"Hello, mother," Alena dipped her head to the Queen, who smiled back at her. Beside her, Mulius sank into a deep bow, which the Queen waved him out of. "Were you looking for me?"
Queen Cirala eyed Mulius with a smile, and spoke in a smooth-as-honey voice. "Yes, Alena. Your father wants us to go on a diplomatic mission. Choose your guard of three, and meet us in the Throne Room." She dipped her head, patted Na'ta, and strolled off, bow slung across her back and sliding gently against the silks of her dress.
Alena's eyebrows came together in confusion. It was strange of her father to send her and her mother, but surely this was a sign of his good favor? It took several minutes for her to realize she was still standing outside the Armory, with Mulius in tow. When she heard him clear his throat and shuffle his boots, her head whipped around to face him. "You. What is this Youth Soldier squadron you lead? I haven't heard of it, and you do not have the look of a soldier." Rather than feign knowledge, Alena let her thoughts be known; honesty for honesty. And it was true he didn't look like the other soldiers. He was well-built, muscles clear through his shirt, but his chestnut hair fell in loose curls around his pale face. His jaw was sculpted and strong, his shoulders held back in confidence. Yet he had none of the hardened, distant look experienced soldiers held in their eyes. He didn't eye everyone as a possible threat, nor did he analyze everyone who passed them. She could see genuine curiosity and compassion in his caramel eyes.
Confusion also showed clearly in his eyes and across his face as he tilted his head. "The Youth Soldier squadron? It's a fairly new squadron, I admit, but established firmly enough. I hear it was the Prince's doing. A force of youth to go where adults would be suspect. You know, fighting rings, outlying cities that fear the army, those things."
Alena shook her head. Of course Krin had pulled together a squadron in the army, he was trying to encroach on her domain. It was no secret the army were her men and women, and one of his shortcomings. But now that she had a chance to prove her diplomatic abilities, she could not pass it up. "You're coming with me, Captain Mulius. We have some stops to make."
Alena stopped outside a wooden door with a slit in it in the worst slum. Mulius shifted beside her, visibly uncomfortable. She rapped quickly on the door and stared the person on the other side of the slit dead in the eye. It creaked open just enough to grant them entrance and slammed shut behind them. Alena gazed around the run-down, grimy fighters' den, one hand between Na'ta's ears. The men that were sober enough to recognize her raised a flagon to her, and those too drunk simply shouted. She led Mulius to the bar, dropping a handful of silvers on the stained wood. "Where is He." Not a question, but a demand. The bartender nods gruffly to an opening in the wall next to him. Shouts, curses and thumps come from the other side, as well as the sharp smell of blood.
Alena did not thank him; she didn't need to. She has known him for years, earned him more money in cuts from her own fights than he could count. She strolled through the doorway, blending into the crowd, disappearing under the reek of alcohol. She did not bother to wait for Mulius, gesturing quickly for Na'ta to stay with him, and slid easily into the crowd. Those who didn't move for her were moved by her, until she was at the edge of the pit. All around her men and women hooted and cursed at the two fighters circling like big cats. One of them was a full-grown man, easily past his fortieth year, with a head of black hair and arms bigger around than Alena's head. He was tall and obviously strong, and obscenities flew from his fair- and bloodied- face with surprising speed, considering his bottom lip was severely swollen and a few teeth were missing from the front. His opponent was a much younger boy, only twenty, and at least a head shorter. His skin was darker than Alena's, his head shaved bald, and his skin littered with tattoos. His right eye was swollen almost shut, and his knuckles were covered in blood, but he did not stumble like the grown man. He was much heavier, with just as much strength but more fat on him.
The fight moved slowly, the two circling before the slurring man charged forward to swing and the boy reacted calmly. The fight also did not last much longer. The man, now obviously weaker, threw all his effort into one last left-handed punch, which the boy took to the cheek and returned with his own punch that sent the man toppling to the ground in an unconscious heap. The crowd erupted, and collectors went about their business, taking and doling out profits, keeping a cut for the house. As two bruisers carried the man away, Alena dropped into the pit across from the boy.
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He eyed her from across the pit, hands in loose fists at his sides. The crowd fell to a hush as she strode to the middle of the pit, just across the line, and held one fist up level with her heart, thumb towards herself. He ambled slowly to her, slowly bringing up one large fist and touching the side of it to hers. She held back a smile as she led him out of the pit, the drunken crowd watching parting the way to the door. Mulius and Na'ta waited just inside the entryway, Mulius looking like a mouse in a room of cats. Without saying a word she led them through the door, out of the fighting club, and back into the slums.
They had walked for several minutes before Alena broke the silence. "Atir. This is Mulius. He's a captain. Mulius, this is Atir. We used to fight together. We have one more stop before we go back to the Castle."
Atir eyed Mulius carefully as he spoke, his voice low and gruff. "Kasara?" When Alena nodded, he went on. "Is he safe? I don't know what's going on, but I don't like it, Little Lynx." Na'ta dropped back from Alena's side to Atir's, who rubbed her cheek and patted her shoulder.
Alena laughed lightly at her fighting name. "Come now, Grizzly Bear. Would I lead you to a trap? Besides, I would like to see him try to arrest either of us." Mulius did not answer, only gritted his teeth and narrowed his eyes.
The group strolled through the streets, making their way back into the market square. Merchants were either packing up their stalls or trying to sell one last good as the sun started to sink below the horizon. A mother plucked clothes hanging from a line as her children ran around her, using sticks as toy swords outside their home. Further down, an elderly man begged for coins; Alena dropped two gold coins into his palms as they passed. A man offered promises of happiness and heightened awareness from an alley. A seamstress argued with a woman who tried to pay her less than she believed was right. People were always bustling through the marketplace, and the transition into the upper-class district was visible. Mothers did not fetch their laundry, but sent servants for it from their two-story homes. Music drifted from several windows, most of it shoddy at best. Candlelight flickered in studies, the smell of cooking meats wafted through doors, and voices rang in polite tones. There was no barking wares, nor rowdy children.
Though Alena belonged anywhere in her kingdom she wanted to be, and Mulius carried himself with the confidence of a noble, Atir was painfully out of place; his clothes were ragged and blood-stained, his eye now swollen shut completely, yet he refused to shrink himself. He followed Alena without question or concern, whereas Mulius' eyes continuously darted around and his hand flew to his sword and the slightest sound.
Alena led them onward, though, until they came to a house with a small flag flying from an upstairs window, black and adorned with a golden greatsword. Alena knocked once on the door and waited. Finally, a short, elderly woman cracked open the door. When she realized whose face she was looking up into, she hurried to open the door the rest of the way and welcome them in. The servant, a nursemaid Alena knew, led them to the sitting room and rushed up the stairs.
Alena sat on a sofa, Na'ta resting at her feet, when a girl the same age as Alena entered the room. The group stood to greet her, and Alena walked forward to pull her into a tight embrace. The girl looked younger than Alena, with porcelain skin, baby blue eyes, honey gold hair, and none of her scars, and came up only to her cheek, but held herself with the same confidence. When the girls separated, Alena gestured to Mulius and Atir. "Kasara, this is Mulius, and you know Atir." Na'ta came up to the girl and licked at her hand, rubbing her head against her thigh. "I need you to come back to the Castle with me."
Kasara looked at her friend in mild surprise. "Now? The sun is set; I can spend the night then, I assume?" When Alena nodded, she went on in an overly dramatic fashion, "Well, then, I suppose I must. When one is called upon by Her Greatness, one would be smart not to deny, lest they find themselves at the wrong end of your scorn and your sword!" She laughed and crouched down to give Na'ta a hug, before turning to her former nurse, who waited in the corner. "Tyna, would you please tell my mother I'll be spending the night with Alena?" When the old woman nodded and hurried off, Kasara made a dramatic sweep toward the door with her dress sleeve, "Well, then, we are off!"