, nipples more red than pink. A slender, subtle curve traced around her belly and hips, the consequence of a diet "good for the skin".

This is who I am... she thought, this is how Jenny sees me each night.

Except even that wasn't true. The amber bottle was on her nightstand, a pair of tweezers and a cotton ball beside it. Each night Jenny would pleasure her as she writhed beneath the influence of the lotus, transported to a realm of timeless heaven ringing with the clash of steel.

Adriana's bare feet took her across the cold tile floor. The journey to the threshold of her bed seemed a long and slow one, like she was walking through a sweet, warm, pink tar, with Jenny making a clam-like indent in the sheets. As Adriana approached, Jenny smiled, closed her book, and took off her glasses.

"Do you need release, milady?" she said softly as she did each night. Jenny's eyes flickered in candlelight.

Jenny, however, would be surprised. Instead of lying back on the pillow as Adriana usually did, she took the patch of bed next to Jenny, her legs curling beside her. It was Jenny's time to feel nervous.

"My lady, what are you—"

"I need to tell you something, Jenny," said Adriana, taking a lock of Jenny's golden hair around her finger.

Jenny eyebrows shifted in concern.

"I will be getting married soon," continued Adriana, "I suppose you know what that means."

Jenny's eyes dropped. "I suppose so, my lady."

She must have known this day would come, thought Adriana.

"...I will find a place for you," said Adriana softly, still twirling Jenny's hair, "There are many in the palace who need help. Handsome, powerful men who need wives."

"I will be where you need me to be, Your Grace. I will marry who you wish me to marry."

Jenny said it as though she were an obedient animal being dismissed from the presence of a beloved master. This isn't easy for me, either, thought Adriana.

"...What do you want, Jenny?" asked Adriana.

"I have no ambitions, Your Grace."

A man who wants for nothing can never be hurt, an old proverb went, so why does Jenny seem to be in such pain?

"There must be something you want in life. Do you not dream of a handsome husband?" asked Adriana.

Jenny swallowed nervously. "If truth is told, I do not dream of men at all, Your Grace."

Are you so devoted to me that you have never imagined a life beyond this bed? Do you not want something more than a life of selfless service? What is it to serve and give?

On a whim, Adriana put her nose to her shoulder and took a deep, sensuous sniff. Her lips grazed the servant's skin without puckering... something ever so close to that forbidden kiss...

"Citrus," sighed Adriana, her hand stroking Jenny's bare shoulder, "mint... perhaps black currant, too."

Jenny couldn't move. "You— you have a keen nose, milady..."

Jenny's skin was smooth and pale. Adriana enjoyed running her hand over it, like velvet. Gently, Adriana turned Jenny's face toward her, with the tips of her fingers. Her wet lips had a glow in the candlelight, but her brown doe eyes glittered with an apprehension.

Our lips have never been so close, thought Adriana.

"Why would you perfume yourself, if you had not expected to be touched?" asked Adriana.

"I thought that you would like it," Jenny stuttered, "I did not mean to offend you, or try and seduce you into breaking one of the Divine Laws—"

"Tell me how you apply it to your skin," asked Adriana, lifting Jenny's hair to sniff down the ridge of her spine.

"I— I— I squeeze a lemon into some water," she said, "with some mint tea, and some dried currants, and then I soak into it..."

Adriana held out her arm. "Tell me how I smell," she commanded.

Nervously, Jenny took a sniff. "You smell nice, milady..."

"It is a scent you are familiar with, am I wrong?" asked Adriana.

Jenny blushed to a pink color. "Oh yes... I suppose..."

Adriana grasped her by the sides of her neck, her thumbs in the ridges of her cheeks. Their eyes were fixed on the other. Jenny's lips were parted ever so slightly, as though expecting a kiss.

"Get me the essence of lotus," she commanded her.

A disappointment betrayed itself on her lips and eyes. "As you wish," Jenny obeyed, prying herself reluctantly from Adriana's grasp and crawling across the bed to get the amber bottle with the tweezers and cotton. Jenny had her ass to Adriana, her most vulgar parts exposed, her hole dark and star-like, her vulva wet and swollen beneath. These lips do not lie.

Jenny returned to Adriana's side. Before she could open the bottle, Adriana gently took it from her. Confusion returned to Jenny's face.

"We will be doing things differently tonight," Adriana explained. I want to know how it is to serve.

"Different?" Jenny's voice trembled.

Adriana unscrewed the top and dipped the cotton into the essence of lotus. She held the soaked ball to Jenny's face, dangerously close to the underside of her nose. Jenny resisted, her head reeling back, nose shriveling.

"Take it in," she commanded, pushing it closer to Jenny's nose.

"This is wrong..." Jenny muttered.

"I am the Duchess of Rotham," she said, "I command you: take in the essence of lotus..."

Jenny could not disobey a direct command. She put her nose to it, and after a moment of hesitation, sniffed it in deeply.

Her eyes dilated to big, black disks, her mouth suddenly gaping open with the rush of sensation. She went limp, and fell into Adriana's arms. Adriana could almost feel the high through her, so familiar she was with the essence. Adriana set aside the bottle and allowed Jenny to fall on her breast.