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Inherit the Wind	By : Ash_Gray_Kitsune Category: S through Z > Valdemar Series Views: 1128 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Valdemar Series. It's rather obvious that I make no money.

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:He's picking up on the language well.: Genn glanced over at where Stormyr was sounding out Valdemaren, clearly being coached by his Companion. The young man sat easily in the saddle, his brow furrowed over dark green eyes, long black hair even longer now. It had been two months since they'd set out from the Anduras Faire; they had stayed a full month in order for Stormyr to fully heal and win over the Healer's approval, and for him to get his men safely to another caravan, under a friendly fellow that Genn knew quite well from the man's brief excursions into his family lands when he'd operated up in Rethwellen. They were making good time, though; the Throne City had passed in a flurry of silver hooves a week ago, and they were due in to Mournedealth before the end of the next two days. The local lands were well what looked like a decent harvest, and there was a bite in the air that warned of winter coming much sooner now that they were truly heading north.

:That's the Catling's doing, I believe. She spent the last week working on adverbs alone.: He started in surprise.

:Good god, she's got more dedication than I've ever possessed.:

:Well, she has waited a very long time for her Chosen. Speaking of which, stop worrying about him stealing away the girls; he's shaych.:Genn grimaced and scratched the nape of his neck. Trust his Companion to go straight to the source of his vanity.

:Well, with those looks, I couldn't tell which way the pendulum swung.:

:Haha, very funny. Better watch yourself; I won't protect you if Catrea comes after you.: Olli Sent an image of an enraged mare trampling his Herald, though the effect was rather ruined by the comical screams and the way it looked like it was drawn by a certain Bard who would remain nameless for the time being.

:I'm stung! Still, I do wonder what use I am. I'm hardly a teacher these days.:

:Perhaps not, but Catrea says that you'll be breaking him into the duties anytime now; she wants to get him over the language humps, then he's all yours.:

:I'm almost frightened, now.:

:Because the lad's into the same sex?:

:Haha, no. I've never had a problem with the shay'a'chern, and you know that perfectly well. I'm afraid because I've never done an Internship as the head Herald.:

:You'll be alright, Genn. Stormyr's incredibly quick, according to the Catling, and he's already got a very well-rounded ability to make judgements. And for weaponswork, you two are nearly matched; he's a hair better than you, and I suspect that's due to having come straight off a caravan, even if he was injured.:

:Not that you can tell. That Healer did an excellant job.:

:That she did. Now, let's review the basics of situation assessment and making judgements.:

:Must we?: He Sent an image back of being buried under all the legalese.

:Yes, we must. Then it's on to Waystations, Guard Bases, and the proper way to address all the various nobles.:

:You hate me, don't you?.:

:Not at all, Chosen. Not at all.:

Stormyr felt the sweat rolling down his back, soaking the dark shirt and breeches he wore under his steel brigantine, despite the chilly morning air, but ignored it, devoting his attentions to the motions at hand. He had offered a few lessons in return for information on the trade routes to a group of mercenaries wintering over at the inn in Mournedealth. They themselves were having to stay a good deal longer than expected due to some problem up in Rethwellen with some sort of trade embargo, and as a way to make a little extra coin, both Herald and Trainee started looking for jobs that suited their talents. '

Genn was at the moment acting as a personal groom to one of the Fifty Houses, his Companion and Catrea both sitting pretty in the inn's stable, and he was acting teacher to two mercenaries old enough to be his father. They came at him together, rather than singly; that was the goal of this particular exercise, so he could show them a particularly brutal disarm that changed the odds on a single fighter from impossible to possible. It could only be used once, though, because afterwards, your arms hurt so much that you could barely lift your sword, let alone repeat it. With a shout, he locked one blade with his shield, the other with his own sword, and pushed off of the fence post that was pressing into his back. His momentum offset his opponents, and with a roar of triumph, he forcibly shoved both of them, lashing out with the flat of his blade to lay a harsh tap on both helms, his feet carrying him to the other side of the empty paddock.

"And that, friends, is something that you must only do when you have no other method to protect yourself." His accent was crisp but professional as he watched both men came up staggering, but bearing bright grins under their shaggy beards and mustaches as he tore off his own helm, shaking the long braids down out of their top knot. He'd redone his hair up Shin'a'in style when they'd first come here, and to his surprise, it was immensely more comfortable, and he resolved to keep the braids in as long as he could; no reason to give up such good padding before he had to.

"Aye, lad, we be figgerin' that. Yer a good 'un, boyo; fancy takin' a turn as student?" He chuckled, and hanging his helm off his belt, set about to redoing the knot.

"I would take your offer, but I'm afraid it's nearing noon, and my partner will be back; I must take my leave of you gentlemen." That earned him a gruff sigh from one and a kind laugh from the other, and he followed them out of the paddock, turning towards the stables as he hailed both his Companion and the senior Herald, the latter stepping off of a riding coach while the former tossed her head and whinnied a welcome.

"Heyla, Herald!"

:Ready for lunch, Catling?:

"Stor! What's for grub, I'm starving!" Stormyr laughed and made his way into the warmth of the inn's stable, welcoming his lady with a soft kiss on her nose and a purloined apple, a little wrinkly, but seasoned liberally with sugar from the cook that he'd kept safe in the belt pouch at his hips. As she purred in his mind, slurping happily, he tossed the second to Genn to give to Olli, who immediately made off with it and pressed his forehead into the Herald's chest for scratches as he munched.

"I haven't the faintest idea, but it smells heavenly." He replied, closing his eyes in appreciation for their cook's impressive skill, and he caught a smirk in his direction as he did so.

"Unlike you, I see."

"As if you smell any better. Who was the pampered pet this time? A lord or a lady?" They spoke Valdemaren out here, where it was relatively safe, and Stormyr marveled faintly at his mastery. Not three moons ago, he was struggling and sounding out every single syllable; now, he spoke it well, with only the occasional odd turn of phrase. He felted Catrea's warm chuckle sound in the back of his mind.

:I'm partly to blame for that, I'm afraid. Remember all those dreams you had?: As he thought back to them, he threw her a sigh.

:Tiring wench.:

:Yet you love me so.:

:Aye, that I do, that I do...Well, I'm off to a bath.:

:No amorous company tonight?: His eyes darkened, just a little, and she hastened to apologize, but he shook it away.

:It wouldn't help, even if there was any. I'd rather trouble a few nights alone than a night of mistakes. Again.: She winced away from that, and so did he; neither of them cared to remember the minstrel who'd lured Stor to his bed, then left him drugged and stripped of everything he owned. Genn had caught the little rat, and he was resting his heels in gaol, but it didn't much help the blow to his pride and reputation, tiny as it was. That's why he'd taken up training the mercenaries; no few of them despised minstrels, tolerating Bards due to their status and skill. At least there, they didn't blame him for a pair of beguiling brown eyes...

"Stormyr?" A long hand came to rest on his shoulder, and he hastened to grin down at the blonde, who looked a little confused, though obviously understanding that he'd drifted off in conversation with his Companion. "Cook's got our meal done; feel up to eating, then a long stint in the baths?" He sighed and gave Cat a final scratch, then chuckled and nodded.

"I'm sorry, I was meandering. Yes, that would be wonderful." With that, they sidled into the common room, Genn waving for one of the servers, a young man with sandy blond hair and a welcoming smile under a spattering of freckles who matched the innkeeper to a T. Stormyr smiled as he sidled off with their order and began popping off his armor, loosening the straps enough to yank it over his head, taking most of his shirt with it. Were he in a normal inn, he would have suffered the stifling heat; a merc place, however, didn't mind nearly so much, and as he pulled his shirt back down, hiding his scarred, wiry body from the public eye, he laughed at the catcalls and whistles.

"I'm not givin' ya a show, gents, I'm jus' easin' th' heat!" He hollered back in trade tongue. As the calls died down to a decent murmur of conversation, he turned back to his senior and grinned, knowing how askew and roughed up he looked. There was a scrape or two on his face; one from a sword's pommel, the other from his helm digging in, and bruises all over. Genn just shook his head, though he didn't deny that he probably smelled worse. He'd spent all day in a lord's gambling den, wreathed in cigar smoke and the occasional underworld drug or two, and by the end of the morning, he'd been ready to call it quits.

Their food came as his thoughts ground to a halt, lured by the promised bath, and with equal fervor, both men demolished the meals, drinking a great deal of the bitter, tasty ale that the brewer down the street sold through this inn and a few others. It was utterly delicious, and by the time they both sat back, the sad remains could barely be scraped off, and both waistlines were immensely tighter than they had been. Almost as twins, they rose from the bench, Genn with his cloak and Stor with his armor, and made their way to their rooms, taking a moment to toss a few coppers at the bathhouse boy and buy a bar of soap apiece. Making short work of their clothing, they slid into the tubs, content to soak. They had two candlemarks free; it would be a cold rinse, but it was worth it, because it left both Heralds alone and allowed for a conversation of a different sort to be focused on. Genn glanced over at his Trainee, and dropped a shield to reach for him via Mindspeech, poor as his with humans was.

:Stormyr?: A start, and the other man stared over at him, then answered in kind.

:Aye, Genn?:

:I need to speak to you about the incident with the minstrel.: He winced, but Genn stopped him with a hand, eyes still focused on him. :It's not about your involvement, or rather, it's not about what you did that night; the little rat-faced bastard apparently was sent by one of the Houses to try and seduce both of us. Obviously, I was a little too charmed with the wenches, but when he caught your eye, he was sure to get into your head enough to leave you feeling guilt-ridden and responsible. Neither of which you deserved to be. My employer is a good man, but the men he spends his leisure hours with are not; they are convinced we're here to deal with some family feud that flared up. We need to leave with the night; there's a Guard who will let us out, since we are Heralds, but not after midnight. After that, it'll be cold camps until we get to Petras.:

:By then, the snows will have passed, right? And what about the embargo?:

:Yes, but for a while, we'll be camping in them. We don't dare the inns again; there's already talk of rounding us both up, you for being shaych, me for being a panderer. I'd suggest that you let your men know that we've had an emergency call up north; the embargo will have to accept that, since Rethwellen's been an ally of Valdemar's for years now, albeit in trade only. And if all else fails, then straight up through the Pelagirs, and with any luck, the Hawkbrothers won't take it out of our hides.:

He hated to bother the young man with all this, but after this morning...no. He would not allow his Trainee to be hurt again like that. Not when Stormyr was the kindest person he'd ever met, including all the Heralds, and every Healer. He resolved to protect the youngster, and with a sigh, he unbound his hair. :Now, let's get clean; I'm going to take as long as I can with this bath before we have to deal with the road again.: Stormyr nodded, his gaze inward, and Genn sighed, then ducked his head beneath the water, intent on getting every mote of smoke out of it before he left.
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Inherit the Wind