“Jess, get up! Evening practice!”

A groggy Jess forced herself to waken upon hearing Malek's insistent knocking. A faint surge of her will and the door opened with hardly a sound, Malek pale-faced and swallowing before he shook it off with a smile. "A mage you are not, Shieldsister, but there's no one else I'd rather have fighting by my side."

Jess grinned. “You're just saying that because no arrow will dare mark my flesh.”

Malek winked. “That could have something to do with it. Wood likes you, shieldsister.” His frown turned serious then. “Of course, with what's coming... it isn't your peers fighting in jest.”

Jess swallowed and nodded. "But men who would kill us if they could."

Her friend nodded. “Will your gift hold, even when men are doing everything they can to spear us dead?”

Jess grimaced. “I can only hope, Malek. I can only hope.” She refused to meet his gaze.

Malek's frowned, gently stroking back locks of carefully dyed hair. “Jess, what's wrong?”

A shuddering sigh was her only response. “Come on, Malek, let's train.”

A short time later found Jess fully kitted once more, securing her helm with a final tightening of its strap, thankful as always that Eloquin had insisted on his Squires being equipped with the best quality steel armor the kingdom had to offer. Whereas most troopers were lucky for a simple bowl helm of iron that might or might not have been at all hardened by the charcoal it was baked in, Jess and her peers had been gifted with custom fitted helms of quality steel that protected her head from all angles of attack, with a visor to raise and lower as needed. It was an exquisite reminder of just how deeply General Eloquin and the Crown itself had invested in its Squires.

And Lady Putrice would be all too happy to take that away from Jess, if she could.

Smooth as silk, Jess withdrew her training blade, alike her longsword in terms of length and balance, save for exceedingly blunt edges and a rolled back tip to assure she wouldn't accidentally penetrate even naked flesh with too hard a thrust, for all that her opponent would feel the force of the blow.

“Are you ready, Jess?” Malek asked some moments later once she had stepped out onto the training field, and Jess could sense his smile, even through his lowered visor as Rowan cheered them on.

“Impress me, Jess! Let's show these lads what Valkyries are capable of!”

Jess grinned at a beaming Rowan, doing her best not to let her friend's stare distract her focus even as she saluted Malek and they began their deadly dance, blades in Ochs, points aimed at each other's throats, each measuring the other, gauging shifts in balance and breath, before exploding into action.

Jess lashed out, stepping forward and to the right, attempting to seize the Vor with a quick, snapping Zwerchhau strike, her wrists quickly windmilling her blade for a devastating blow to Malek's left temple.

The clang of steel as Malek managed to counter the blow, their blades pressed against one another, feeling each other's strengths and weaknesses, Malek seizing his moment, attempting to power through the bind, blasting forward off his back foot in a blow that could well have spit Jess cleanly through, had she been unarmored against live steel.

As it was, she had already spun to her left, meeting his strength with weakness, her blade flowing free of the bind even as Malek rushed forward, Jess stepping out of his line of attack as she snapped her hips, her blade whistling through the air in a tight arc, smacking the back of her friend's helm even as he stumbled past, unable to ward himself in time.

As one they stepped away and bowed. Rowan, visor raised, clapping Jess's armored shoulder and smiled, her sensual gaze sending Jess's heart aflutter.

"Well done, sister of the blade! And now I shall best a far too confident looking Neal." And how did her friend manage to look so elegant when heat and sweat were the price they all paid, no matter that Eloquin relegated training in full armor to the hours around dusk and dawn? Yet before Jess could untie her tongue, Rowan was off with Neal, the pair chatting animatedly before visors were lowered and their own match begun in earnest.

Jess blinked and turned her gaze where it belonged, noting Malek's brooding countenance.

“Are you all right, shieldbrother?”

Malek offered a rueful chuckle. "And here I was, worried about you. But the way you were gazing at Rowan, it seems you are yourself, once more."

Jess grinned. "At least I know where I stand with the longsword, even if a certain girl's gaze does throw me off, sometimes. Too bad I messed things up so royally on horseback this morning."

Malek shrugged. "Your form was perfect if you were charging into the crush, but of course we were miming hit and run skirmishes. Don't worry it like a dog's bone, Shieldsister. In some ways, using the estoc as we do is trickier than the lance. We have to angle our blows and immediately dip downward after spearing footmen, or lurch and twist in our saddles if we lance horsemen so that our foe's body twists around, and the only strain we feel is when our estoc is pulled free of our foes by the power of our own mount, before we ready our blades once more."

Jess nodded. "The shock of impact and ruptured organs means that once our sword punches through, that's one foe out of the fight. Still, it's damn hard sometimes not to pierce our targets straight on, and then we must let go if we do not want to risk a broken wrist, even if our foe is as good as dead."

Malek nodded. "And then it's a simpler affair. We draw Eloquin's brilliantly forged cavalry sabers, designed so well for the battlefield as opposed to Velheim's fencing salons, and slice our foes wide open, whether they are on horse or foot."

Jess nodded. “For all that the longswords we seek to master allow us to be kings upon the field when on foot, readying us for the Zweihanders we will wield one day, on horseback it is saber or war hammer that will decide if the battle is won or lost, once lances break in the charge and estocs are no longer in play. And it is those weapons we must be ready to use when king and Crown cry havoc..."

"… and release their hounds of war." A dry chuckle followed. Malek stiffened even as Jess grimaced and forced herself to turn around, facing the most arrogant of students, Mord de Plaga himself.

Sleek of build with saturnine features and a mocking gaze, his arrogance was not without merit. He was as handsome as any king, and twice as proud. After humiliating her so thoroughly the very first day she had attended Highrock, Jess still trembled with what she was sure was fury whenever his hungry gaze caught her own.

“That is one thing I admire about you, Jess. For all that you failed miserably to earn your spurs as a Knight Aspirant, being found unworthy of Lord Hyve's glorious ranks, you still persevered like the most noble of fighting hounds, determined to make something of yourself, even if it is learning to fight in the trenches, as ruthless and savage as any assassin, learning the darkest tricks of the trade.”

His twisted grin she recognized all too well, yet his words surprised her. “Truly, I can almost admire that, Jessica de Calenbry. I said you belonged in a dress from the day we met, serving her master as is every woman's lot, but you have made it quite clear that yours is a fierce spirit, not easily broken.”

He radiated an odd sort of approval, save for his mocking gaze. "In fact, your skills with the longsword are almost... passable. Not that you will ever be my equal, of course. Something we established the first and only time we ever crossed blades."

“Any time, any place, Mord.” Nostrils flaring, Jess's pride still stung from their first and only match.

Mord chuckled dryly. "I think not, girl. We already established who is the master, and who is destined to serve. No need to confuse the issue any further, I think. Not that you will get much chance to do such, in any case," he said, his taunting voice causing Jess's heart to race, and she understood in that moment that he knew everything.

“What the blazes are you talking about, Mord?” Malek demanded.

"Oh, you didn't hear? Your dear little shieldsister is forbidden to participate in the dark revels General Eloquin, with his deliciously savage reputation, has chosen for you to embrace."

This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

"Jess, what the hell is he talking about?" Malek tore off his helmet, his gaze a mixture of fury and confusion.

Jess swallowed and lowered her gaze. “Lady Putrice,” she whispered. “If I don't start wearing dresses and surrender my bid to be a Squire of War... she will seek to have me expelled from the school.”

“Bloody hells!”

Mord smirked. "Oh yes, dear Malek. It appears your shieldsister is not exactly a scholar. In fact, she is, perhaps, the worst student every to attend this school. Lady Putrice knows that our dear Jessica being here as anything other than the daughter of a named lord being groomed for her future master... I mean husband, is a joke, a farce, a waste of a good seat a true scholar could put to better use. So, if dear Jessica does not apply herself to her familial duty at once, she will be expelled."

Jess trembled, clenching her fists tightly together, not trusting herself to say a word.

“And how the hell do you know this, Plaga?”

Mord did not even deign to answer Malek's question, pinning Jess with his taunting gaze. "I told you I would see you in a dress, Jessica de Calenbry. And you've filled out in all the right places this last year, for all that your shoulders are too damned thick for any proper girl." He chuckled softly. "Fret not. Lady Putrice will try to make your taming as painless as possible. I understand she is holding a gala the very night Eloquin would have us blacken our daggers for king and Crown. What a remarkable coincidence. Who knows? Perhaps if you apply kohl and blush, I will even consent to let you attend me during the revels Eloquin honors all those who serve the king's dark cause."

Jess gazed at Mord in speechless horror, at a complete loss for words.

“Wait, bloody hells, you're blackening your dagger? You, Mord?” Malek's gaze was incredulous.

Mord grinned. "Why yes, Malek. As you no doubt know, Eloquin and Hyve have their understandings. For all that it is not required, being as we Aspirants are the elite troops, Hyve has made it clear that blooding ourselves for king and country is a grave duty we will all be expected to embrace one day, and what better time and place than offering our assistance to our lessers? So we too can appreciate what life is like in the muck, I suppose."

Malek shook his head. "I thought the entire lot of you were either too damned arrogant or too damned scared to actually blacken your daggers for anyone. There is no glory in what we're going to do, Mord."

Mord's eyes flashed. "Don't you dare question my motives, wretch!" He grimaced and blinked, mocking smile once more in place. "I will say this. At least I know you can use a sword. And whatever you might think, a few of us aren't afraid to get dirty for the sake of a higher... cause." With a dry little chuckle, he turned about on his heels and sauntered off with a mocking wave and final words. "I look forward to seeing what you are really made of in the heat of battle, Malek. And Jess? I look forward to seeing you in a dress. And then seeing you take it off."

“Blood bastard!” Jess hissed some moments later, trembling with humiliated fury. “He will not win... I will not let him!”

Her fury quenched to dismay, however, when she saw the look on Malek's face.

“Jess. What did Lady Putrice do? What did she say? Bloody hells, is that a mark on your face?” He shook his head. “No. It's already faded. There's no way that could have happened today, but why didn't I see that mark before?”

Jess frowned, glancing once for her cat, but he, as was often the case, was attending to his own mysterious duties, and would attend her in his own good time.

“Jess?”

Jess shook herself, wondering why she had even bothered removing her helmet, knowing questions would be asked. But she was determined not to flinch away from ugly truths. "You and I and sixty odd Squires are to be blooded in three day's time, Malek. Those of us willing to answer the King's Call, anyway. Neal, Rowan, and a handful of others are the only veterans of any earlier engagements still at this school. For most of us? This will be our first. And this is to be a secret, a dead secret, with dire consequences for anyone who reveals a word, though Neal let it be known that rumor always follows us, and as long as no one dares mention our target or tactics, all is forgiven."

Jess gazed down at her clenched fists. "And for Lady Putrice to plan her gala the very night of our departure, to align with all my teachers to see me expelled if I don't comply with her wishes, seeking to overrule Lord Eloquin himself with every professor who has ever scolded or castigated me since I first got here, I'm sure." Jess scowled. "Somehow, my mother is involved. I just know it!"

Malek grimaced and nodded. “It was wonderful, visiting your family for the winter solstice. But even then I could tell that for all that your father and brother were proud of you, your mother was eyeing you like a cat would a bird she would bat from the air, if she could.”

Jess chuckled ruefully. "That's about it. I love her with all my heart, and the fact that I'm good with plants has redeemed any number of my numerous flaws in her eyes. But for all that she was ever content to let me putter about the orchards or garden, fire and steel really started to come to the fore when I showed a proclivity for the True Art, cajoling Father into teaching me the way of the blade, and maneuvering to become a student here."

Jess shook her head. "The gaze she gave me when I thought I had just managed to escape her clutches after my last summer visit... blast. I should have known my days would be numbered, even after going out of my way to head back to school weeks early, just so I would be away from any traps waiting to be sprung."

Malek offered a sympathetic smile. “As Eloquin says, if you don't know the terrain and don't have time to scout it, avoid it. Such will spare you from even the deadliest of traps and ambushes, as you are not around to spring them.”

Jess grimaced and nodded. “Yet she has invaded our territory, conspiring with my least favorite professor and no doubt others as well, all to assure that her daughter is put in her place, living the life of a doll and not a boy, as she put it.”

Malek's gaze was solemn. “What will you do?”

Jess closed her eyes, ignoring the hot sting of tears, and shook her head. “Honestly, Malek, I just don't know.”

"I know how you were trembling earlier, Jess." Powerful arms gently enveloped her, despite their armor. "I know the real reason why you've been distracted all day, forgetting to angle your estoc, pounding those helmets so furiously with your war hammer. It's getting to you. Isn't it, Jess? You're having second thoughts, even without Putrice's threats.”

Jess shook in Malek's gentle grip. "I... it was always so exciting, so fulfilling, proving myself...training as a Squire of War, as one of Eloquin's elite... striving to be independent, free, worthy of that proud man's fierce gaze. And I know... I know this is important... but yes, Malek." She forced herself to meet her shieldbrother's gaze, sliding one gauntleted hand through his sweaty curls. "Should we present ourselves before our mentor three nights from now, we do so knowing that there will be blood on our blades and our souls before the night is out."

Grimly, Malek nodded. "They are slavers, Jess. For all that Eloquin hasn't said a word, Neal's made it clear, the game Eloquin hunts. The blight upon Erovering's soil, often sponsored by our enemies in Velheim, are bands of former soldiers, mercenaries, or desperate bitter men who have chosen to plunder our most precious resource, our own people, to line their pockets."

Malek's eyes flashed. "And so long as they consign themselves to serfs or freemen, most nobles refuse even to trouble the king with the shame of their inability to purge their own lands of that blight, save for lords without shame at all, who are happy to use their own failures as pretext to demand rights to yet more men-at-arms, which the king, understandably, is loath to give. And it is rumored that some lords even accept silver for their own people, brought and sold like chattel."

Jess nodded. "I know, Malek. I tell myself that, every night I lay shaking, unable to sleep, knowing what's in store for us."

Malek flashed a bitter smile. "Yet still you shake. And I don't blame you." Gentle fingers free of gauntlets stroked her cheek. "As much as we could use you, were anything to happen to you... I rue that day, Jess, for all that it has yet to come."

Jess squeezed her eyes shut. “Does Neal know... did Neal say what we are up against?”

Solemnly, Malek shook his head.

"So it could be anything. Forty hardened mercenaries sponsored by Velheim, with the most advanced crossbows, windlass affairs shooting bodkin quarrels that could pierce mail, the death of even a knight, for all that Eloquin's priceless breastplates would protect us."

Malek flashed a grim smile. "It is a risk. Or it could be a dozen disorganized former infantrymen with cuir bouilli breastplates, spearheads, and helms of brittle cast iron, and nothing more than that."

Jess gave a wordless nod, in that moment knowing exactly what her decision must be. Had to be.

Even if it got her expelled.

Gauntlets of steel and hardened rawhide caressed his whiskery cheek, receiving a smile. “Promise me one thing. You will tell Eloquin nothing. What will be will be. I will not whine to him like a child.”

Malek chuckled softly. "Of course not. He would expect you to handle your own problems, to not let yourself be intimidated by any professor, even one so resourceful as to organize half the school against you."

Jess took a deep, shuddering breath. “Let's call it a night, my friend. Classes start soon enough, tomorrow.”

Malek shook his head. “You would think we would be given leave to collect ourselves, considering what is to come.”

Jess shrugged. "Neal did mention something about week-long revelry after our duty. Like soldiers on crusade, none will dare question us carrying on like, well..."

“... like a bunch of drunken students?”

Jess chuckled softly. "Perhaps, but you know I am when drunk."

Twinkling eyes told a blushing Jess that Malek remembered certain things quite clearly indeed, for all that so much had changed between them.

“Get some rest, Jess. And remember, you don't have to do this. None of us do. And I sure as blazes wouldn't want to see you expelled.”

Jess nodded. "Let's just see what tomorrow has in store for us."