Conor wrapped his hands around Eivaley’s and the diminutive six-millimeter pistol in her dainty grip. He was standing behind her and softly adjusting her hold on the weapon to ensure she would shoot straight this time.
They were at one of the shooting ranges used by the royal guard. It was only a short walk from the palace and was built underneath the training grounds where the soldiers practiced riflery every day; today, however, due to Eivlaey and Conor's training, the steady staccato snaps of rifles did not reverberate through the underground.
Instead, there was little other than each other's heartbeats and breaths and Conor's soft yet firm guidance.
The underground shooting range was nothing special. It had a dozen shooting lanes, benches to rest, tables to stage gear, and viewing screens connected to cameras, allowing those shooting to see their shots.
Conor initially hesitated about using the location because it would prevent the soldiers, a vital piece in Eivaley's protection, from keeping sharp. However, his little ruby reserved the range before his qualms could be judged, so it was a moot point now.
The range stretched out a hundred meters and had targets that could move and pop up as needed for practice.
But they were not using those options today. All Eivlay needed to do was consistently shoot a target at about fifteen meters.
So far, her performance had been lacking, to say the least. Granted, it was her first time holding a weapon, much less shooting it, so Conor would not complain about her abilities. All he could do was encourage her and offer corrections.
That she was willing to do something most of her culture considered brutish, violent, and below a lady of her stature said wonders about how much she was willing to do to ensure that Conor felt comfortable.
“Alright, let’s try again,” Conor calmly said while letting go of Eivaleys hands, having ensured her grip was firm but not squeezing the life from the weapon. “Just remember what I told you.”
The VDK handgun’s light frame trembled in Eivaleys hands. The small red reflex sight bounced erratically on the silhouette target only a few steps away. She remembered all Conor had told her less than an hour ago, but that did not make shooting accurately any easier.
Conor had explained weapon safety and shooting fundamentals to her like gospel. He had taught her the basics of shooting: stance, trigger control, grip, and breathing.
Additionally, before Conor would even allow Eivaley to touch the pistol, she had to be able to recite and explain the five weapon safety rules with no hesitation. That certainly deflated her excitement to shoot for about an hour.
Once she understood the weapon safety rules, her excitement shifted to curiosity and veneration.
No matter what, Eivaley had to treat every weapon like it was loaded, never point her weapon at anything she did not want to destroy, keep her finger straight and off the trigger until she was ready to fire, keep the weapon on safe until she intended to fire, and, of course, know her target, what is between and beyond it.
To call her nervous would be an understatement. She had to consider so many factors when shooting that it felt like an oddly violent dance. But no matter how arduous it would be, she wanted to show Conor she could do this.
He wanted her to be able to work this pistol effectively so, by the Gods, she would.
Another thing that stretched her nerves to the limit was how unreal this entire scenario was. As far as she knew, no royal lady in history had ever taken up arms.
Now, in the course of less than a few hours, there were two. Not only was Eivaley out there learning how to shoot, but her eldest sister was also on the range.
Burlai and Mulaney were a few lanes away from them, having their own class.
Mulaney initially thought Eivaley and Conor were messing with her when they informed her that Conor would teach her baby sister how to shoot a gun.
But once they convinced her they were genuine, she rushed toward her room, eager to get Burlai to do the same for her.
Mulaney genuinely wanted to learn, not for jealousy or an attempt to position herself to kill Eivalys. She had asked Burlai to let her shoot in the past, but he insisted that it was not necessary for her and that it would be dangerous.
Now that Eivaley would learn from Conor, she planned to guilt trip her Champion until he agreed. Which, of course, he eventually did.
The last thing Conor expected was for Burlai and her to arrive at the shooting range an hour after they did and ask to join in on the learning experience.
The Human was against teaching someone who might kill Eivaley, but that did not last long.
Eivaley, his paramour, assured him Mulaney would never do that to her. They were sisters, and Mulaney was the only one who was entirely aware of how Eivaley acted, so she knew Eivaley always did what she thought was right, no matter what.
Mulaney thoroughly knew about Eivaley sneaking out to visit commoners, spending time with the servants, and how her little sister spent hours playing games with the families of the palace attendants.
Not only that but according to Burlai, the sisters were inseparable and constantly assisted one another in their lives. They had already worked together on dozens of projects to improve the Kurlatra empire.
After all three of them assuring him nothing would happen, begging, and slight amounts of bribery, Conor caved and agreed to share the range---and taught threats to Evialey how to fight.
The three soaked up everything Conor taught them about the basics of using a weapon. No matter what he said, they held onto every word, even if they did not understand the terminology he had learned while young.
Mulaney and Eivaley asked more questions than anyone thought possible: Why does the pistol use caseless ammo? Why not use a bladed weapon? Would doing x or y break it?
The barrage of questions became annoying after a while, but Conor answered them all. Thankfully, Burlai was there to help Conor teach them.
Sure, Conor knew how to use weapons, but he had never taught anyone to use one, so he was just miming what Brakul had shown him years ago.
Burlai, on the other hand, was born to instruct.
The spook, to end all spooks, could clearly and concisely explain everything Conor could not. He filled in gaps about weapon operation. The Human had either never learned the nuggets of wisdom formally or knew so well it was second nature, and he had not thought about bringing them up.
Burlai was not even impatient with Conor's attempts to explain how to handle weapons. He understood that Conor learned how to fight in an austere environment, whereas Burlai was more formally trained, so patience was warranted.
After the group class, the two men went to the far side of the range from one another and began practical training, which brought them all to where they were now. Each man behind his woman and showing them the ropes.
“I will not forget,” Eivaley said, taking a drawn-out breath to hopefully steady her aim.
She breathed in and out steadily, waiting for the natural pause before squeezing the trigger. That still meant it was challenging. Sure, after Conor's teachings, it was simple but not easy.
When Eivaley recognized she had a good point of aim, it vanished before she could release the round.
How Conor could shoot as naturally as breathing made no sense to her. How could he piece together all the moving parts and hit the target without fail?
She had watched Conor draw, aim, and hit multiple moving targets within a fraction of a second and three times the range she was learning at. But for her, each bullet released felt like a trial of will.
Snap! Snap! Snap!
The sound of Mulaney firing another round echoed throughout the area. Like always, Mulaney was the better sister, even at something neither had ever done before.
Seeing Mulaney bullets tearing through the center of her target in a tight group made Mulaney's superiority obvious; Eivalys's target looked like someone peppered it with buckshot for the last hour, whereas Mulaney’s had a fist-sized hole in the center.
Why was it always like this? Mulaney could almost preternaturally thrive in whatever environment you tossed her in. In many ways, she was Eivaley's polar opposite.
Eivaley enjoyed spending time with commoners, but Mulaney preferred the nobility. Eivaley would give her time to projects that benefit people, while her sister favored industry.
Even in that stupid race for empress, Mulaney was preferred. Other than the elements of Kurlatra society that had benefited from Eivalys's pet projects, Mulaney was favored to be empress.
No matter what, Eivaley just could not help but feel she was in her sister's shadow. Sure, she loved her deeply, but after hearing the other nobles compare her to Mulaney her whole life, the fifth princess could not help but feel like a lesser being.
“It’s alright; just do your best,” Conor whispered, holding onto her shoulders.
It was not surprising that Conor had seen Eivaley's eyes move from the adjacent target and then back to her own. The Human was anomalously perceptive of Eivalys's state of mind.
He had been far more attentive since they slept together two nights ago. Nothing slipped past him anymore.
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He stood up for her and interjected whenever her regal facade started to slip around other nobles. Without missing a beat, Conor would step to her side, hold her hand, and begin speaking about whatever she and the other nobles were.
He was shockingly eloquent when pretending to enjoy interacting with the nobles whom he would much rather shoot in the face; Conor could discuss the issue in great detail, no matter the topic or position.
He had mastery over everything from the smallest happenings of the local government to the ongoing discussions among the nobles to integrate the GU.
Conor spoke as though he was born and raised in nobility, as if he was destined to be a Champion, leading the Kurlatra into a new age.
While Eivaley certainly appreciated that Conor could do this, she found it oddly repulsive. It was as if, for those few brief moments, Conor was replaced by some horrendous doppelganger puppeteering his skin.
Perhaps her father's lessons to Conor were affecting him a bit too much.
“Ok,” She replied, doing her best to relax and, as Conor put it during their class earlier, ‘stay calm and let it happen’
Eivaley breathed in and out, allowing the chilly air of the shooting range to infect her body and soul. Her muscles felt slack, and her breathing flowed in time with Conors's chest pressed against her back.
The pressure on the trigger increased between heartbeats, and the red dot danced along the silhouette chest.
Bang!
Her round flew through the air and skidded across the duracrete, but not before the small copper slug tore through the center mass of her target.
“Great job,” Conor encouraged, pointing at the small view screen on the table in front of Eivaley. “That's how you do it.”
Eivaley nearly turned around and flagged Conor with the muzzle, so excited that she hit a perfect bull's eye after dozens of magazines. But after all the warning he had given her, she caught herself.
Instead of whipping around without regard, Eivaley cleared the pistol, set it down, and then turned around to hug her man.
“I did it!” She squealed, wrapping her arms around Conor's neck while he pulled her in tight.
Eivaley's tails slapped against both sides of the bulletproof barriers between the weapons lanes, her joy rising to a fever pitch. This was in no way what she pictured in her mind several months ago about what Conor would do with her, but it was bliss.
She had Conor; she knew it. Now, all Eivaley had to do was wait for him to fully accept that he was hers.
“Yeah, you did,” Conor smiled. “You were perfect.”
“Was I?” Eivaley asked nervously, clawing against Conor's back, needing his approval.
Now Conor was dense, blunt, and uncouth—but he was no slouch when it came to her.
He completely ignored the fact that one good shot does not make you a shooter or that if Eivaley wanted to be close to his ability, she would have to recreate that shot trillions of times.
For now, though, one good shot and the enthusiasm to keep shooting were enough. From what Vuraley and the other shooting instructors from the royal guard had told him, he knew her reaction was optimal.
When a shooter was new and does not have to fight for their life. You want them to have a passion to pull the trigger. You had to addict them to the smell of burning powder and heating oil and make their heart beat in time with the bolt's reciprocation.
Conor did not have the privilege when he learned. His first time shooting a gun was violent and unforgettable—something he prayed Eivaley would never know.
The Human was in Voodals fighting pits at the time. He had just beat a Threkal into a near bloody pulp. But just beating the other sapient was not enough. Voodal tossed the young lad, no older than ten, a loaded gun.
“Kill him,” Voodal sniggered, not a single ounce of care on his words. The man truly meant it. He wished to test Conor’s loyalty and resolve. The or else was not said by Voodal, but Conor knew there was no choice.
If Conor did not kill this sapient, he would starve, be beaten, and end up with another prospect's gun to his head the next week if he did not do this.
Conor had to pull the trigger and snuff out a life.
To most sentients, killing another would mean something; it would be an event that defined them. Who would not think of an event like killing someone as defining?
At this point in his life, he had been dragged through charnel pits, clawed through festering bodies, and malignant shit for scraps or bread.
That day was no longer a defining moment.
When Conor gripped that pistol, it was his only chance at freedom. It was his salvation, savior, and god. He shot the man with no hesitation.
Now, after years of warfare and killing, the man he killed was a faceless body in the ocean of kills under his belt.
Conor hoped that fighting would never be her life, reality, and cross to bear.
To her, shooting was a game; by Urla, Conor prayed it would always be that for her. She should never understand the weight on his soul or see the demon clamoring in his mind. Life would always be that way for her if he had any effect on it.
“You did. Now, let’s see you do it again.” Conor smiled, patting her back, then stepping away.
Eivlaley happily picked back up the weapon and repeated everything Conor had instructed her to do to the letter. It was as if his words of encouragement had reinvigorated her willingness to put forth all the effort she could muster.
Each of her shots was tight, hitting vitals with no issue. Besides how slowly she let out follow-up shots, she was shaping up to be a true blue marksman.
She was a natural, even more so than her sister; at least, Conor saw it that way. Sure, Mulaney was shooting well, but every time Burlai offered her some advice or pointed out something that she could improve on, she instantly became defensive.
Each corrective word from Burlai insulted her ability as a woman, leader, and, most importantly, future empress. It was not suitable for her to be talked down to or corrected.
Conor was beyond glad Eivaley was not that stuck up. She listened to him, was attentive, and did not seem more upset than anyone else when a mistake was corrected.
Conor had noted that the royal family seemed insulted when corrected. Mulaney was defensive like most of the princesses, but one stood out in how offended they were—Thuraley.
That little malefic lizard tried to get Conor killed after he told her off. If Vuraley was a less patient man, one of them would have certainly been injured in that brawl.
How in all of Urlas’ universe could someone try that just because the person they tried to manipulate could see through the bullshit?
At least it was looking like that one night was the end of that little whores manipulations; ever since Conor tossed her out, she only appeared in fleeting glimpses, likely too humiliated by Conor's rejection to want to be seen by anyone.
Other than Eivaley, who was still caring for her little sister, no one seemed to mind her absence at family dinners.
When Eivaley attempted to clear the air by going to Thuraleys room, the little bitch would not even hear her out once she knew Conor was with her.
At least Eivaley seemed to drop the subject after Thuraley berated Conor through the door, calling him every swear word under the sun and insulting Eivaley for bringing him to the palace.
Some things were better left dead; their relationship was shaping up to fit into that category perfectly.
Both Eivaley and Mulaney continued to shoot for hours, with their round counts nearing one thousand rounds fired today alone. Neither was an all-star shooter at this point, but they were capable beginners.
After the girls felt they had learned enough for the day, the sisters moved into the same shooting lane and started shooting for fun.
They would giggle and poke fun at one another when the other missed a shot or while the other reloaded magazines.
A series of good-natured jabs about whose man was the better marksman could also be heard between the booming sounds of pistols being mag dumped with little abandon.
Burlai and Conor, for their part, were staying out of that. Neither needed to be that competitive. They both knew that the other would lose. So, instead of stroking their ego, they had settled on a bench near the range and were relaxing with some beers that Burlai had decided to bring in a cooler in his range bag.
Conor had not thought to bring anything to drink or eat; he never worried about this when shooting, but he had to admit that bringing gummies and chewies along was brilliant.
Burlai had a fresh six-pack of Nuyarin brand beer along with some sort of jerky. It was a surprise that the spook had Conor's favorite beer. As far as Conor was aware, the brand was only available in the COS because the GU did not like that it was a product of what was essentially slave labor.
How the man got it was beyond Conor, but he would not complain, especially once Burlai gave the entire pack to Conor.
As they sat nursing the cold ones, watching the girls and making sure no accident happened, Burlai finally decided to approach Conor and let the Human know his opinion of his presence.
“You are alright, Conor,” Burlai said, tapping his claw on the open can, his eyes never leaving Mulaney and Eivaley.
That was all Burlai had to say about it. Months of watching Conor, tracking his every movement, and cataloging everything the Human did led up to that simple stoic comment.
It was not that Conor needed much more of a comment than that. That was about all Conor could say about Burlai in return. The man was a blank slate when it came to his history, so all the Human had to go on was what he witnessed.
Burlai was calm and stoic, dedicated to his mission of protecting Mulaney. Conor only needed to know one more detail about what thoughts were in the man's brain case.
Burlai’s answer about what he would do to Eivaley was all that mattered. If he said, he would willingly harm her so Mulaney could become empress, that was it; the gloves were off, the line was drawn in the sand, and Conor would know Burlai was and always would be an enemy.
“Will you try to hurt Eivaley?” Conor asked, both understanding the role they were meant to play in the political massacre that was Kurlatra royalty.
Burlai looked at Eivlay and Mulaney for a long while, his eyes distant as he pondered what he should say. It was not said out loud, but he completely understood that Conor was saying, "If you will, I will kill you and Mulaney."
Burlai downed the last of his beer and tossed the can into the trash. The foam dripped off his fangs, mixing with venom. This was not an intimidation tactic.
Whenever a Kurlatra male opened his mouth wide enough, his fangs deployed. So Conor did not think about seeing the two envenoming tools. Burlai could do nothing about his nature; that would be like judging Eivaley for wagging her tail.
“I won’t,” Burlai assured before looking at Conor, his stare as serious as a heart attack. “A lot is happening around the world right now; revolutions, insurrection, wars, and unrest. All I care about is her.”
The green-scaled Kurlatra finished his statement with a bit of a hiss and pointed right at Mulaney.
Burlai was right about that. Vuraley certainly assured Conor he knew about the no less than a dozen insurrections and revolutionary movements going on throughout the empire. The Human had even investigated them on his own, having gone around the city to see if there were dangers.
As far as he could tell, no one in the capital was trying to overthrow the current monarchy, but that there were so many threats to his woman put him on edge.
“Will you hurt Mulaney?” Burlai questioned in return, both needing to hear the answer from the other.
Conor pondered it for a moment, sure he had planned dozens if not hundreds of ways to off the first princess. But none of them were needed—yet. So they were just backup ideas he kept in his pocket.
Eivaley would never forgive him if he killed her sister for no reason. That was why he was waiting for one of them to make the first move. If they made an attempt on Eivaleys life, he could justify it to her, even if she would still undoubtedly cry and be depressed for months.
But that was a small price to pay for her safety and another threat being removed.
Now, though, with Burlai assuring he would never harm Eivaley, those plans were out the window. Conor had already spoken to all the other Champions, and they were all for killing Eivaley; all they were waiting on was for their Lady to give the word—but not Burlai.
Burlai could be a potential ally with whom to stack bodies and help keep Eivlaey safe. Burlai just wanted to keep his Lady safe—or die trying.
“No, Eivaley would never forgive me,” Conor replied before slamming back his beer and tossing the can into the trash.
Handing Burlai another beer, Conor skipped the subtly of the conversation altogether, wanting to just get to the point. Burlai was a man of mission and must have a point he wanted to make in this little chat; Conor just hoped it was the same one he had.
“You willing to work together to keep them safe?” Conor questioned.
“Yeah, I am,” Burlai replied, grabbing the beer and cracking it open. "There is just too much to do."
"I hear that," Conor replied.
Conor sensed the weight of those words. Burlai was not absolutely forthright with him. That there was much to do had more meaning.
Burlai had something planned; Conor was just not privy to that plan at this point. But the man's cloak-and-dagger act would be swept away more soon than anyone could imagine.