((Contains reference to adult activities.))
An army encampment is a strange sort of place, especially when it has been in place for years. It becomes a sort of tented city, with merchants and wives and children, and all the other little things a city can offer living alongside the soldiers who train and fight and take on missions given to them by their commanders. Shaye fell easily into step with the way of life, recognizing it as following the order of the days she had spent as a recruit all those years ago. Gregor Makos took particular delight in ordering the First Blade of Arctra around, if only because of the genuine astonishment on the faces of his other men when Shaye did as she was ordered with only a grin for her old sergeant. With Liam often in war councils, she was left to her own devices, refusing to be a part of the planning unless she had information they needed, and today was no exception.
The grunt of bodies and slap of wooden sparring swords rang out from Makos' training ground, and very soon a small crowd had gathered. The First Blade was proving how she had stayed alive all these years, three cocky soldiers at a time. There was already a group of nine resting at the edge of the ground, each of them bearing bruises in uncomfortable places, watching as Shaye Dervla beat the ever living crap out of the three biggest men in her husband's army.
War councils seemed to take up most of Liam's time of late, though not so much that he did not have time to do his husbandly duty and keep his wife satisfied. It galled him that he could not share all their plans with her, but they could not chance Velasca finding out if she was to encounter the First Blade again before she was defeated. Most days, he knew where to find his lovely wife, and today was no exception. He knew better than to challenge the First Blade to a spar. If by some chance he managed to beat her - and it was uncertain whether or not he would - he could very well find himself in the precarious position of assuming the title of First Blade. Knowing all he did, it was a chance he could not take. He could, however, amuse himself by watching her defeat every challenger who entered the yard, including his own second. Conall was no slouch when it came to a sword, but there were few who could meet the skill of the First Blade.
Today seemed to be a lesson in humility for some of the troublemakers in the army. Men who couldn't keep their mouths shut, men who sneered at orders, men who drank too much, who thought too highly of their own dubious skill in battle. Men who needed taking down a notch or two. And these last three had watched nine of their comrades beaten down by one woman, bearing one sparring sword, in the last hour.
From the edge of the field, Makos' voice bellowed out, "Get on with it! Show us why you need no training! She's just one woman!"
Shaye grinned at the decidedly uncomfortable men in front of her. "You heard the man," she taunted them, her sword circling in her hand. "Come and get me, boys."
After a moment's hesitation, the biggest of the three charged with a roar. Shaye side-stepped easily, tripped him with one out-stretched foot, and spanked his rear end hard with her sparring sword before tapping his back with the point.
"Dead!" Makos roared, and a cheer went up from the small crowd watching as the other two attacked the First Blade.
It really was pitiful how quickly they, too, went down - one with a knee to his bollocks and a sweep of the long, smooth wooden blade across his neck, the other with a broken nose and the equivalent of his guts hanging out. With their audience's laughter ringing in their ears, they didn't dare take offense at being beaten by the First Blade. After all, there was no dishonor in it, even if she had won depressingly fast.
"She takes far too much pleasure in beating them," Liam remarked to Makos as he strode into the yard, fresh from a meeting with the Wild Ones, crunching on an apple he held in his hand. His Second was nowhere in sight, off working on some project of his own in preparation for the battle to come. Dusk would bring them all together again for the evening meal, but for now Liam welcomed a few moments of amusement spent watching his wife kick the tar out of the more arrogant of the group.
"This lot deserved it," his step-father told him, watching as Shaye shook hands with the men she'd just humiliated. "Men who can't keep their opinions to themselves need teaching a lesson; who better than the First Blade to do it?" He glanced at Liam with a grin of his own. "That one rubbing his arse" Spent most of last night declaring that no woman had ever been born who deserved the honor of a weapon in her hand." He laughed. "Still think she enjoyed that too much?"
"Hmph," Liam grunted a reply as he took another bite of the apple. "Even I was never so arrogant as that. I doubt he will repeat that remark." Now that their Commander had entered the yard, there would be no more insults of mutterings regarding the First Blade, so long as he was in range of hearing. "Do you think we've been too easy on them, Gregor?" Refugees came to them from all over Arctra, eager to fight, but often with little or no skills. It was up to them to mold them into soldiers, just as Gregor Makos had once molded a young Liam O'Connor and Shaye Dervla.
There was a pause while Gregor put together his answer. He was an old soldier by now, but by no means unfit for battle, his temperament ideally suited for commanding on the ground in the midst of a bloody fight. And even more perfectly suited to training the ragtag of men and women eager to fight for the true Queen, whoever and wherever she might be. "Haven't had a good fight in more than a year," he commented finally. "Soldiers get lazy, lack discipline, when there's no fighting to be had. One good battle, and they'll be hard again. They're good lads and lasses for the most part, and the ones that give trouble know better than to do it openly."
"They'll get their fill of battle soon enough," Liam remarked, taking a final bite from his apple and tossing the core aside. Though he had not shared everything Liayna had told him, Makos was his most trusted general, not to mention an old friend and his step-father. If there was anyone Liam trusted, it was Makos, and he had shared with the older man as much as he dared.
"Aye, they will," the sergeant nodded, interrupting himself to bellow out a drill order across the field. Too many people standing around doing nothing, and now they had drill to do. Shaye slipped out of the way, not prepared to spend the next hour waving her wooden sword at nothing just to please her old sergeant. Gregor chuckled as she skipped hurriedly off the field. "And how is married life treating you, lad?"
An army encampment is a strange sort of place, especially when it has been in place for years. It becomes a sort of tented city, with merchants and wives and children, and all the other little things a city can offer living alongside the soldiers who train and fight and take on missions given to them by their commanders. Shaye fell easily into step with the way of life, recognizing it as following the order of the days she had spent as a recruit all those years ago. Gregor Makos took particular delight in ordering the First Blade of Arctra around, if only because of the genuine astonishment on the faces of his other men when Shaye did as she was ordered with only a grin for her old sergeant. With Liam often in war councils, she was left to her own devices, refusing to be a part of the planning unless she had information they needed, and today was no exception.
The grunt of bodies and slap of wooden sparring swords rang out from Makos' training ground, and very soon a small crowd had gathered. The First Blade was proving how she had stayed alive all these years, three cocky soldiers at a time. There was already a group of nine resting at the edge of the ground, each of them bearing bruises in uncomfortable places, watching as Shaye Dervla beat the ever living crap out of the three biggest men in her husband's army.
War councils seemed to take up most of Liam's time of late, though not so much that he did not have time to do his husbandly duty and keep his wife satisfied. It galled him that he could not share all their plans with her, but they could not chance Velasca finding out if she was to encounter the First Blade again before she was defeated. Most days, he knew where to find his lovely wife, and today was no exception. He knew better than to challenge the First Blade to a spar. If by some chance he managed to beat her - and it was uncertain whether or not he would - he could very well find himself in the precarious position of assuming the title of First Blade. Knowing all he did, it was a chance he could not take. He could, however, amuse himself by watching her defeat every challenger who entered the yard, including his own second. Conall was no slouch when it came to a sword, but there were few who could meet the skill of the First Blade.
Today seemed to be a lesson in humility for some of the troublemakers in the army. Men who couldn't keep their mouths shut, men who sneered at orders, men who drank too much, who thought too highly of their own dubious skill in battle. Men who needed taking down a notch or two. And these last three had watched nine of their comrades beaten down by one woman, bearing one sparring sword, in the last hour.
From the edge of the field, Makos' voice bellowed out, "Get on with it! Show us why you need no training! She's just one woman!"
Shaye grinned at the decidedly uncomfortable men in front of her. "You heard the man," she taunted them, her sword circling in her hand. "Come and get me, boys."
After a moment's hesitation, the biggest of the three charged with a roar. Shaye side-stepped easily, tripped him with one out-stretched foot, and spanked his rear end hard with her sparring sword before tapping his back with the point.
"Dead!" Makos roared, and a cheer went up from the small crowd watching as the other two attacked the First Blade.
It really was pitiful how quickly they, too, went down - one with a knee to his bollocks and a sweep of the long, smooth wooden blade across his neck, the other with a broken nose and the equivalent of his guts hanging out. With their audience's laughter ringing in their ears, they didn't dare take offense at being beaten by the First Blade. After all, there was no dishonor in it, even if she had won depressingly fast.
"She takes far too much pleasure in beating them," Liam remarked to Makos as he strode into the yard, fresh from a meeting with the Wild Ones, crunching on an apple he held in his hand. His Second was nowhere in sight, off working on some project of his own in preparation for the battle to come. Dusk would bring them all together again for the evening meal, but for now Liam welcomed a few moments of amusement spent watching his wife kick the tar out of the more arrogant of the group.
"This lot deserved it," his step-father told him, watching as Shaye shook hands with the men she'd just humiliated. "Men who can't keep their opinions to themselves need teaching a lesson; who better than the First Blade to do it?" He glanced at Liam with a grin of his own. "That one rubbing his arse" Spent most of last night declaring that no woman had ever been born who deserved the honor of a weapon in her hand." He laughed. "Still think she enjoyed that too much?"
"Hmph," Liam grunted a reply as he took another bite of the apple. "Even I was never so arrogant as that. I doubt he will repeat that remark." Now that their Commander had entered the yard, there would be no more insults of mutterings regarding the First Blade, so long as he was in range of hearing. "Do you think we've been too easy on them, Gregor?" Refugees came to them from all over Arctra, eager to fight, but often with little or no skills. It was up to them to mold them into soldiers, just as Gregor Makos had once molded a young Liam O'Connor and Shaye Dervla.
There was a pause while Gregor put together his answer. He was an old soldier by now, but by no means unfit for battle, his temperament ideally suited for commanding on the ground in the midst of a bloody fight. And even more perfectly suited to training the ragtag of men and women eager to fight for the true Queen, whoever and wherever she might be. "Haven't had a good fight in more than a year," he commented finally. "Soldiers get lazy, lack discipline, when there's no fighting to be had. One good battle, and they'll be hard again. They're good lads and lasses for the most part, and the ones that give trouble know better than to do it openly."
"They'll get their fill of battle soon enough," Liam remarked, taking a final bite from his apple and tossing the core aside. Though he had not shared everything Liayna had told him, Makos was his most trusted general, not to mention an old friend and his step-father. If there was anyone Liam trusted, it was Makos, and he had shared with the older man as much as he dared.
"Aye, they will," the sergeant nodded, interrupting himself to bellow out a drill order across the field. Too many people standing around doing nothing, and now they had drill to do. Shaye slipped out of the way, not prepared to spend the next hour waving her wooden sword at nothing just to please her old sergeant. Gregor chuckled as she skipped hurriedly off the field. "And how is married life treating you, lad?"