Vermilion ~ Seventeen: Guard

[annarti.livejournal.com]

‘Has Master Vermilion been back yet?’ The guard jogged back to her post after having retrieved purses and delivered summons all around town.

Her fellow nodded. ‘Along with all his guests, so I couldn’t get anything out of him. Did you catch the kid?’

She nodded and took a heavy breath. ‘Easily. She gave up all her supposed friends’ names, too. They all swear they were going to return the money, of course.’ She sighed and shook her head. ‘It’s more those ones I’m worried about. The one I caught just seemed like she was trying to show off to these, well, bullies is what they are.’

‘Keep them under guard at the castle, I say,’ her fellow decided, straightening his shoulders.

‘Under whose guard?’ the guard said with a roll of her eyes. ‘Still, might be more of a challenge than standing here all day.’

‘Oh, we get a little bit, now and then.’

She gave a slight snort and a laugh. ‘Mmm, it’s not every day you get to chase down nine-year-old criminals.’ She sighed wistfully. ‘Just one year, I’d like to attend the Amberley Tournament.’

Her fellow looked over to her, eyebrows raised. ‘What, to compete?’

She shrugged. ‘Maybe. I’d like to at least be a spectator, though. Think of it! All those exotic swordsmen and archers, more nobles than we’ve even got in town this week, all the best Kazinian horses jousting, everything. It would be thrilling!’

Her fellow laughed. ‘It would be,’ he agreed. ‘When’s the next one?’

The guard’s shoulders slumped. ‘Two years away. The last one was only back last spring.’

‘Why didn’t you go?’

She shrugged. ‘I hadn’t the courage to ask.’

‘Well, maybe I could take you to the next one.’

She turned to him in surprise, but he returned her look with a devious grin. ‘You have two years to train, now. You’d best not be going merely as a spectator.’

The guard grinned back and rolled her eyes again. ‘And who am I to train with?’ she asked. ‘We already know who’s the best swordsman between us.’

‘Why not Master Vermilion?’

She laughed aloud this time. ‘For all his prostrating, Master Vermilion is no swordsman. No, my friend, the days when a lord was expected to defend his castle with his own blade are long behind us and, I suspect, our young master is only too glad to see them gone.’

‘My ears are burning.’

The guard stiffened to attention, blushing as bright as the master’s coat as the topic of conversation arrived at the gate. She turned rigidly and saluted him. From the corner of her eye, she could see her fellow trying desperately to hold back his giggles. ‘I apologise, Master Candlewood, I didn’t… erm. Sorry, Sir.’

Vermilion laughed and folded his arms. ‘I had come only to collect your winnings, but it seems I must defend my honour, as well.’

Her fellow laughed aloud at that, and the guard abandoned all pretence of professionalism and hid her blushing face behind one hand.

The gate creaked as Vermilion pulled it open, and the guard peered through her fingers to see the young master had pulled off his gloves and was now removing his coat.

‘Master Candlewood!’ she began in protest. ‘I never—’

‘Tch tch tch,’ the young heir cut her off, holding up one finger and wagging it side to side. He held out his other hand to her fellow, who drew his sword and placed the hilt in Vermilion’s hand. Vermilion was grinning all the while. ‘Now, now. A professional swordsman should accept a challenge that has been made her, should she not?’

The guard spread her hands in a shrug, then laughed and shook her head, resigning herself to the fact she was to spar with her boss. ‘If you say so, Master.’ She drew her own sword and rested its tip on the cobblestones before her. Master Vermilion imitated her as she folded her hands over the pommel and gave a bow.

‘Don’t hold back on my account,’ Vermilion told her, flicking the blade with a little more expertise than she had expected. With no warm up or circling, he darted forward, though whether to keep the guard from getting a look at his style or whether simply through lack of technique, she couldn’t be sure.

She defended the advance easily, sweeping his blade aside as she twisted around and let his momentum carry him past her. He recovered quickly, watching her eyes with a manic grin while she kept hers focused on his blade.

Again he lunged, but with less momentum this time for her to turn aside. She dashed his sword aside and almost cut with her own, but held back and bit her lip.

Vermilion danced back from the blow that didn’t come and spread his hands in confusion. ‘You held back,’ he accused.

‘Sir,’ she said with an apologetic nod, then she gestured with one hand at his attire. ‘How am I to win if I can’t lay a touch on you?’

Vermilion looked down at his ruffled shirt of black silk, elaborately embroidered in shimmering red and gold thread. ‘Ah,’ he said eloquently, then shrugged. ‘It’s nothing that can’t be mended, and I have a dozen of its like, besides.’

Before the guard had the chance to argue, he grinned and flew at her again. She caught his blade and spun it around, slashing back in the same movement in a move designed to push him further back towards the marble pillar beside the gate.

Vermilion obligingly danced back once more, waving one arm wide to balance himself as he swung the blade out to defend himself. It seemed he was more conscious of damaging his shirt than he made out to be.

The guard grinned as she backed him against the wall. He thudded into it with a satisfying ‘oof!’ and the guard jumped at her opening. She twisted her blade around his like a snake, flung it from his grip, and levelled the tip of her sword at his heart.

The young master laughed and shook his head, then placed his hand over his heart and offered it, palm up, to the victor. ‘It seems you answered your own question,’ he panted.

The guard bowed as she sheathed her sword. ‘Forgive me for doubting you, Master Candlewood,’ she said honestly. ‘You were a more agile opponent than I had anticipated.’

‘But nothing like the lords of old,’ he replied, still panting as he accepted his coat from her fellow. ‘You’re quite right, my dear, I’m glad I wasn’t born in those times. Hoo, that gets the blood running!’ He shrugged his coat on and cocked his head to one side as he did up the buttons. ‘What brought the conversation on, if I might ask?’

‘The Amberley Tournament, Master,’ her fellow answered before she could brush him aside. ‘She wishes to participate in the sword contest.’

‘Not to participate,’ she amended hastily, but she did see this as her chance. ‘Not yet, at any rate. But to watch the Tournament for my first time would be thrilling.’

‘Would it, just?’ Vermilion said with a crooked smile. Coat buttoned, he made her a flamboyant bow. ‘Well, to the victor go the spoils. In two years I’m certain I can convince Father I have a newfound love of observing physical combat, and doubtless I would need a guard were I to attend such an event, what with all that naked weaponry flying about.’

The guard owed again, as much to hide her blush and her grin as to offer him deference. ‘Thank you, Master, I can’t begin to say what this means. You’d really do this for my humble sake?’

‘And for mine,’ the master added as he flexed his fingers back into his gloves. ‘I’ve been curious about the Tournament myself. Perhaps not so much for the fighting but for those who attend.’

‘Sir?’ the guard interrupted, glancing at her fellow for confirmation. It seemed that he, too, had picked up on this curious note. ‘We were under the impression you had found someone.’

He smiled ruefully. ‘Well, yes, I have, assuming I win the affirmative. But there are other sorts of people in this world, my dear, and most all of them congregate at the Amberley Tournament. It seems to me like travelling to a foreign land without leaving the comforts of home.’

His smile softened as he looked out over his town. ‘It seems silly, gazing at a view like this, but I should like to travel some day. The Amberley Tournament seems, to me, the next best thing. A taste of the exotic before throwing myself headlong into it.’

The guard followed his gaze, looking out over the rolling hills with their pockets of autumn forest, turning pale gold in the afternoon sunlight. ‘Were you to do so, Master, I should be honoured to guard at your side.’

‘I would be as equally honoured to have you,’ he agreed. He turned his smile on her and, for just that brief moment and against all reason, her heart skipped a beat, though she would deny that later.

‘Thank you for the match,’ Vermilion said, his habitual languid smile covering over the moment, if indeed a moment it had been. He turned back to the gate, coat flung back to fold his hands back into his pockets.

‘Oh, Master,’ she called after him and dove into her own pockets. ‘The reason you came down in the first place.’ She fished out the four purses of the unfortunate nobles who had attended the play that afternoon.

‘Yes, quite,’ he said with a latent shake of his head. He collected the four purses and stuffed them into his coat pockets. ‘I’ll return them straight away. Thank you again for your services, my dear.’

‘And you, for your kindness,’ she said with another bow.

The two guards resumed their positions until the master’s footsteps could no longer be heard. ‘Not a word,’ the guard warned her fellow.

An evil grin was plastered over his face, though he kept his attention forward. ‘None need be said,’ he agreed.

~ ~ ~

A fight with your frigging MASTER and you don't place any bets? Fail, Llayad, fail.

Comments

[ladylight.livejournal.com]

Not a single coin has changed hands! What the hell??

I like how Vermillion was acting all laissez-faire and then actually trying to protect his clothes. Nice characterising touch XD

(I'm confused by the lack of paperwork involved in catching those kids ... this is indeed a fantasy story)

[annarti.livejournal.com]

Llayad needs to get with the times, srsly. I don't care how honourable you think you are, start betting already!