Mikal shook his head. "Back on that are we?" He couldn't believe what he was hearing. Diabolus was a story. An ancient story passed down by his ancestors about how their Empire's rise. One he didn't truly believe in. But if Sophia wanted to believe in an old fairytale and offer him a way out he'd be foolish not to take it. He was still a prisoner after all. It'd seem a little weird for him to want to stay here. It was only natural that he'd want to get away and return to his home. "I can get there on my own no problem."
But part of him didn't want to leave. The prince's gaze moved over to Clover. His mind flashed back to last night and their moments of passion. The thought of leaving now after that made his stomach turn. "Though the bad weather from last night made the traveling difficult, the water ways are flooded and raging right now after yesterday's rainfall. I know of some bad spots. Seeing as it'd be faster for me to travel by boat back to the capital I can leave maybe day after next?" Mikal explained. "Once the river is calm I can go and cover a lot of ground." Two days. That should give him enough time to work whatever spell Clover weaved on him out of his system.
It hadn't dawned on Clover that Sophia meant Mikal would be returning to his people. She was expecting rage to fill her being--after all she'd been through to kidnap him and keep him here--but instead a sadness clogged her emotions. He was leaving. But, he couldn't be leaving, they had just done that. Did it mean anything at all? Wasn't she sure, last night, that it would mean nothing at all? Red eyes fell to Mikal, unsure of where to look. He was leaving. Her first time had been for nothing. Clover should have been delighted she'd finally be rid of her enemy, but she wasn't.
He made some excuse about the rain, but Clover and Sophia both saw right through it. He... wanted to stay? Clover didn't understand the implications of that, but Sophia did. She just nodded with her knowing smile. "He will be upon us very soon," she warned again. "Best not dawdle too much if we can help it. Very well. Mikal, I did want to talk to you in private."
Clover cocked her head at her elder. "What?" she murmured. "Why?" It was rhetoric; Clover knew better than to question authority. She turned away awkwardly and left the tent.
Sophia was silent for a few more moments. When she did speak, she was smirking. "We are still in the presence of ears who should not be hearing." Outside, Clover slunk further away. Only then did Sophia start really speaking. "Mikal. You have been a part of our tribe for a little while now. I trust it has been quite the learning experience for you. Our Clover is set to have her own learning experience as well. If I can ask, take her with you to the castle. She will protest, but I think it would be best for her. Protect her like she has protected you. Alert your family of the impending danger. From there, take on Diabolus, and save us. I trust you can do that."
"I don't mind bringing her." Mikal rubbed the back of his head. "But I won't force her to do something she doesn't want. I will try to stress the importance of going though so..." He didn't know what else to say. Sophia was letting him go and let him bring Clover. It was a compromise between their plans. The prince wanted to stay and work through whatever it was that sent his heart and mind reeling whenever he thought of Clover, of their night together. And now with what the elder suggested he couldn't help but let a few thoughts run through his head. This time the scene took place within his own bedchamber. The promise of a bed, even if just for sleeping, was too tempting to the prince. "When we're alone again I will mention it too her and let her decide."
If Diabolus was in fact real then dark times were indeed ahead. From the stories he has heard as a child the dark dragon was a major blight upon the land. And his defeat in the bedtime tales were very vague. They always mentioned the knights of old having some sort of great power behind them to defeat Diabolus. But that could have been anything. Some powerful magic well they tapped into? A divine blessing? A boon from a nature spirit? Blessed weaponry? The list went on and on. But Mikal knew one thing, he was falling behind. While hard labor around the camp was good for his body he hadn't held his sword in awhile. "I need to train. Give me my sword back so I can practice. Your people might not have a decent sparing partner for me but I can at least go through my katas and not get rusty." Mikal crossed his arms. "You want me to stop the big bad dragon then I need to train. You can even have them watch me if it'll make your people feel better. As many as they want. After all I might be good but a thousand against one is a loss no matter what."
Sophia again smiled at the boy before her. He was placing Clover's feelings above the his own, it seemed. A younger Mikal would have taken her without pausing, but this man was willing to bring the girl only if she agreed. Sophia couldn't tell when Mikal had made this maturation, but she was glad for him. She gave him a little nod of approval. If the two were starting to get along, this would go a lot more smoothly than the elder feared.
Strong hands balled into fists and moved to either hip. A white brow arched in a question, a challenge. "None of us are a decent sparring partner for you, mm?" she repeated. There was a smirk at her lips. "I would like to challenge that, Mikal." Sophia went to get Mikal's blade, but returned with two. She handed the prince's weapon back to him and kept a duller-looking blade to herself. "We don't normally use weapons, as our primary mode of combat does without, but we still have a few blades. This one was once a Drakilian artifact. Do you recognize the make? If memory serves, it was crafted by the same man who made yours." She ran her fingers along the edge of the blade. "It has been a while. Do forgive me. Come."
Sophia walked outside, where Clover was waiting impatiently. The younger woman looked up at the sound of footsteps. She looked ready to ask a question, or a string of questions, but stopped herself. Sophia turned towards Mikal. "If you would give us the space, Clover," she said, motioning for her to move out of the way. Clover, confused, obeyed. Her eyes locked on the blade in Sophia's hand. The elder took a defensive stance, sword poised in front of her. "Alright then, Mikal," she said softly. "Come at me then, will you? These old bones could use the practice."
Nearby Lucet looked over at Sophia and gasped. "Our elder is swordfighting with the prince boy?" someone whispered. "Wasn't she a great swordswoman in her day?" another pondered. Clover got up and cocked her head. "Magna Lucem," she started, but Sophia cut her off with the wave of her sword. She looked on at Mikal, an excitement in her wizened eyes.
"I doubt it was made by the same person if that weapon is an artifact like you say." Mikal looked over the sword in Sophia's hands. "It is an old military design and I do mean old. Second age. That was about four hundred years ago." Before the Empire become what it was today there long history of internal strife. Sophia's blade came from the second age, a time of heavy internal political strife which ended in a brief civil war. As a result of this war Mikal's family came to rule. His ancestor, Kind Hirodon, lead the forces against a heavily corrupt government. Hirodon swayed the people to follow him, not that it took much effort. Conditions were poor, people starving in the streets. The war ended not with a mighty battle but with cunning guile. Hirodon infiltrated the castle with the aid of some defectors and in one night took control. "The Blood Wars. Those swords were in production before my ancestor took the throne. After he was crowned he changed things to remove the taste of the old guard."
Mikal held up his sword. "This was made twenty years ago on the day of my birth and given to me when I was ready to begin training." Of course Mikal didn't start off using the sword, he was a bit on the small side for it at the time. Wooden practice swords it was until he grew into the blade. "Forge Master Aron. Every time I see him I thank him for the tremendous effort he went through." Aron was also the man who taught Mikal how to work the forge. When the young prince questioned the man as to why he needed to learn the ways of the smith the response was a quick smack upside the head and a stern 'what good's knowing how to use a sword if you can't fix it when you break it?' Aron stressed the when, sure some day Mikal would splinter the blade. So far he had yet to be in a battle that fierce.
"But enough ancient history." Mikal gripped the sword with his right hand. Slowly he drew his blade, enjoying the sound. The metallic ring echoing around their space. The blade shone in the light, highlighting the runes. His Lucet garb didn't offer a belt to secure his sheath, forged weapons weren't something the Lucet had to consider when making clothing, so he gently tossed it. The sheath landing near Clover's feet with a heavy thud. Mikal gripped his sword with two hand. The familiar weight felt good to hold once more. The prince inhaled slowly and held it before exhaling. Mikal's aura was faintly visible, red energy wisping around his leg, arms and head. It even circled the blades. The runes glowed red as he channeled his energy. Mikal swung his sword in a series of strikes and fake blocks as he shook off the cobwebs. He was sharp as ever as he skillfully twirled and warmed up. He didn't know what Sophia was trying to pull but he'd play along. Mikal brought the sword down with a two handed slash. The ground beneath the blade seemed to crack lightly from impact. "Ok. I'm ready. Let's get this over with."
The elder let out a light laugh as he talked about his sword. "Your smith has ancestors as well," she said. "I know more about the history of your metalwork than you would think." She took her own sword in her hand, tossed it between either palm. It felt comfortable, despite how much time had passed since she'd fought with a blade. She prepared her stance, and moved both hands onto the hilt of her weapon. "Get this over with?" she repeated. "If I didn't know better, Mikal, I would say you were afraid of losing."
She knew her taunt would evoke something in him, and that's exactly what the elder wanted. She came at him, striking him with a ferocity that none would have suspected from the old woman. Her strikes kept coming, energetic blows that the prince would have trouble blocking. The rest of her tribe watched with amused eyes. This woman, who was old enough to be a great-grandmother, this fragile lady who had been an elder even when the war had started; she was a skilled swordbearer after all. Seeing her suave moments was a strange but prideful moment, and many of the Lucet began to cheer for her. In face, it seemed everyone was cheering, all chores stopped. All were cheering except Clover.
The young girl watched with a new fascination. Both fighters were skilled, and that was immediately clear. It was rare to see such fine swordsmanship in a Lucet, and Clover was impressed at that, but she was also impressed by the prince's skill. He was keeping up with the elder, and didn't seem to be struggling too much. It was quite the sight. Clover wondered if all Drakilians were like that, if all of them moved so gracefully, so... unlike beasts. She shook the thought. Their peoples' means of fighting were very different, and yet they were equal. That was why the war had been going on so long. No one could win.
Sophia deflected another of Mikal's attacks. She was breathing shallowly and smiling. "They've trained you well," she told him. "I didn't think I'd find someone to match me like this. Well done."
Mikal smirked. "I am the prince after all." His blade danced gracefully as he spared with Sophia. "The tutors and commanders were a hundred times more brutal with me than anyone else." During his early years with the army the trainers would single him out more than anyone. Everyone new they came up with any old excuse for extra drills be he got the worst for it. They didn't treat him better just because he was the heir. As prince he got that full brutality so he'd be ready out in the field.
As the two continued to engage in combat Mikal's gaze passed over Clover who was off to the side watching the exchange. She was silent throughout the graceful dance. He wondered what was going through her head as she watched her elder and the man she captured, gave herself to intimately the night before, clash with steel. This exchange hadn't been what he was expecting to happen, he just wanted to train a little bit. Stand off in the corner with however many guards they thought was acceptable and swing his sword around for a few hours lost in his own thoughts. But he had to admit he was enjoying himself.
But his thoughts wandered a bit to long on the woman who seemed to be constantly in his head. It was only a few seconds his gaze lingered on her but it was enough. He missed the block. Sophia's blade swung at him, a flash of silver in front of his eyes. Mikal had no choice. Channeling his energy he disappeared before the gathered Lucet. Seconds later he reappeared several feet away, crouched down on one knee, sword in the ground supporting himself. Sophia blinked at stared back at him, sword raised up ready to continue their friendly engagement.
"High Mystic Delara trained me herself. So I can use magical abilities." His breathing, which until now had been fine and steady, became ragged. His skin was a bit paler. Beads of sweat broke out on his forehead "I have an aversion to teleportation thought." The first time he blinked he was unconscious for about three weeks. So naturally he preferred to avoid the school of magic as much as possible. He was well versed in the theory and knew the spells he rarely performed the abilities. The last time had been years ago and after having been so long since then his reaction was bad. His head swam, this time not with thoughts of Clover, and his stomach dropped. Mikal leaned to his left side and emptied the contents of his stomach into the grass with a violent heave. There were sounds of disgust echoing around the clearing. Struggling, the prince stood up and withdrew his blade from the ground. "Ok...shall we...resume..." Mikal swayed and took three steps backward as he succumbed to teleportation sickness. His eyes rolled back as he passed out, sword falling from his grasp and clattering to the ground as Mikal landed hard on his back, unconscious.
It was an exhilarating battle, but Sophia could feel the prince's attention begin to waver. She, too, looked up and saw the prince's distraction. Clover was watching him with a fascination that betrayed her people. That was enough to make the old woman smile. She continued, focused, until Mikal could no longer keep himself together. He noticed, too late, that Sophia's blade was about to crash down on him, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.
But then, Mikal disappeared, leaving most of the Lucet confused. Sophia straightened and turned to where the prince materialized a few seconds later. She had an expression of amusement. "You can blink." Her voice was light, pleasantly surprised. "Delara... That was the name of my late teacher's teacher. The High Mystic taught you. No wonder you can perform such a spell." She spoke of this Drakilian as if she knew them, which confused more of the tribe. Her next words seemed more unsure, however. "It looks like what could not be taught was the ability to handle such magical struggle." She threw her sword down and approached the paling prince. "Mikal," she said, concern now in her eyes. "Mikal, are you alright?"
Everyone knew there would be no chance of finishing this fight. The elder had won, though she knew it had not been a fair battle. Mikal's distraction ran up to him as he collapsed. She knelt down beside him, already trying to feel for a pulse. "He knew magic?" she said, incredulous. Then, looking around, she asked, "Was I the only one that didn't know?"
Sophia called the crowd to disperse. Slowly but surely, the tribe resumed its daily functions. The elder knelt down beside Mikal. "He will be fine. His body resists the spell he just tried, and it made him very ill. It will soon cool down. Amateur magic users sometimes experience such effects, and some people just have natural aversions to certain spells." She placed the back of her hand to his forehead. "He put up a good fight. I am confident you will have a grand journey with him."
"Journey?" Clover repeated. "What journey? About that dragon again?"
Sophia didn't answer. "Come, bring him to the medic tent. Are you able to watch him until he wakes up? It could take hours."
Clover nodded, and did as she was told. As Mikal lay in one of the few beds inside the large tent, she watched him curiously. A mage too. So, he had been more than capable of resisting her when she'd taken him. Why hadn't he? Could that be linked to the same allure of last night? Her cheeks warmed at the thought. "Stupid," she whispered to him. "Don't exert yourself over such dumb things. Didn't your high-class teachers teach you that?"
Mikal groaned. "Ugh my head." The prince rolled over onto his side, feeling something soft underneath him. He relaxed a bit more. It was obvious it was a bed. Though he found it weird he was in a bed now after so long in the Lucet camp. Shifting his body caused his head to throb. A bad headache was the only indication of what he had done earlier. "Damn...magic." Mikal groaned again. "Better than getting a sword through the face though." Carefully opening his eyes he took in the sights before him. The prince was laying in an unfamiliar tent. The few nights he spent here he became familiar with the one he slept in. This one had different stains then the ones he'd memorized, transporting their homes around some where bound to get dirty. And the fact that he was in an actually bed clued him in on where he was. New surroundings, a rare bed, what looked like possible blood stains. The medic's tent. He had never been in here before but the clues made it easy to deduce his location. Patients required rest and comfort to help recovery, hence the beds. The blood from and wound that needed treating. Mikal had assumed they'd just toss him back into his normal tent and left alone.
Rolling onto his side again Mikal's eyes landed on Clover. "Hey there. Quite the show out there huh? Grandma certainly knows her stuff." He suppressed the grunt of pain as his head protested his movements. Mikal sat up on the edge of the bed, sitting in front of Clover. "So I take it I lost? Loosing consciousness typically isn't one of the win conditions for a fight." Looking around the tent he saw he had deduced correctly. Herbs and other salves were laid out around the tent along with some cloth bandages. Mikal also noticed they were alone. Could everyone be at dinner? Was he unconscious that long? Or did the healers simply not want to be in his presence and treat him? Both options were possible. Leaning forward he touched his forehead to her's and placed a light kiss on her lips. "Sorry if I made you worry."
Clover was able to watch over Mikal while remaining amused. She busied herself with some light knitting, but thought about the fight between her elder and not-lover. It had been quite the battle, and she was still baffled that this man had known magic all this time. What else was he capable of? The only magic she could ever get a solid grip on was the ability of her people passed on since the beginning of the Lucet. Maybe Mikal would even be able to teach her. Clover had tried to learn before but had never had the patience or concentration for it. She doubted this young prince could teach her, but her mind was less on the magic and more on him, on his hands coming over hers to direct her energies. His soft touch, at first in her hands and then moving to her face, her neck, the curve of her waist...
She was brought from her reverie by Mikal stirring. She looked up at him, arched a brow. He appeared to be in pain. Already she was getting up to gather some painkillers together from the medicinal herbs in the tent. "Grandma knows a lot of stuff," Clover said. She looked back at him when he groaned. "What gave you the impression you lost? Maybe the fact that you're here, in the nursing tent, being nursed?" She walked back to him and offered him a strange, dark green paste to swallow. "You were out a while. Almost got worried you wouldn't wake up at all."
Clover was expecting Mikal to reject the paste, or lightly taste it and throw it back at the taste, so she didn't put much effort in making sure he finished it. She set it aside and looked back at him. Suddenly, Mikal was moving towards her, and his lips were on hers. He pulled away and apologized for making her worry, though Clover felt that wasn't all he had to apologize for. "I--pardon?" she murmured. It had come out of nowhere, that kiss. She looked to the opening of the tent, making sure no one had come back from dinner early and saw what had just transpired. She looked back to Mikal, confused. "Um, no, it's nothing, I... What are you doing?"
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