The Beginning.
Freja: Morning dawns cold, Freja's breath clouding the air as she rises from her bedroll. Breakfast is cold, too; they can't risk a fire, even with the sky as slate-grey as it is. The Commander of the Kyrothi Shieldmaidens rolls up her bed and lashes it to the side of her horse before plucking jerky and a heel of hard bread from her saddlebags. Their stores are running dry, after nearly a month looking for the Eiran town they are supposed to be capturing. Their maps are worthless; landmarks where there isn't anything and distances all wrong. She silently sends up a prayer to Aisha, to watch over them, before she begins to rouse the camp.
They are camped in a small depression near a road that winds up and down the coast for miles. They've intercepted a rumor that the Prince's party will be traveling this way, and Freja only hopes that they've got the right road. Wouldn't that be lucky, she thinks, and snorts. Like this mission hasn't been one disaster after another.. The Shieldmaidens had been smuggled into Eiran in the hold of a merchant's sloop. As smugglings go, it wasn't Freja's worst, although it was the most expensive. Aversa's wolf had cost them a fortune, for the Captain was carrying sheep, and insisted they deposit a weighty sum in case Nanook got hungry. By the time they'd docked, a quarter of their gold was gone. Thankfully there hadn't been any guards about, and the seven shieldmaidens had enough time to purchase mounts and the few supplies they did not bring with them from Kyroth. Aversa had gotten more than a few stares, though, and Freja had ordered them away from the towns until they captured the town they were supposed to (Seahollow, at least she knew the name of it).
-------"Time for breakfast, everyone. Today is the day we wash the Eiran scum off the earth." Freja said cheerfully, taking a couple of bites of the jerky.
-------Even though killing the Eiran party was not a part of their mission, Freja couldn't help but think that it would make their job a lot easier. No more of this sneaking-around-the-countryside nonsense. "Let's go, ladies. The Eiran's aren't going to slaughter themselves."
Kleos: When he had mounted his horse in the courtyard of his home, his daughter had been crying.
Esen was never normally one to cry. She was a strong-willed young woman, normally fighting him at every turn. As a child she'd wanted to join her brother as he learnt how to spar. Kleos had gone as far as to allow her the same education: he was a fair man. But he had not gone any further, already the talk of court, because how could he allow his daughter to have an education normally reserved for men only?
Once he had been seated comfortably in the saddle, his son had shook his hand, and his wife had risen on her tiptoes to give his whiskery cheek a kiss. The entire family knew that there was a chance of him not coming back. He was on the older side now, edging closer to fifty with each passing year, and before long he would have to give up military service altogether. Cahal was ready to take his seat should he die, and Juliana would help him should he need it. A marriage had been arranged for Esen, though it was more than likely the engagement would be broken off and she would be married to some man from the Kyrothi. Multiple marriages between the nations would only make the alliance stronger. That was what the king had decreed, but to be on the safe side, it had been prudent to arrange a marriage within his own kingdom either way. That way, the future of his daughter was secured.
"Where are we going?" Sam's voice pierced the air. He was like a child, and had been since they started this journey to one of the bays. He was constantly asking questions, and if Kleos had had a hand spare he would have knocked the boy unconscious already, just to shut him up. The jester was easy to deal with in small doses, but any more than that and Kleos' nerves started to grate into nothing. And the boy continued.
Apparently a few seconds of silence is enough for him to feel like he was being ignored. Well, jesters always wanted to be the center of attention, didn't they?
"Do you know how to be quiet?" Kleos asked, though his voice was tired more than it was annoyed. "We've just set off, and you're hungry again. If you were part of the legions I would have had you flogged." Raising his hand, the grizzled veteran touched his fingertips to the torc around his neck. It was a decoration given to him decades ago now, for "conspicuous valour". He now had others; armillae and phalerae; battlement crowns, a gold crown, a civic crown. But the torc was the most important, and he would be damned if he died without it.
Before Sam could respond to his words, Oberyn piped up. His fellow noble looked dead on his feet - well, his horse - and it looked like the only thing keeping him sat squarely in the saddle was the guard next to him. Why he had seen fit to bring a guard with him when he was perfectly capable of defending himself just didn't make any sense. Their Crown Prince had no guard (unless you wanted to count Kleos, who had promised the prince's father he would look after him and keep him safe). Twisting in the saddle, he took in the sight of the other man once more, and took note of his tight, dry voice. At least he's drinking water, Kleos remarked silently to himself, if he was in his cups he'd be a risk to us all.
Nonetheless, he had to admit that Oberyn had a point. Flogging was probably the most used punishment in the legions, and Sam was here as a jester, not a soldier. Still, it would help if he stopped acting like a petulant child. This was not a royal procession or progress - this was a dangerous mission, and why the king had agreed to let the jester come was another thing he wasn't clear on. He'd have to have a chat when he got back. If you get back, his brain supplied sourly.
It was their prince who spoke next, declaring that they should flog the Kyrothi. Kleos had to crack a smile at that. The tone was light despite the barren scenery they were travelling through, and it certainly helped. He had a habit of thinking and expecting the worst, and while he always listened to his instincts, he needed to be reminded to relax at points. Juliana was forever telling him so.
"That we will, sire," he agreed, hand dropping back to the reins as he dug his heels into the flanks of his steed, trotting forwards to ride side by side with the young man he saw as a nephew, "just as soon as we find them. The sooner we stop them, the safer Eiran will be." There he was, being serious again. Juliana would have clouted him around the ears.
Freja: Freja's eyes flicker to Zella's rail-thin form, her heart constricting almost painfully at the sight of her. Still, Freja knows that they cannot afford to take the easy route, and that Zella can judge for herself when she's beginning to take the ruse too far.
-------"Zella, I think we shall use you as bait for our lovely Eirians." Freja paused, momentarily drawn off-track by Tae, Eydis, and Xena's interruptions. The mountain woman's input Freja dismissed, not out of jealousy or any sort of petty feeling, but by the fact that any good Eiranian would stop for a pretty young woman in need - after all, women were seen as defenseless in this country. It was unlikely that any of the Eirans would recognize her, but Freja had no doubt that Zella would take measures to avoid being scrutinized too closely.
-------"Zella will not arouse their suspicions, surely. I am confident that any good Eiran soldier would stop and help a distraught young woman - the prince wouldn't want to be seen as unsympathetic to the plights of his people." The commander smiled, teeth flashing. "This time, Xena, I do believe we will allow Zella the honor." She spoke curtly, though her words were tinged with the promise of there will be time for your own talents in the future.
-------To Eydis Freja turned to last, lips pressing together firmly. "I have a job for you. Wake the rest of the girls, see to it that they eat something. And tell them to set their gear in order. I'll be sending Zella out in a half-hour, and they'll be pulling double watches tonight if they're not up and in order when we move."
They are camped in a small depression near a road that winds up and down the coast for miles. They've intercepted a rumor that the Prince's party will be traveling this way, and Freja only hopes that they've got the right road. Wouldn't that be lucky, she thinks, and snorts. Like this mission hasn't been one disaster after another.. The Shieldmaidens had been smuggled into Eiran in the hold of a merchant's sloop. As smugglings go, it wasn't Freja's worst, although it was the most expensive. Aversa's wolf had cost them a fortune, for the Captain was carrying sheep, and insisted they deposit a weighty sum in case Nanook got hungry. By the time they'd docked, a quarter of their gold was gone. Thankfully there hadn't been any guards about, and the seven shieldmaidens had enough time to purchase mounts and the few supplies they did not bring with them from Kyroth. Aversa had gotten more than a few stares, though, and Freja had ordered them away from the towns until they captured the town they were supposed to (Seahollow, at least she knew the name of it).
-------"Time for breakfast, everyone. Today is the day we wash the Eiran scum off the earth." Freja said cheerfully, taking a couple of bites of the jerky.
-------Even though killing the Eiran party was not a part of their mission, Freja couldn't help but think that it would make their job a lot easier. No more of this sneaking-around-the-countryside nonsense. "Let's go, ladies. The Eiran's aren't going to slaughter themselves."
Kleos: When he had mounted his horse in the courtyard of his home, his daughter had been crying.
Esen was never normally one to cry. She was a strong-willed young woman, normally fighting him at every turn. As a child she'd wanted to join her brother as he learnt how to spar. Kleos had gone as far as to allow her the same education: he was a fair man. But he had not gone any further, already the talk of court, because how could he allow his daughter to have an education normally reserved for men only?
Once he had been seated comfortably in the saddle, his son had shook his hand, and his wife had risen on her tiptoes to give his whiskery cheek a kiss. The entire family knew that there was a chance of him not coming back. He was on the older side now, edging closer to fifty with each passing year, and before long he would have to give up military service altogether. Cahal was ready to take his seat should he die, and Juliana would help him should he need it. A marriage had been arranged for Esen, though it was more than likely the engagement would be broken off and she would be married to some man from the Kyrothi. Multiple marriages between the nations would only make the alliance stronger. That was what the king had decreed, but to be on the safe side, it had been prudent to arrange a marriage within his own kingdom either way. That way, the future of his daughter was secured.
"Where are we going?" Sam's voice pierced the air. He was like a child, and had been since they started this journey to one of the bays. He was constantly asking questions, and if Kleos had had a hand spare he would have knocked the boy unconscious already, just to shut him up. The jester was easy to deal with in small doses, but any more than that and Kleos' nerves started to grate into nothing. And the boy continued.
Apparently a few seconds of silence is enough for him to feel like he was being ignored. Well, jesters always wanted to be the center of attention, didn't they?
"Do you know how to be quiet?" Kleos asked, though his voice was tired more than it was annoyed. "We've just set off, and you're hungry again. If you were part of the legions I would have had you flogged." Raising his hand, the grizzled veteran touched his fingertips to the torc around his neck. It was a decoration given to him decades ago now, for "conspicuous valour". He now had others; armillae and phalerae; battlement crowns, a gold crown, a civic crown. But the torc was the most important, and he would be damned if he died without it.
Before Sam could respond to his words, Oberyn piped up. His fellow noble looked dead on his feet - well, his horse - and it looked like the only thing keeping him sat squarely in the saddle was the guard next to him. Why he had seen fit to bring a guard with him when he was perfectly capable of defending himself just didn't make any sense. Their Crown Prince had no guard (unless you wanted to count Kleos, who had promised the prince's father he would look after him and keep him safe). Twisting in the saddle, he took in the sight of the other man once more, and took note of his tight, dry voice. At least he's drinking water, Kleos remarked silently to himself, if he was in his cups he'd be a risk to us all.
Nonetheless, he had to admit that Oberyn had a point. Flogging was probably the most used punishment in the legions, and Sam was here as a jester, not a soldier. Still, it would help if he stopped acting like a petulant child. This was not a royal procession or progress - this was a dangerous mission, and why the king had agreed to let the jester come was another thing he wasn't clear on. He'd have to have a chat when he got back. If you get back, his brain supplied sourly.
It was their prince who spoke next, declaring that they should flog the Kyrothi. Kleos had to crack a smile at that. The tone was light despite the barren scenery they were travelling through, and it certainly helped. He had a habit of thinking and expecting the worst, and while he always listened to his instincts, he needed to be reminded to relax at points. Juliana was forever telling him so.
"That we will, sire," he agreed, hand dropping back to the reins as he dug his heels into the flanks of his steed, trotting forwards to ride side by side with the young man he saw as a nephew, "just as soon as we find them. The sooner we stop them, the safer Eiran will be." There he was, being serious again. Juliana would have clouted him around the ears.
Freja: Freja's eyes flicker to Zella's rail-thin form, her heart constricting almost painfully at the sight of her. Still, Freja knows that they cannot afford to take the easy route, and that Zella can judge for herself when she's beginning to take the ruse too far.
-------"Zella, I think we shall use you as bait for our lovely Eirians." Freja paused, momentarily drawn off-track by Tae, Eydis, and Xena's interruptions. The mountain woman's input Freja dismissed, not out of jealousy or any sort of petty feeling, but by the fact that any good Eiranian would stop for a pretty young woman in need - after all, women were seen as defenseless in this country. It was unlikely that any of the Eirans would recognize her, but Freja had no doubt that Zella would take measures to avoid being scrutinized too closely.
-------"Zella will not arouse their suspicions, surely. I am confident that any good Eiran soldier would stop and help a distraught young woman - the prince wouldn't want to be seen as unsympathetic to the plights of his people." The commander smiled, teeth flashing. "This time, Xena, I do believe we will allow Zella the honor." She spoke curtly, though her words were tinged with the promise of there will be time for your own talents in the future.
-------To Eydis Freja turned to last, lips pressing together firmly. "I have a job for you. Wake the rest of the girls, see to it that they eat something. And tell them to set their gear in order. I'll be sending Zella out in a half-hour, and they'll be pulling double watches tonight if they're not up and in order when we move."