Val snorted with frustration. “I’m sick of this!” she declared, looking down at Lee’to and Dorius.

  Her study of the Laon hand language was not progressing well. Val struggled with how sentences were formed in a different order, finding it difficult to plan ahead what she wanted to say. She felt childish, and worse still thuggish, like her hands were too fat and large. It was one thing to feel brutish when it was her intention, it was another feeling entirely when she was trying her hardest. The smaller movements felt impossible, her fingers unused to the delicate shapes certain signs demanded of her. Yet she could not blame her large clumsy hands, for Til’wane spoke the language with ease.

  Every chance Lee’to took to tutor her, Dorius was always present, hiding in his room to avoid his cousins as much as was polite the past day, and a constant reminder at how much slower she was to pick up what was apparently her own language. He was learning the hand language with relative ease, he was a natural student. She was forced to dwell on memories of their teen years, as she practiced her skills in the sparring yards, he had been inside with tutors and books. It didn’t matter that he was more adept at this style of learning than her, side by side with him she only felt how lacking she must appear to Lee’to and Til’wane.

  Lee'to had not known the history of their language when Dorius had asked her, explaining only that she knew it came before oral language. Dorius had found history books in the keep’s libraries to share the human understanding of the history of language, a remnant of one of the oldest works of magic apparently. Knowledge of specifics were sparse, it was apparently so ancient it pre-dated even the Monarchy. Regardless of what the great spell had been though, the verbal language it created was universal across all life that it had touched. Written languages were exempt from its working, and multiple methods of transcribing the spoken words to paper, slate and carving existed - most developed after its inception, but a few in existence and adapted to spoken language after - and so it apparently was for the hand language the Laons used.

  At some point in their history the speaking members of their species affected by the spell had adapted their native language to the spoken word where it lacked - most commonly names. Laon names consisted of a pair of signs from a set that were reserved for naming. For creatures that were assigned their role at birth from unknown forces that shaped and balanced the caste system, their name signs lacked semantics and were strangely equalizing to Val when compared to the old blood members of the humans, so clearly marking their bloodlines with their naming preferences.

  Thus Laon names were first sign, then given spoken sound as an afterthought, and translation from sound first back to a signed name was not a task commonly undertaken. Instead another subset of signs had been added to the language by speaking members that phonetically adapted spoken words missing from their native language, just as the written language Val had only passable mastery of did, and could be used to refer to places and people without existing signed names. Lee’to seemed unsettled referring to Val with the singular phonetic sign her short nickname called for in this system, and continuing to call her by her caste also sat oddly with the Laon. So she had suggested through Til’wane to attempt to give her a name with the proper name signs. Once Dorius had heard, he had been curious to have the same done with his name and Val had felt too tired to push back on the idea much.

  Val and Dorius were practicing their new names. Valina became a touch to the throat with a slightly cupped, relaxed hand then a second shape made with the fingers posed over her heart. Til’wane had translated it back as Val’nah. It was the second sign that Val struggled with, she didn’t have the effortless precision in striking her fingers to the correct pose, and Lee’to had been trying to correct her gently when Dorius had interrupted to try his own interpretation of it. Watching him make the sign with his own hand so quickly, and it looking so perfect to Val’s eye, caused her stomach to roll with a black frustration that left her wanting to go hit things with her axe very hard.

  “It is not that hard,” said Dorius, and he moved his hand as if to touch her and try like Lee’to did to adjust her fingers. Val flinched from him, then masked the movement by shaking her hand out.

  “Just use the first, as we do with my name already,” she suggested, “I will not get this one.” Lee’to let her disappointment show, and Val felt sick with shame. Growling she rose, and tossed her horns.

  The close stone walls felt tight around her. It had not helped that the rooms assigned to her and Til’wane had been barely wide enough for a bed, all other amenities provided in shared spaces. A human bed was not long enough for either Laon to sleep, and a room so small did not leave enough space to fully stretch on the ground even. They had been forced to both sleep on the floor of Dorius’ quarters the night before, and so Val had no break from him even in her rest hours. Val had silently wondered if the choice of their quarters had been a silent war on her by the Viridians. Sylus was petty enough, and likely to find the idea of her curled up in a cage-like room greatly amusing.

  Even looking out the window provided her no comfort, the room they had been given only had grey views of the cliff the keep was built against, the window little more than a portal for light to enter the room in daylight hours.

  Dorius dropped his hands, and gently placed them in his lap looking up at her from the floor.

  “I could use with some air?” he offered gently. Val nodded meekly.

  And so Anette was called, and a party arranged to take lunch at the sides of the sparring yards. For the sake of formality, invite letters were sent to each of his cousins and the General overseeing the Ivory. Val dressed gladly in her Company leathers leaving Til’wane in his formal dress to stay at Dorius side with only the slightest hint of pity.

  As they emerged from the keep there was already a variety of men and women in the yards practising, dressed in a mix of Phoenix leathers, Ivory white, Viridian green and a small cohort in seafoam that mingled with the Viridians. Arranged to one side, on a platform constructed out of boxes was a table and chairs set for a small gathering, the General of the Ivory already sitting and chatting with the servants who were bringing an array of imported foods from the kitchen elsewhere within the inner bailey.

  “My Prince,” announced the General, sweeping his white feathered cap off as he rose when Dorius came to join.

  “General,” Dorius chose a chair with a good view of the sparring yards and joined the man, gesturing for him to sit again.

  “An excellent idea for a lunch,” responded the General, sitting slowly and refraining from taking any food, “May I ask why it struck your fancy?”

  Dorius shrugged, leaning over the table to grab a few of the dates that had come north with the Company, “My Fae needs some exercise, I thought it might be diverting to watch.”

  “Indeed,” responded the General, leaning in his chair to give Val and Til’wane a knowing appraisal. The General was himself in his middle years, but he had the hard frame of a man who was not unfamiliar with combat. It was unusual for the colored guard to see much real combat, they were more regularly law enforcement for the peace of the Pentarchy, and only mercenary crews regularly engaged in any skirmishes with bandits, wild Fae, or barbarian tribes. “I would be curious to see how my own men fair against your retinue, and your Fae, if you would allow it?”

  “The Company is independent, I maintain no official retinue,” corrected Dorius as he picked the seed from one of the dates, “but I’ll allow it. We can have a little tournament, let the men enjoy some bets and sport.” He leaned in his chair to spy a servant in his own blues and waved them over, “Are Bastian or Hart about? Go find one and see if they can gather some men and get a little tourney going for some exercise.”

  The General kept his eyes on Val, studying her size with academic interest, “I had never seen your fabled bodyguard, only heard the occasional gossip about it from transfers west. Are they intelligent?”

  “They are not wild Fae, if that is what you are asking,” responded Dorius somewhat cautiously.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  “Clearly. I ask more from interest in how they compare to the species in High Haven. Were you aware the Vigilants have a few that guard the Chapel there?"

  Dorius relaxed, “Ah, you were the contact before the gate shut. I’d be eager to hear your assessment of things.”

  Val idly watched the soldiers spar as Dorius and the General discussed, her hands tucked behind the small of her back. Before long, Hart and Bastian had both been found in the barracks of the outer bailey and arrived to begin organizing a crew of eager Phoenix Company and a growing crowd of Viridian and Ivory alike. A spare table was found, and wooden boards and chalk distributed to write names and arrange brackets, while Bastian and one of the company men good with numbers got a betting ring organized to one side.

  Bastian approached the table in the later stages of organization. His bandages were mostly removed, his now peeling neck burns just visible beneath his bright red shirt and Company vest. His nose was the only bandage remaining, holding the splint to keep its shape.

  “My Prince,” he gave a sweeping bow leading with a flourished hand, his fingers so low they almost brushed the ground, “The men would like to know if your bodyguard will participate. We’ll seed her towards the final rounds to make things fair?”

  Dorius grinned slyly, and put a hand within his robes to draw out a small purse. “Let us have them both added as the final of each bracket. I’ll pay a prize to the finalists on each side and we can have an exhibition match at the end!” he suggested.

  “You assume they will win?” asked the General, eyebrows raised in curiosity.

  Dorius counted his coin out with a smug grin, “I am less sure about the male, but the female is undefeatable by a human one on one.”

  Til’wane impassively stared into the crowd, but the change of his grip on his halberd caught Val’s eye and she wondered if he too had been waiting for an opportunity to test her.

  Bastian remained to chat with them about the contestants, providing a lively commentary, and as they spoke Virconas, her husband and Alanis all arrived from the keep, dressed elegantly and attended by servants in verdant green and gold. Chairs were arranged, and more drinks and plates of food brought forth and the little party was soon discussing the upcoming fights with Dorius, Virconas and the General passing the majority of the conversation between them and Bastian offering compliments to the women and helpful suggestions as they speculated on their favorites among the fighters. Val watched the conversation from the side, her attention most often on Gustave when he offered only a sparing remark in a low, husky voice. The man had the build of a squat fighter, the type that moved with a speed you did not expect, and she wondered if his role within the assassins guild was management or if the man himself had a past.

  Soon the first rounds were underway, there had been so much interest from the soldiers at the prospect of testing themselves against Val and Til’wane, the early competitors were forced to spar simultaneously in the court using wooden practice weapons and padded protection. Apprentices sat on the sidelines wiping down armor between fighters with water and cleaning alcohol, and excitedly watching the fights dreaming of the day they too might be participating. Any servant that could be spared of their duties joined a growing crowd standing in the shade of the keep, and soon merchants from the town had even found their way into the bailey carrying bags of toasted nuts and popped grains dusted with salt to vend as snacks for the crowd.

  Sylus’ seneschal arrived late into the first rounds, and announced his intention to join them with his garden of companions in tow. This required an expansion of the informal sitting area Anette had arranged, so Virconas suggested with a stiff clap they should visit the stables and see the horses she had brought from their holdings to keep themselves occupied while the fighting paused. Dorius expressed an appropriate amount of interest, and the party rose with Bastian continuing to facilitate the conversation and Val and Til’wane behind them.

  On the sight of the stable master in green leading out a pale grey mare, Virconas’ stiffness disappeared, and she rushed forward to pat the beast on its velvet nose while her stable master kept a close eye on them. It was long legged and had a graceful swoop along its back from withers to croup. Unlike the Snake Prince’s black stallion, this one had downy grey feathers growing from its fetlocks, intermixed with hair. Virconas spoke at length of their breeding program, her excitement melting away any formality she had been showing previously. It seemed she had a great interest in animals, and was even speculating about adding hounds and hawks to her efforts.

  Dorius nodded along politely, letting Bastian ask the majority of the questions now he had blended himself with their company.

  “The trick,” announced Virconas, her eyes bright, “Is finding good stock to start. There are many traits to consider, but I should also like them to be tractable and pleasing to the eye. It would be quite exciting to have a hound one could pet and pamper by your chair or at your feet.”

  Dorius scratched his chin at the thought, “If you think it is possible and not unhygienic. I have no experience myself with hounds, it was not a habit of my parents.”

  “The late Azure Princess introduced beekeeping to Southold,” added Bastian amicably, hoping the topic might be of interest to the Viridian Princess, “She sought an expert out to help her start the trade, and paid for them to attract the original population.”

  Virconas covered her mouth with her sleeve, “It is not quite the same. Bees can be found anywhere, a good dog not so. Is that what you intend to do with your Fae now you have sourced a male? It might make an interesting hobby and there are others who would have interest in having one in their service?”

  Val would have buried her head in her hands if she could, through sheer force of will she kept her gaze forward and her hands clasped behind her back. She trusted Til’wane to have kept an equally bland reaction, but could not help herself a glance at Bastian who had a twitch to the edge of his smile and a dark glint to his eye that had not been there before.

  Dorius started at the question, and stammered an initial response, “I, uh.. had not much thought of it…”

  “I imagine the female would be not much use while brooding, and the whelping process would be an unknown,” considered Virconas, “I shall make an introduction to that academic for you, he may be able to identify their exact species and provide some information to you.”

  Dorius seemed a little overwhelmed, “I’m not sure that…”

  “I do not think it would be quite the same as a bull or hound,” interrupted Bastian, “We do not treat Fae-touched like animals as you suggest, why Fae?”

  “But the Fae-touched speak and think and act as us, and are born from our blood - they are obviously a common species. The difference is quite pronounced. I have never seen your beast act as such, although you would know her best. They seem to need no handler so must have some intelligence,” replied Virconas mildly. “Although, if she is a half-breed that might be a little more distasteful.”

  “Distasteful?” scoffed Bastian, his veneer slipping.

  “They…” started Dorius, speaking over Bastian before he could do harm, “She… is intelligent enough. The species has many mute members, do not ask me to share more cousin on how I know. My influence is fleeting enough, don’t take from me one of my few mysteries?” His tone evened from his initial shock at the conversation topic as he spoke, ending in a slight plea to her better nature.

  Virconas seemed unphased, returning her gaze to the mare’s face as she gently patted the beast between her eyes, “Hmm, very well? I guess it is true they seem to understand more complex orders than a hunting hound. I sometimes think my horses are smarter than they let on too. It was not so long ago we bred our own family line to try and maintain the old magics, it is not so different really.”

  “Shall we return?” suggested Dorius, his hands in his robes, “I am sure the wait for Sylus will not be much longer.”

  Virconas let go of the horse with a longing look in her eyes, then turned to them again and covered her mouth with her sleeve, “You know, maybe the Fae-touched should consider it as the old blood did. It is surprising what changes good breeding can bring about in only a few generations.”

  Bastian forced an obliging tone and wry smile, “Old blood is not a privilege of the common. I would offer not to encourage them to adopt the habits of nobles, they may get ideas above their station.”

  “Indeed!” replied Virconas thoughtfully, “Let us return then. Although I am not eager for my brother’s company…” she seemed to draw protectively a little closer to Alanis, and urged her forward with a gentle hand on her back.

  “Nor I,” admitted Dorius, and the group began the short walk back to the inner bailey.