The Brush Tiger of Derven Ch. 30-31

CHAPTER 30: TRAINING

Mora bids Laren farewell with a heavy heart; she watches from the stairs of the castle until he fades in the distance, disappearing down the public road. Turning to Irving, she offers a half smile before retreating back into the castle. Slowly, they make their way to the large throne room as she explains the ideals and virtues that she would consider necessary for a King.

"The way you speak of it reminds me of your father," Irving says thoughtfully as they spend time examining the paintings of the previous royalty adorning the walls.

"That is exactly what I am trying to encompass; since everything Irron was, was horrible, I am attempting to teach you what it would be like to become a Derven King." Her eyes are fixed on the portrait of her mother, seeing her almost harsh, pointed face, deep dark hair and bright green eyes. Her eyes, most definitely, remind her of those in Sceadu. When she finally pulls her gaze away, she realizes that Irving is staring at her.

He seems flustered for a moment, something that he has done well to keep locked down over the past day, "I am sorry, Namora, I didn't mean to stare," he averts his gaze, skirting around her to look at another painting, "I can hardly imagine that if I did agree to this, that I would be able to rule Alumenia on my own."

She nods slowly, following him, "Advisor Laren will remain with you until the dust has cleared; he is a good judge of character and it is my hope he will be able to find an Alumenian trustworthy enough to become your own Advisor."

Irving's gaze drops from the painting to the floor; he draws in a breath and glances sideways at her, "That isn't quite what I meant, Namora."

It takes her a moment to discern his words; when she does, her heart begins to pound fast and she can feel her face almost flush, barely able to stammer out anything, "Oh."

He stares at the floor, speaking to it though his posture is commanding, his hands elegantly clasped behind his back, "I realize that it is very sudden—we haven't known each other for more than a few days, but when I am with you, I feel like I am—like I am home. Your presence puts me at ease in a way that I have never felt before. I can hardly imagine anyone less than a King would be worthy of your affections or I wouldn't have bothered saying anything. I know your fears of Sceadu and Geofen banning together; it seems the logical thing for them to do, now that they realize what a force Derven is. I hate the idea that Irron tried to force the alliance between Alumenia and Derven, but perhaps...perhaps it was more strategic than we've attributed to him."

Mora is utterly shocked; to hide her surprise, she turns her back towards him, trying to gather her thoughts. She admits to herself that she is very attracted to him—the effect he has on her is the same one as Rick. Whereas Rick is strong and naturally powerful, Irving is innately kind and thoughtful. An ache hits her, when she realizes that perhaps Irving wouldn't want her if he knew she already gave her body to Rick—she chastises herself for giving into her carnal desire outside of marriage. If she does not marry Rick, she is ruined. Drawing in a deep breath, his words hit her with a realization, "Are you saying that you would become the King of Alumenia, if I agreed to be Queen?"

His voice is right behind her, she can almost feel his breath on her neck, "I am saying, Namora, that I as the King of Alumenia, would like you to be my Queen."

Slowly, she turns around, taking care to leave her face blank; she lets her anger spark a flame inside, finding his eyes. He is mere inches from her, "Am I to assume that this is a conditional offer? You would barter the throne for my hand, either you get both or neither?"

He looks genuinely surprised, "I would never do such a thing, Namora." He reaches down and takes her hand into his, bringing the back up to his lips, "I will go with you to Geofen and I will claim my birthright regardless—however, I cannot deny the way that you make me feel."

Her heart leaps into her throat at the touch though her mind reels at the now impossible decision before her. "And if I were to decline? If I took another as my King?"

Staring at her hand, he strokes the back of it, placing another kiss before gently letting it go, "Then I would count myself lucky to view you as my sister and hope to form a bond between our nations regardless." He is silent for a moment, before speaking softly, "A blind man could see Prince Varickan's feelings for you, Namora. I was hoping that I had a chance because you are still eating bread."

Drawing in a deep breath to respond, she is cut off by the knocking sound on the door. Franklin tentatively peeks his head in, bowing deeply when Mora turns to him, "I am sorry to interrupt, Queen Namora. If I could have a brief word?"

Irving takes the hint and slowly walks down the length of the throne room, admiring the paintings while Mora approaches Franklin, "What is it?"

He frowns slightly, "Amyee..."

Mora's brows crumple, "Is she all right?" Mora didn't see any injuries on her after the battle, but it has been a few days since then and she hasn't had the chance to sneak away from the castle to visit.

"The man who was courting her," Franklin says softly, "perished in the battle. She has not been herself since then. I was hoping that if you had a moment or two to spare, you could spend some time with her?"

Her heart aches for her friend, "Of course. I will visit her this evening."

"Good, then I can go with you."

"I'd prefer to do it alone, Franklin," Mora says, "she is no doubt in need of a good cry and I don't think having her older brother within earshot will offer any comfort."

He shifts slightly, "I am not comfortable with the idea of you not having a guard."

"In my own land?" She says, surprised.

"Anywhere," he replies, "we almost lost our Princess once, we did lose our King—we cannot risk our Queen."

She sighs, "Perhaps you could bring her here then to stay for a few days. It would be nice to have someone...female, to talk to."

He huffs a laugh, "Sari does not count, I suppose, as she would rather fight than talk. I will have someone gather Amyee; if it is agreeable, I could get her here by lunch?"

Her posture slumps a little, "Lunch? In an hour? Is she really that bad off, Franklin?"

All he replies with is a sad smile.

"Right away then," Mora nods, dismissing him. When she returns to Irving, she is thankful that he doesn't bring up their previous discussion. Instead, they pick up where they left off.

Soon enough, midday arrives and they find themselves walking down the hall towards the small dining room. When Mora pulls her gaze away from Irving, she sees Amyee approaching them. Though Amyee cautiously eyes Irving, she curtseys to Mora.

Mora sighs, drawing Amyee into a warm hug when she rises. Amyee swallows hard, wrapping her arms around her and the two embrace for a while. Finally, Mora pulls away, gently stroking her friend's face, "I'm sorry, Amyee. I should have known—if I had, I would have come sooner."

Amyee sniffles with a smile, "You have more important things to do than to look after me, Queen Namora."

Tenderly she kisses her friend's forehead, "You will stay here for a few days with me. Now, come, let me introduce you—this is Irving. Irving, this is my dear friend Amyee."

Irving bows deeply, offering a kind smile, "It is nice to make your acquaintance, Amyee."

Amyee offers him a curtsey, surprised by his formalness, "As it is to make yours, Irving."

"Let us eat some lunch," Mora says, walking into the room first, Amyee's arm tucked into hers.

When she sits at the head of the table, Irving sits to her right, Amyee to her left. They start filling their plates when Eric enters the room. He is followed by Lucas, Sari, and lastly Rick.

It is Eric who offers a bow, "We were wondering, Queen Namora, if we could join you for lunch?"

Mora clenches her jaw tight, staring right into his bright green eyes; she has no issue with her three friends joining them, but is wary of having Rick in the same room as Irving after his outburst yesterday. The only time she saw him remotely like that before, was when he discovered she was engaged to Irron—and he broke her shoulder out of rage. She knows how brutal and violent he can be without his wits about him.

"Of course," Irving's pleasant voice comes as a surprise to all of them, "It would be a pleasure to have your company."

Shocked, Mora looks at Irving. All he does is offer her a brilliant smile before returning his attention to pouring some wine for them both. She huffs a snort, motioning her hand outward, "By all means."

Smartly, Eric takes the seat next to Irving; Mora realizes he does so in order to put him in a position to protect the man. When Amyee hesitates and starts to rise, realizing that she is sitting where the Prince should, he stops her.

"Please, miss, stay," he offers a soft smile before sitting beside her, followed by Lucas.

Sari stalks over to sit next to Eric, drawing Mora's attention when she sees her outfit, "I am pleased to see that you look lovely in a dress, Sari."

Sari purses her lips, glancing up at Mora, "Thank you. I will admit, the dresses in Derven are more comfortable than I thought one would be. A far cry from the fashion of Sceadu."

The laugh escapes her throat musically before she can stop it, "I'd hardly call the things women wear in Sceadu a dress. We are much more practical than women like Rebecca and Fanny."

The thought of it brings a smile to Sari's lips, "Yes, that is most definitely the truth."

Franklin slips in with a bow, before sitting at the far end of the table. He gives a lingering look at Sari, earning him a scowl from the woman—it brings a smile to Mora's face.

"I know the dressmaker in town," Amyee says, eyeing Sari, "perhaps this winter we can go visit her and have a few more made."

Sari tenses a little, staring down at her plate. She doesn't reply, but Mora picks up the conversation, speaking to Amyee, "Yes, we will have to get a hunting dress made for her."

When Sari looks up, she glances from Mora, to Amyee, to Franklin, "A hunting dress?"

"All of the women wear hunting dresses to the Festival," Irving says, easily picking up their train of thought, "it would only be proper for you to have one as well. Do you still intend on hosting the next Festival in the woods near the western village?" He asks Mora.

"Yes," she says, sipping her wine, "we will have to find Sari a hunting party."

"Perhaps she can join ours," Amyee says softly, "I think that Talia will probably want to hunt with her mother and sisters next time."

Mora nods, "All right. Sari, would you like to join our hunting party at the next Festival?"

Sari's brow crinkles, "You want me to hunt with you?"

Glancing at Franklin, Mora raises a brow. He shifts uncomfortably in his seat, before speaking softly, "Women cannot entertain proposals of marriage before killing their first brush tiger."

Her eyes grow wide, her face snapping to him, "Marriage! Now wait just a damn minute—"

Franklin cuts her off, "If you remain in Derven, perhaps sometime in the future you will want to find yourself a husband. An invitation to hunt with the Head Huntress is rare—not to mention that she is also the Queen. You could not ask for a better mentor in such a fashion."

Clenching her jaw tight, she stares down at her plate.

Mora speaks softly, drawing the woman's eyes, "It is merely an offer, Sari—you can choose to decline and there will be no hard feelings. I know that you never felt accepted in Sceadu but here you would fit in better. You are more than welcome to live here, should you choose." She pauses a moment, before continuing, meeting the gaze of Lucas, Eric and finally Rick, "All of you are welcome to live here."

Tearing her eyes off of Rick, she reaches forward and plucks a roll from the platter. Bringing it up to her lips she bites it carefully and chews. Amyee lets out a startled cry, quickly muffling it; she reaches out and her hand finds Mora's, fingers wrapping around it. They exchange a solemn glance. Though those from Sceadu glance at each other confused, Franklin and Irving understand the gesture fully.

"What are your plans for this afternoon, my Lady?" Franklin asks after she finishes the roll.

"Irving and I will be training, in Laren's office."

"Oh," he says, his brows crinkling, "really?"

She nods, Irving looking at her questioningly, "Training—to fight? Laren taught me when he arrived."

"Well, he believes you need a refresher course," her gaze briefly flickers at Rick, "in case you are attacked in the future."

"We would be glad to help you," Eric offers; Sari and Lucas nod eagerly. Rick glances up from his plate and catches Mora's eyes; he slowly inclines his head in agreement.

"That would hardly be proper," she starts, "in Derven combat training is a very private affair. Generally it only involves a trainer and the trainee."

"Except for the guards, we train together regularly," Franklin points out, "twice a week."

"I think it would be an excellent idea," Irving says, flashing a wry smile at Mora when she gives him a perturbed look. He continues, "If I may be honest, Namora?"

"Because you haven't been so far?" She quips.

He laughs, "I would think it to be beneficial to get some pointers from those in Sceadu—their fighting style is substantially different, from my understanding; while I have the utmost confidence in your abilities, my Lady, I believe that they are more used to close, personal fights. I think that it could only improve your teachings if you show me how to adapt to a technique I might not know."

"He makes a very good point," Franklin says. "My afternoon is clear—I would like to learn as well. Anything new we could teach our guards could only enhance their abilities."

A soft frown mars Mora's lips; she glances to Amyee who only offers a shrug. "Fine," she replies, "best eat up, you'll need your energy."

Laren's office is comprised of two rooms; the first is a smaller actual office containing a desk, chairs, several cabinets and bookshelves holding various materials dedicated to the art of war, espionage, fighting techniques, accounts of past battles and the like. The second room is far larger; instead of the dark wooden floor that is spread throughout the castle, it is covered in a grey padded carpet, offering some give but still firm. Along one wall is a small rack containing a few weapons—swords, both long and short, spears and several bamboo staffs. Unlike Rick's tavern, there isn't an abundance of choice in weapon.

Those from Sceadu examine the weapons curiously, taking the swords into their hands and commenting on how light they are; Lucas is the one who points out the lack of variety, "I would have thought the Advisor of War would have more weapons to teach with."

Franklin stands against the far wall with his arms crossed over his chest, "We are taught to fight with whatever is on hand, though we train with these ones because they are what the guard usually carries."

When Mora grabs a bamboo staff, Sari eyes her, "You are going to fight—in a dress?"

Mora glances at Amyee and the pair laugh; Irving joins Franklin against the wall and the two chuckle. Mora tosses Amyee a staff, much to her friend's surprise, before she replies, "The women of Derven only wear pants when we are hunting in the woods during the Festival, otherwise we wear dresses. We were trained to fight in a dress. Perhaps next time someone attacks me, I should try to ask them to wait while I change into pants."

She motions Franklin over; everyone else gives them the floor. Franklin scowls and reluctantly follows, unsure what Mora's intentions are. Mora makes a few hand signals to Amyee, who gets a huge smile on her face in understanding. The two casually start to circle Franklin; he keeps his eyes trained on Mora but it is Amyee who makes the first swing. He barely notices it in time and ducks to roll out of the way. Out of empathy, Irving tosses a staff to him and he catches it, barely able to block a blow from Mora.

The two women alternate their attacks while continuing to circle them. Franklin fights back whole heartedly but when his feet are swept out from under him by Mora, Amyee dives and tackles him into the ground.

"I yield," he yips before she can do much more than that.

Laughing, she rises; Mora is glad to see a smile on Amyee's face.

Franklin grumbles to himself.

Irving looks over Mora, fully surprised. She catches his gaze and gives him a look, "What?"

"It is one thing to understand that women can fight, but another thing entirely to see it," he says.

Lucas snorts, "I will honestly admit that seeing Derven women fight at the battle scared the shit out of me. They moved in groups and fought in tandem just like Mora and Amyee—never in my life did I think women such as them existed."

Sari punches him in the shoulder with a scowl.

"They don't exist in Geofen, that is for sure," Irving adds.

"Are there any women trainers?" Sari wonders.

"No," Mora says, "all of the trainers are men."

"But," Franklin adds, "they teach women differently. The trainers understand that women have different skills about them and they show them other techniques. Add into it that women learn to hunt in groups during the Festival and they become a terrifying force." He hands the staff to Irving.

Mora nods for Amyee to join the others and she takes up a stance in front of Irving. He looks at her with a frown, "One on one?"

Glancing around, she quips, "Well if you want to ask one of the other men for help you are welcome to."

Everyone laughs but Irving, who continues, "I don't mean any offense, Namora, but I don't want to hurt you."

With a swift swing low to the ground, she knocks his feet out from under him before speaking, "Irving, you are the only man in this room that I haven't fought and beaten."

He lets out a surprised groan when he hits the mat, before glancing at the other men.

"She beat my ass into the ground with a staff the first night I met her—and I had a sword," Lucas says.

With a wince, Eric recalls, "I thought I had her pinned but she took me down with one swift kick."

Rick's eyes lock on Mora's, the bright blue orbs sending a chill down her spine when he speaks, "She killed me."

When everyone gasps, their eyes dart between the pair. The revelation is even a surprise to those from Sceadu; Eric's gaze falls on Rick, "Then how are you still standing here?"

"Mora's mother was one of us," Rick says, his attention never leaving her.

All eyes now fall on her; she can sense their tension, their apprehension, their awe at the creature that she is. Even if Franklin, Amyee and Irving don't fully comprehend what she is capable of, they can glean enough from the Sceaduians to know that she is an anomaly.

Ignoring their looks, she tilts her head to the side, staring at Irving, "Well, shall we see what you can do?"

The rest of the afternoon is spent in various stages of training; Mora takes on Lucas, Sari, Eric and even Rick briefly before turning each of them on to Irving while she shouts out suggestions from the side of the mat. He is quick to pick everything up and even in his tired state, he is able to best everyone but Rick. Mora watches the two soon to be Kings attack and evade, circling each other like predators, almost as if they are attempting to fight for her hand. After about an hour she calls them off, declaring their match a dead heat.

The tired group drag themselves back to the small dining room for supper, all of them too exhausted to bother with the pomp and circumstance of sitting according to peerage. As Mora leans back in her chair, slowly chewing on a mouthful of squash, she realizes the odd pairings that have occurred; Eric sits beside Amyee. He gazes on her with curiosity as she speaks, his eyes never wandering away from hers, a soft smile on his ruggedly handsome face. Amyee seems to be making more of an attempt than simply being polite, in fact Mora has never seen her talk as much to a man other than her brother.