The Dragon Prince's Consort

Thirty-Five

The training pitch's vaulted, cavernous ceiling echoed with a metallic clangor as Wardens sparred and drilled with their mockup weapons, bouncing blows off of padded armor with heavy thuds and whumps. Fang and Valen found Freya easily, as she was the one responsible for a good deal of those blows. She and another Warden thrashed each other with lances of carbon-fiber wrapped in cloth to blunt their brutal strikes – Freya had never heard of holding back and she wasn't about to go soft in front of her intended. Roban sat on a long bench along the wall, watching from between the thickly-padded shoulders of other Wardens, and he bowed his head as Valen and Fang passed. "Isn't she magnificent?" the Drass stable-hand nodded towards his soon-to-be bride, ears standing up and his long tail swishing. "She's been at it for over an hour!"

"Over an hour?" Valen's ears perked. "So she's tired..." He gave Fang a look. Should I?

Fang gave him a playful push. "Go on, showoff." She grinned as he bounced across the springy floor mats towards the wall of weapons, most of them longer than his body including his tail, then bounded back with a long pole ready to swing. Valen crept up behind Freya and slid the pole through his hands, stalking forward towards the Warden's back. But in the half-second before he could get a strike in Freya spun and whipped the 'blade' of her lance at the pole and smacked it away. Roban gave a whoop, then ducked sheepishly at Fang. "Beg your pardon, My Lady."

Fang waved him off. "She trains him, she probably knows all of his tricks." She watched as Freya blocked both Valen and the other Warden at once, then turned the momentum of her defense into a fluid attack that Fang could only describe as beautiful: the overhead lighting glinted off of Freya's curving black horns, her yellow eyes cool and focused as she rolled her shoulder back to aim. Sweat stuck loose strands of dark hair to her forehead and cheek, yet the young Warden twisted like incense smoke to dodge a vicious swipe while delivering her own savage hit on the other Warden's thigh. Freya kicked out and caught her in the chest, driving a rough oof! from her, then spun and stopped Valen's arcing overhead swing with a two-handed grip. She shoved him off and watched him step back.

"Thought you could sneak up on me, Your Grace?" Freya bared her tusks, barely winded. "Come on then, if you can stay out all night you can handle a couple of rounds!"

Fang watched Valen plant his feet. Here we go! Not that she had any knowledge or understanding of hand-to-hand combat, but she'd lived among the Drass long enough to know that the Federation had every reason to be wary of them. She watched him raise his pole and step into position. "Let's have it, then!"

Freya scraped the 'blade' of her lance in an arc on the mats, the rough fabric growling as the padded end dragged over it; Valen spaced his feet apart, bending his knees and lashing his tail. The Wardens on the bench nudged and whispered among themselves, commenting on his and Freya's form and the handling of their weapons while Roban leaned over to listen, his eyes never leaving his intended. Benna came to Fang's side and began pointing out various features to explain what she was seeing: "Freya's taking the fortress stance, she expects him to come at her first. But she could also launch an attack from that position – see how Valen's heels are off the ground? He has to be prepared for anything."

Fang studied the two, impressed by Freya's poise but quite stunned by the shift in Valen's composure – the Dragon Prince's expression had changed from casual to calculating, though the slight upturn of his lips hinted at confidence. His brows drew together above his nose, shading his orange eyes as they narrowed to focus on his opponent, and his leaf-shaped ears stood up as they turned towards Freya. Though she outsized him, Valen's steady grip on the training-pole and even breaths indicated that he didn't fear her. Of course he's not scared of her, she trained him, but that's not the point – she's bigger, but he knows what he's doing. That same confidence in his own skills had to have started somewhere, and being comfortable with his physical capabilities was as good a foundation as any.