Stoatorian Guard Open The Trenches The Prodigal Son Returns

[Alwyn Ryalor]

Gods damn you, Camilla, why could you just not stay and help Daniil fill out the ******* paperwork?

Releasing his grip on Eirene, but still keeping one paw on Caden’s shoulder in a “friendly” manner and hardening it even more as the marten tried to break away, he walked around to get a look at his face. Okay, he fit the general age, and description, but maybe the eye color was off, and-oh, no, there it was. He was exactly what would one have expected the son of Nuori Sken and Gordon Freemont to look like, all grown up, if perhaps in different attire than they might have hoped, according to his grandfather. There was only one way to be sure, of course, but he needed Daniil to leave, as he understood Northern Fyadoran, which Alexei had used to calm the young Freemont down after his father’s death, and a particular phrase which he had been told that kit would never forget and would be able to weed out impostors.

“I think that would be an excellent idea, it is always good to wash before training. I will take you to the one on the way there personally, ‘Caden’, was it? Very good.”

He paused, wondering what to do with Daniil and the black-furred ferret. They needed to be distracted too, kept away from the conversation he and Caden needed to have, completely.

“You know what, I just had another great idea. Since all three of you are here, how about you just follow me to the training area? I can then direct Miss Liu and my cousin Daniil to start picking out their preferred practice weapons and finishing up their paperwork. I will then guide Caden here to nearest washroom, and then return to see what you have all picked out.”

He gave a perfunctory look at both Liu and his cousin, but his green eye’s lingered on Caden’s red for a bit, squeezing him ever more gently on the shoulder to remind him not to make a break for it, before turning and directing the three, making sure to stay behind them in the event the wayward Freemont tried to run.

“Now, if we just go down this hall, and take a right…” He began.

@Caden S. Freemont @Daniil Ryalor

 

[Eirene Liu]

Eirene was glancing between the three males, her eyes narrowed and her brows furrowed in confusion. It was readily apparent she'd picked up on there being some subtext she missing, with no clue as to what it might be. "De training fields sound good," she allowed. "I am good with de glaive. If I am allowed, I first try wit' dat?"

Daniil put his paw on the sword at his side, and his tone grew slightly plaintive. "Cousin, if we'll be training with practice weapons, then... well..." He looked back to his cousin, a hint of worry in his eyes. "Would you hold my blade while I practice?" He'd not been without his mother's blade for more than a day in the near twenty years he'd been entrusted with it. It had led to a few jokes within House Ryalor about it being the prince's security blanket, though no one dared to make those jokes within earshot of Daniil or his close family.

 

[Caden S. Freemont]

When Alwyn met Caden's gaze and squeezed his shoulder, the marten lost any doubt that the fox knew who he was. It was strange, this fear welling within him. He had been on countless battlefields, faced death more times than he could remember, been in far tighter spots than the one he now found himself in. And yet, he felt like he was a kit again. He felt as he did when he knew his mother was dead and gone forever, when he did not know who he could trust to look out for him save for himself. As a kit, deep in the pit of his traumatized soul he knew that he was inadequate for that task. So he coated himself in bravado and blood, anger and spite and misguided revenge, anything to keep that fear at bay.

Caden had thought that fear was gone now. He thought all the years of training and fighting and becoming so capable as to make a name for himself had finally conquered that weak, fearful, crying kit who only wanted to be held and kept safe. But no, that little kit was still there, the marten was realizing. He was coming to the surface and sending his heart racing and his hackles rising and his pupils dilating and his paw beginning to stray to the hilt of his sword.

This Ryalor knew him. This Ryalor knew what he had done, and he was going to ruin everything Caden had worked for to finally have a peaceful life.

His paw clenching hard at his side, Caden stopped himself from clasping his weapon. "To the training grounds, then," he said flatly. "It will be an honor to demonstrate what I am capable of."

 

[Alwyn Ryalor]

“We have all of the common, and, indeed, even uncommon variety of weapons, both in wooden form, and in blunted form, at the training grounds. Since you are all just undergoing an evaluation, we will test you out with the wooden ones to begin with.” Alwyn responded professionally to the black-furred ferret, before turning his attention to Daniil. He glanced down at the blade then back up at his cousin, and then the other two, before bowing slightly as was the tradition and accepting it, taking it and carefully attaching it his left side, though not before withdrawing it slightly from its sheathe and admiring for a moment the rippling patterns in the steel, how it had seemed untouched by countless battles, and how light it was. Auldurnian steel blades were very rare, even for House Ryalor, as not only was the particular type of ore needed to produce them hard to find, but the process to make them was arduous and took nearly ten times to as long as regular blades. It was a testimony to the love the family had for Daniil that he was allowed to keep the knife that had plunged into Vaelora’s back, and even more so that it had been carefully reforged and extended into a proper katana, albeit with the same hilt. Even Alwyn did not have such a blade, try as he might to figure out a way to get one without having to beg his father.

One day…

Sheathing the blade and keeping it carefully secured to its side, he gave the necessary instructions for the party to move forward, watching Caden like a hawk as he did so, his paw close to the hilt of his broadsword. It was not his main weapon, that was the poleaxe which he carried on duty, but he should be able to match the marten’s drawing speed in these relatively close quarters if he had to, unless he was much more skilled than the average Guard recruit. At any rate, soon they reached the washroom closest to the training grounds, or, rather, the one that Alwyn preferred to guide them to, given that it only had small windows that were too small for a beast to climb through.

Nodding at Caden, and then at the ferret and his cousin, he spoke once more.

“I will wait outside for our new recruit to finish washing up, you two, go continue down the hall, take a right, and then walk down to the end of that hall to the dark oak door. You should end up in the interior courtyard training grounds. Should not be too many beasts using it today, and the master-at-arms will answer all your necessary questions.” Alwyn instructed smoothly and professionally, having done this same thing a thousand times before, and likely would another thousand times unless his father had the decency to finally die, which was unlikely given that he had survived the Winter War, multiple civil wars, countless assassination attempts, and perhaps most impressively whatever had caused the rift between his parents just around the time his granduncle had died. His father was a bastard, but even Alwyn had to admit he was one tough one.

 

[Caden S. Freemont]

Caden stopped at the door and waited as Alwyn gave his instructions. The idea had crossed Caden's mind to find a way to keep Eirene nearby, but he quickly dismissed it. He would not get her involved in his business. This was his mess--albeit a very old mess--to manage. He flashed her a quick smile and nod as she and Daniil carried on towards the training grounds, though his attention lingered on her for only a heartbeat. Otherwise, he kept his loose gaze firmly on Alwyn's center of mass, keen for any movements that might indicate an offensive maneuver from the Lieutenant. Caden did not enter the washroom. He breathed deeply, in and out, in and out, focusing on the sound of his breath and the sensation of the expansion and contraction of his ribs and abdomen. His head cleared somewhat, his anger and fear sliding back just beneath the surface so that he could think more clearly. But still it was there, and he knew even the smallest provocation would bring it driving back to the forefront.

His heart slamming in his chest, he spoke as calmly as could manage, though a thread of tension wound through his words that mirrored the tension coiling in his body. "I knew there was some risk coming here, using my name. But I didn't expect to run into one, much less two from House Ryalor on my first day returning to the Ministry." With visible effort, he raised his eyes to Alwyn's and lifted his sword paw as a sign of placation. "Perhaps words rather than weapons can solve our differences? I came back to the Imperium for a peaceful life. I have no desire to reopen old wounds."

 

[Eirene Liu]

Daniil very regretfully let go of the blade, clearly showing an incredible amount of trust in his cousin by parting with it at all. He kept that knife at his side, but didn't seem inclined to go for it. Eirene lingered a bit in the hall, clearly sensing that something was afoot that was making Caden uneasy, but, unable to find an excuse to stay, she turned and followed the fox.

"Excuse me," she asked quietly of the fox as they walked. "Your motter... She was de Princess Vaelora Ryalor?"

Daniil started at the question, then, after a moment's long stare, he nodded solemnly. "She was. That was her blade." His paw went to rest atop the dagger at his side, and Eirene surmised that it had significance to the event as well. Vengeance blades were, in Hanshiman culture, wicked, cursed things. There was a phrase, yuan yuan xiang bao he shi liao, meaning "when retribution is settled with retribution, when does the cycle end?" She'd once been just as obsessed with avenging the slights against her order, and it had gotten her nowhere. It had only been when she'd given that up that she'd found the person who mattered most in her life now.

"I am sorry," Eirene said quietly. "If I may ask... I hear it was de old mayor who caused her death. I read dat he is dead. Why den still carry a blade for her?"

Daniil's paw tightened on the blade, and his next words were terse. "The instigator was killed, but the catspaw who did the deed was never found. I carry the blade so that, when I find the beast responsible, I can lay this blade to rest in their heart."

Eirene's mind flashed back to Caden's reaction to seeing Daniil and that blade, and her heart sank. Zaogao. Well, she couldn't let this Daniil catch onto Caden, ever. She'd come to like the pine marten, and she understood that he regretted his past just as much as she regretted her own. Avenging a mistake from thirty years ago would help no one. "Is dat de wish of your motter?" she inquired quietly.

Daniil's glare was one of pain and anger. "It's my wish," he said shortly, the insult to his honor clearly stinging. Eirene winced, recognizing her misstep. Should have kept my mouth shut.

When they reached the sparring ground, Eirene selected a wooden glaive, one of a slightly different shape than what she was used to, but still perfectly usable, while Daniil swiftly retrieved a wooden katana. From the moment they entered the ring, he was upon her, his swings wild and stoked by rage. His form suffered for his emotion, and Eirene, even put on the defensive, managed to score a few hits on him that would have been lethal in true combat, but he kept coming after her. She decided that it was best to let him work this anger out of his system and switched to solely defending from his attacks. Sometimes, biding one's time and letting an enemy wear themselves out was the best strategy.

 

[Alwyn Ryalor]

As Alwyn watched his cousin and the black-furred ferret walk down the hallway, he glanced down the opposite end of the hall, and briefly opened the washroom door to peak inside to make sure no other beasts were around before the marten spoke to him. He listened carefully to the albino before him, a pensive look on his face. It was all lining up to truly be him, but he had to be sure-it was still possible, albeit a slim chance, that the real Caden had told his story to someone who looked like him, then died. Such things had happened before, reading through the Guard’s archive when he was but a young apprentice and bored out of his mind in Amarone. He had to be one hundred percent sure before he took any action, so he had to say something only he would know. What did his granduncle say that the young Caden would certainly remember? That certain lullaby…

After the marten had finished speaking, Alwyn gave him a nod, then slowly, and soothingly, as if he was speaking to a baby, began repeating the words that his granduncle often used many times when he himself was a kit and unable to sleep.

“Luč solnca zolotogo, Tʹmy skryla pelena, I meždu nami snova, Vdrug vyrosla stena. Nočʹ projdët, nastupit utro jasnoe, Znaju, sčastʹe nas s toboj ždët, Nočʹ projdët, projdët pora nenastnaja, Solnce vzojdët, Solnce vzojdët, Solnce vzojdët….*”

*The dark veil of stormy clouds, has hidden the rays of the golden sun, once again a shroud has risen, dividing us. Do not worry my child, the night will pass and so will the rain, the morning light will bring us day, I believe that bliss awaits us, the sun will wise, the sun will rise, the sun will rise….

 

[Caden S. Freemont]

Caden didn't know what to expect from Alwyn. He prepared himself for every response he could imagine, even suspecting that he may have to fight the fox. But when Alwyn spoke, Caden froze, his ears flattening in surprise, his sword paw falling slack to his side. Tension released from his shoulders.

"That--How did you--?" He couldn't finish a thought, too many questions surfacing as bodily sensations buried deep in his bones and tied to no particular memory save for that of calm serenity that, even now, washed over him.

 

[Alwyn Ryalor]

Alwyn watched the pine marten’s expression like a hawk as he sung the ancient lullaby, watching as it unsettled him and brought him off guard, and not in a simply confused way, but in a way that struck at his very soul. It was unmistakably the Caden Freemont, son of Nuori Sken and Gordon Freemont, and the murderer of his aunt Vaelora. Alwyn had been subconsciously preparing himself for this revelation, more so than Caden had for what he had revealed, and that split second difference between them bought him all the time he needed.

Now.

Taking advantage of the marten’s momentarily relaxed stance, Alwyn planted his own footpaws solidly on the ground and pushed forward, hard, then barreled into Caden as he shoved him through the door of the washroom, pushing him forward and launching him unceremoniously forward into the opposite wall across from it, although not at a speed capable of causing him real injury. As the marten recovered his stance and looked to draw his sword, Alwyn put up one paw in a conciliatory halting gesture, as he used the other one to open the door, look down both sides of the hallway again, and then bar it shut.

Turning to Caden, with a look comprised of shock, uncertainty, and even sadness, he apologized.

“I am sorry for that, but I had to stop you and be sure we could talk in private. I could not risk any beast knowing what we have to talk about. You are him. The actual Caden Freemont.”

Alwyn put his right gloved paw up to his face, furrowing his brow and closing his eyes in apparent frustration and quick, deep thought. When he removed it again, he spoke, though he kept his paws carefully aware from his weapons. He was not going to make another move against the pine marten like he had before.

“We have a lot to talk to about…” He sighed deeply “...but from most of House Ryalor, you have nothing to fear. If you do not have any questions, I can explain further, or answer them for you.”

 

[Caden S. Freemont]

"Fy faen," Caden muttered in northern Varangian, rubbing the back of his head and sagging into the wall. He let out a long sigh as he attempted to settle the energy coursing through his limbs from the fox's sudden assault. Showing his teeth in a grimace, he jerked a paw towards the door. "That was your best idea to determine my identity? 'Gates, you could have just asked me."

He shook his head and let himself slide down to the floor. Caden buried his face in both of his paws and made a low growl in his throat. With another shake of his head, he ran his paws through his headfur and looked up at Alwyn, his brow furrowed in irritation.

"So, Alwyn, was it? What is your relation to Vaelora? And then yes, please do explain. I'd love to know who from the storied Ryalors wants to kill me and who doesn't give a rat's tail that I murdered their princess thirty years ago. I see Daniil is still carrying the knife around."

 

[Alwyn Ryalor]

Alwyn inclined his head slightly downwards and scratched his headfur, somewhat in embarrassment, somewhat in thought. He offered a small sigh before talking to the real Caden, voice remorseful, albeit lower as he approached the pine marten.

“I apologize, truly, but you never know who could be listening, and from where. This washroom is secure, but I do not know every single hidden passageway and listening hole in the building where an errant word could make its way to the wrong person. Only the Minister himself and perhaps the Captain of the Guard knows that in totality, and who knows who my family has influence over?”

Glancing down at him, eyes and voice harder at the seeming flippancy to which Caden referred to Vaelora, he admonished him.

“Lieutenant Ryalor to you for now, and she would have been my older cousin, had I been born when she was alive. Everyone cared when she died, my family are a lot of things, but when our blood is spilled, we still mourn just like every other one, harder even. Especially my father, my mother, my granduncle who, by the way, was her grandfather and shielded you from assassination attempts, and…”

His voice took on a less harsh, but more sad tone as he glanced down at his cousin’s katana in his belt.

“Her adopted...no, her children. Daniil, who you have met, he…” Alwyn’s voice choked up a bit at the pain his cousin had gone through and still had all these years later “...he was the first one to see her dead, and he was never the same afterwards. Night terrors, endless insecurity, and inability to form relationships...he...he really loved her. She was not always the best beast in her life, but she loved her kits, and she was trying...that is until a knife was plunged into her back. Your knife.”

He paused, seeing the look on the marten’s face, then sighed.

“I am sorry, that was too harsh. Most of the family understands, now, that you were an instrument, a grieving kit manipulated by a bastard of a todd who is rotting at the lowest level of Hellgates. My father and mother called off any kind of vengeance on you decades ago, even Alexei understood who the true villain was, Anithias. And he paid the price…” Alwyn’s eyes flashed darkly at the mention of Anithias, who, he had never met but who he saw caused deep, genuine pain for his entire family, who his father made a point of taking the family to see the tree he was hanged on every year when possible, a tree which he carefully preserved both as his own kind of monument to Vaelora and a reminder of what happened when you crossed the Ryalors.

He offered a paw to Caden, as if to help him up, as he continued, voice much softer than before.

“Alwyn is the name, yes, and we have to talk more about Daniil. If he found out you were the one who put the blade in Vaelora’s back that…would not be good.”

 

[Caden S. Freemont]

Caden hesitated as he looked at Alwyn's outstretched paw. As the fox spoke, he had managed to get his anger in check, only to be left with a dull ache settling into his chest. His expression had settled into a neutral scowl as he listened to the Lieutenant. Finally he took the fox's paw.

"You don't need to apologize to me." Caden allowed himself to be pulled to his footpaws. "It was my knife, and I knew full well what I was doing, whether or not I was young and had been manipulated. Her blood is on my paws. It was a different time and a different life, yes. But that doesn't change what I took from you and your family."

He sighed. "I'm sorry. I know that doesn't really cover the ramifications of what I did, but truly, I am. I know the pain of losing a mother--it's what drove me to revenge, after all. That I took Daniil and his siblings' mother from them will forever be etched on my soul." His expression hardened. "I am glad, at least, that Anithias is gone. The world is a better place without him.

"But what is there to talk about Daniil?" Caden glanced at the door again, as though expecting the gray fox to step through into the room. "Is there more than simply keeping the information from him? I can follow that instruction well enough."

 

[Alwyn Ryalor]

Alwyn was a bit worried at first, as the pine marten scowled, but as his words seemed to reach Caden’s ears, he saw what he wanted to see. Remorse, a recognition that what he did was wrong with no justification, and anger towards the one who had manipulated him. His stance and voice softened. He had heard many stories about Nuori Sken from his father and mother, how their families had once been friends, and he saw the potential for that to be reforged once more. Thinking for a moment, he leaned back against the washroom counter.

“Aye, Anithias is in ‘Gates, if the gods be just, and most of the family, well, except for my father, mother who still grieve and do not blame you as I mentioned, have peace with her death, but only Daniil still…” He tried to think of a kind way to phrase it “...the others, they found their own paths in life, moved up, even moving on, making friends and starting families of their own. In that, they found healing for their grief. Daniil, he has tried his best, but, it has been hard for him to find his path to the future, so the past, it consumes so much of him.”

Alwyn paused, a pained look crossing his face.

“He is a good beast. One of the genuine few there are. Better than my parents, better than me, better than my siblings. He is just...struggling. So, yes, obviously, we need to keep your involvement in her death quiet. On our end, we have said nothing, only that we do not know where the assassin went, or if they are still alive. But there has always been the question...Caden, who else knew? Who else could bring this nightmare back for him? They will have to be…”

He uncomfortably tugged the collar of his jacket with his blacked gloved right paw.

“...dealt with, and in a quiet manner. Whether that be through gold, or…” He trailed off, uncomfortable at sounding like his mother “...or at least until Daniil finds his purpose and a good vixen to help him heal. If he were to find this out today, I worry for him.”

 

[Caden S. Freemont]

Caden pulled off his glasses and rubbed at his eyes with thumb and forefinger of one paw. He leaned his head back against the wall and looked at the ceiling, sighing heavily, as though in defeat.

"Yes, well, what did I expect, coming back here?" He mused quietly as he slid his glasses back on. The marten crossed his paws over his chest and regarded Alwyn with a level gaze.

"If there are loose ends to be tied, I consider it my responsibility to do so, and not wholly for the sake of Daniil, though I do feel as though I owe him a great debt that will never be repaid. You see, I know something about finding somebeast to help in healing from great pain. My late husband was the one who helped me become a much better beast than I could have on my own given the path I was on when I met him."

His expression hardened. "But that path eventually caught up to me, and I lost him because of it. I am now responsible for his daughter--our daughter--and I will not have any part of my past jeopardizing her health and safety again. I came here to start anew, Alwyn. I need to be here for her, as I'm the only family she has left. If that means I need to assist in making sure certain elements who know what I did are taken care of, then so be it." He put his paw out to the fox.

"You have my word I will not say anything to Daniil, and that I will do what is necessary to make sure the truth does not come to light."

 

[Alwyn Ryalor]

Alwyn listened to the older marten patiently, nodding as he further explained things, internally raising an eyebrow at the fact that Caden preferred jacks, but, honestly, he did not care all that much. As long as this Freemont was even a tenth as capable as the stories he had been told about his mother, and had his back in all circumstances, nothing else mattered. Some beasts still had their prejudices, cultural, theological, or otherwise, but as a member of the Guard, and as a Ryalor, he needed all the allies he could get. Taking the marten’s paw, he shook it vigorously.

“Welcome, then, Caden, the Imperium is always a place to start anew, even for those who were born here, under her Majesty’s grace. I thank you for agreeing to be circumspect around my cousin, I love him, and, if you need help dealing with any loose ends, I will be happy to assist both for your sake and his. Far too much blood has been spilled trying to equalize what has been done in the past, and far too many people would return us to those days if they had the chance.”

He gave the white-furred Marten a quick nod.

“We have, such as it is, a kitcare stipend, free daycare, and free schooling for members of the Guard, if you are accepted, so your daughter will be safe and educated during your shifts. In addition, if you would like, although my father is…” he held up his paws for a moment, making a frustrated gestgure “...difficult much of the time, he did preserve what he could of your mother’s remains, such as they were, and assets, in the event that you returned one day. He is out on some sort of mission to Urk, but when he returns, if it could help bring you closure and help you learn more about your mother, you might want to talk to him. He knew her personally, and made sure she was honored at the Winter War of 1733 Memorial. If you look around, I am sure you will even see her portrait here in a few places.”

Opening the washroom door, and looking down the hall, satisfied that no one had overheard their conversation, he gestured for the marten to follow him.

“To the training room, I think, for an initial test of your skills. I suspect you’re pretty good from your movements, but it’s something of a box to check and there is always room to improve. We can work with most weapon choices, although I personally prefer the poleaxe and broadsword, as combined they give you a lot of flexibility to handle all types of opponents, and, with the right armor and positioning, archers are not as much as a problem as one might think.”

 

[Caden S. Freemont]

The ache in Caden's chest was slowly diminishing, and as he shook the todd's paw and listened to Alwyn, he felt something akin to hope warming his gut.

"I'd appreciate meeting your father and reconnecting with what assets are available to me from my mother's estate." They exited together, Caden speaking as they went. "In terms of combat skills, arming sword has been my preferred weapon. Apparently it was my mother's preference as well. I am sure if necessary I could train on another weapon and pick it up quickly. I've had to use polearms in a pinch before. And I'm fairly well-practiced in paw to paw combat.

"Regarding my desires for a position here, I will be frank with you, Lieutenant. I am seeking a position as an instructor and will walk to find work elsewhere if the only option for me is regular active duty in the field. I'll even go to Niceties if that's what it takes. I'm willing to take the occasional assignment in the field as necessary, but ultimately my goal is to stay out of harm's way as much as possible. I've had enough of that in my lifetime, and if I'm going to be around for my daughter, Asta, I need to keep my head attached to my body." He let out a dry chuckle, resting a paw on the hilt of his sword as they walked.

"I traveled most of the Varangian continent for the past two decades, eventually captaining a mercenary crew of about a score of beasts. It was just in the last five years that I settled in the northern portion of the continent with Einar and Asta, and I took work there training up the beasts in the village who were of age to join the army. I'm best with novices and intermediate trainees, I'm told, and my experience leading a crew has given me logistical experience as well, which I can teach." He shrugged. "I'm not seeking fame, wealth, or glory anymore, Lieutenant. I've seen what that can do to a beast; I've had my fair share of all three, and the ramifications of such a life have brought me great heartache, not to mention a back that aches every morning. Getting old is hell enough on the body, worse when you've bee throwing yourself into battle for years on end."

He pushed open the door to the training grounds ahead of Alwyn and held it open for the fox. "So, I'll show you what I'm capable of. If the Ministry will have me in the capacity I desire, you can trust my loyalty to the cause."

The clatter of wooden weapons and churn of beasts fighting brought his attention to where Eirene and Daniil sparred. He tracked their movements, noting the fox's temperament and how it impacted his performance. Eirene, for her part, was clearly a veteran, and kept her head against Daniil's attacks. She defended deftly, and Caden could see how she was drawing his energy from him, wearing out the younger fox who fought with such rage. Guilt welled in him, seeing Daniil fight, noting the pain in the todd's eyes. Caden could not help but feel responsible. Even if Anithias had used him, he had struck the blow. The marten resolved to do what he could to ease Daniil's burden, for he had been the one to place it on the fox's shoulders all those years ago.

 

[Eirene Liu]

Eirene patiently bore through Daniil's rage; she'd once fought with a similar fury, though hers had been derived from fanaticism rather than grief. It was clear that he'd taken her comment personally, and it was propelling him to recklessness. It was also wearing him out. Eirene knew from experience how short a candle rage could be; in the old days, Bezine had gotten the upper paw on her several times simply by letting Eirene wear herself out, then striking. It seemed that strategy was applicable here as well.

Daniil's movements were beginning to flag, and she waited, searching for her opening. As he drew back from an attack, panting from exertion, she found it. She moved swiftly, coming in from his off side and forcing him to turn to defend. She moved swiftly, jerking her glaive up and letting his blade pass through empty air, her own blade descending to rest as his neck instead, the benefit of reach keeping him far from being able to retaliate. "You fight good," she told him, "but wear yourself out. Pace yourself," she advised. "Fighting is about being de last standing, not de first to strike."

As Alwyn and Caden approached, the pair turned and, each entering at-attention stances appropriate to their weapons, stood ready. "Sir," Eirene stated, years of experience in various guard organizations coming back to her. "Ready for inspection sir."

 

[Alwyn Ryalor]

Alwyn listened patiently to everything that Caden said, taking the time to take it in and think before he said anything. It was a skill he was still developing, honestly, but one of the few things his mother had told him that had stuck was that silence was power. Clearly, the beast was quite experienced, having gone through a lot both in battle, and in maturity and mindset, although he would still have to test him before he could accept him in an instructor’s position. A friendly sparring duel, albeit with all their weapons, just to check. Trust, but verify, had been instilled in him from birth by both his uncle, and his father and mother when they had bothered to parent him. He replied to the marten courteously as they stepped into the training grounds.

“An instructor position, once you have gone through your initial screening, would definitely be something that we could accommodate, although you may be called in occasionally for the more critical operations if there are no other beasts available. Justice, such as it is, does a decent enough job of keeping public order in most circumstances. Misanthropy these days tends to crack down on fires before they get too hot, Commerce can handle all but the most recalcitrant tax evaders, and Niceties does well enough with their duties. The Army and Navy have been able to handle most threats without our intervention.”

Pausing to take a breath, he continued as Caden opened the door, and the both of them entered the training grounds.

“Truth be told, aside from our duties to guard important officials and the Empress, while the other Ministries are wielded as scalpels, we are something of the Hammer of the Empress, when some problematic nail gets too far out of place, we are there to smack it back into its rightful position. That, thankfully, does not happen too much these days.”

He stood and watched the duel between his cousin and the black-furred ferret, unknowingly coming to much the same conclusion as Caden. He had spirit, but was vulnerable to being manipulated. One of the things his Granduncle had drilled into him, repeated by almost a decade in the Guard, was to always keep a level head, to always pace oneself, and to strike only when certain. Daniil was going to burn himself out, or leave himself vulnerable, and-there it was.

As the two finished their duel and stood to attention, Alwyn gave them both a brief, professional nod.

“It looks like you two fought well, although, of course, there is always room for improvement for the both of you, as there is for us all.” Alwyn replied, largely to shield his cousin’s ego, since some needed more room for improvement than others. Taking both his broadsword and Daniil’s katana out of his belt, he carefully handed them over to his cousin and placed them in his paws, holding onto his for an extra moment to encourage him, before turning back to Caden.

“Mr. Freemont, if you would hand over your weapon to your companion, and then pick your preferred weapons, we can begin your assessment as well.”

 

[Caden S. Freemont]

Caden was pleased with Alwyn's response to his terms. He had half expected to have his proposal rejected. He was certain, at least, that he could pass whatever assessments were put before him. Unbuckling his arming sword, he pawed it off to Eirene with a nod.

"Clever tactics. I look forward to sparring with you."

He went to the practice weapons and picked a wooden arming sword that was near to the same length and heft of his own weapon. Then he sorted through the stack of round shields to find one he felt was the perfect balance of weight and size for both good coverage and maneuverability. Giving the sword few experimental twirls and thrusts, he nodded. "This will do."

Caden tracked to the sparring ring, kicking at the loose soil to get a feel for its grip. He turned back to Alwyn, shouldering the wooden sword. "What are the parameters of your assessment? Any standard safety rules I should keep in mind?"

 

[Alwyn Ryalor]

After Daniil took his weapons, Alwyn went and found one of the poleaxes closest to his usual one in length, there were many different lengths used for different situations, but he preferred the conventional one since it worked best in most situations. Getting a feel for the hardened black oak, he nodded, and then walked over to Caden was. He did not have to do quite as much preparation to be prepared as he was familiar with the training ground, but decided to be cautious. He had been analyzing the white marten since the incident in the washroom, and while he was not one hundred percent sure of his measure, he had the feeling he was pretty close to his own level on a lot of areas. That was, of course, to be expected after all-he had a decade on him, and what sounded like to be a lot more real world experience, although Alwyn gave himself a decent chance thanks to the intense training he had received from veterans of the Civil War, his granduncle, and from the assignments that he had been put to. Still, he would not be arrogant, and take this threat seriously.

As he positioned himself to get the most out of his poleaxe, namely, the range advantage he had over Caden that would force the marten to take risky moves if he wanted to hit him, he replied.

“If you prefer, we could put on safety equipment, but I get the sense we are both experienced enough to not have to do such for a friendly measuring contest, although if you ever wished to really go at it for training, I would oblige,” Alwyn replied, giving a slight chuckle “but for now, no hits to the head, you take a wound that would be disabling you do not use that limb or paw, you take a fatal hit you go down. We have as much space as the sparring ring provides, which is ample, for various tactics. The assessment will comprise of first your primary weapon against mine, your secondary weapon if you have any against mine, or, failing that, your primary weapon vs my secondary one, and then a complete match between all our weapons. That should allow me to judge where you stand.”