Stolen Path

2|| Friends In High Places

Zauriel ||

"But what if I lose?" For the last ten minutes, Loti of Avonton had been pacing about the tent in their gambeson. Every so often, they would stop and pinch their brow or inhale deeply, but these were rare moments in a dull sea of repetitive anxiety.

"I'd be more worried about winning." Zauriel muttered. She loved her friend dearly but couldn't help but question whether the semi-finale of a junior tournament was the right time for self-doubt.

Geldric, the Lord of Avonton and Loti's adoptive father, scoffed nervously, "Not helping, Rells."

"I was just playing demon's advocate." She threw up her hands in mock offense, "Maybe we should look at this situation from another angle."

"So, you're saying I should throw the fight?" Their big, brown eyes widened in surprise at the idea.

"No!" Zauriel and Geldric yelled in unison.

"Throw the fight? What's gotten into you, child?" Zauriel could tell that the man was trying his best not to snap, "Don't even think about it!"

Before Zauriel could launch herself into a long rant about why her friend simply must beat the ever-loving shit out of Falric the younger, a footservant pulled back the canvas flap to the tent, "Ready?"

"Almost." The bairn replied meekly.

Loti ||

A wave of sound shook the bairn as soon as they stepped out from the tent. It was dizzying.

They bit their lip and pulled down their visor. Back straight, chin up, kick his arse. Zauriel's crude words were somehow calming as a crier heralded the entrance of Loti's opponent.

The bairn knew very little about Falric personally but had heard some nasty second-hand rumours about his father: adultery, gambling, recklessness. All the little sins that can be shoved under a carpet for the right price.

"On the eastern side we have..." The announcer paused for dramatic effect and the crowd indulged her with a hungry silence, "Loti of Avonton!" The crowd played along with a hearty cheer, "And in the far west, Falric the younger of Donholt!"

Loti smirked quietly: there was still a cheer, but it was noticeably quieter.

"Will the opponents please bow to each other and her Royal Majesty, the Grey Mare of Ferrotia, High Queen Kerrigan!" It was hard for the bairn to not smile; the announcer was having far too much fun rolling her r's.

As Loti bowed to their opponent, they accidentally caught his eyes through the helmet visors. Perhaps they were imagining it, but it was hard to ignore the burning hatred – no that was too mild, this was loathing – that the young noble had looked at Loti with. They chose to ignore it. Probably just a pent-up craving for violence. Nothing to worry about.

The two teenagers bowed to her Majesty as she explained the rules of combat.

"Maybe Efa protect you and Donn's light guide you. Ready your weapons." The audience held their breath eagerly as the queen spoke.

From where they stood, Loti saw their father grinning reassuringly in the stands. Beside him, Zauriel's hazel eyes were flashing with (what the bairn hoped was) a caricature of malice. She made an elaborate display of cracking her knuckles and pointing towards Falric before Loti's father noticed and cuffed her over the head affectionately.

"Begin!" The queen cried.

The crowd erupted into whoops and cheers as Falric lunged towards Loti. The bairn side stepped to dodge the attack and bashed the noble with their shield.