Ever since I read Return of the King for the first time, I've always wanted to use the word "biouvacked" in a piece about cavalry.
Um yeah I still haven't managed to work that one in. But here (FINALLY) are some romps with Oscar and Kieran... WHERE KIERAN IS OBNOXIOUS AND LOUD :D
Original characters are from "Back in the Knights". I tried to make them minor players this time. Everything else I don't own, naturally, because it belongs to Nintendo. Woe.
It took me a good thirty seconds to realize where I was upon awakening. It was too dark, for one thing. By no doing of my own, I always woke up at dawn: but I couldn't see anything but dark folds of fabric on all four sides.
Then the night before came back to me, and I shivered, sitting up quickly to throw back the bed curtains. Ugh, yes, there it all was. The expansive marble floors gleamed in the dim morning light, while the vaulted second-floor windows gave a very private view of the sparring courtyard. There was a privy closet (with a curtain, no less), and the arched walls soared up to a dizzyingly high ceiling... no, I certainly hadn't dreamed last night.
A promotion. The goddess only knew why. We'd all expected to return in shame and total disgrace to the capital, nursing newly-healed wounds and slinking to the lowest beds in the barracks. But lo! our queen had greeted us at the door, calling each of us by name. It was a good thing I'd already been kneeling when she had informed me of my promotion to general, telling me that Erk was to replace me as captain of Fifth Platoon: otherwise I might've fallen down in shock. I'd blankly allowed myself to be escorted to a new and much more magnificent room than ever, barely thinking about where the other knights had gone, or where the Mercenaries had suddenly disappeared to.
I yawned, going over to the window to look out. It was a beautiful morning, if still somewhat grey and cold: the courtyard was still empty. I shivered as a breeze blew in the window - I wasn't wearing anything yet - and went back over towards the bed to find trousers.
Probably the most exorbitantly unnecessary part of the whole room was the mirror. I paused by it for a moment, wondering why on earth someone would ever think I needed something like this: it was a five-foot-tall monstrosity, standing in a wooden frame next to the bed. Perhaps in the past other generals had felt a need to ogle themselves every morning.
I eyed my reflection, not a little uncomfortably. I'd never owned a mirror in my life, and the occasional glimpses of myself that I caught in panes of glass and on water surfaces hadn't really convinced me that it was anything to bother about. It wasn't as if I were hideous, at least. Tall, with good muscle tone and pretty good shape, if with messy hair... the face wasn't much to look at when I was angry, though. I frowned at my reflection, startled at just how stern I looked. Perhaps that was why Erk said I frightened all the new recruits.
No, it wasn't that, either. I just knew... every time I crossed the room I would think I saw someone else. And I would probably end up punching the mirror at least once in the bleary early morning hours. I sighed, irritated.
This was intolerable. There was no chance I would be getting back to sleep now, and the queen had given no indication as to when the promotion would take place. Not that I wasn't eager: in all seriousness, I only hoped I could keep my wits about me when all my dreams suddenly came true. But I was uneasy to find out what had conspired that led to me getting promoted... rather than demoted, like I'd thought would happen.
I suddenly noticed that someone had left a mug and a pot of what was probably coffee on the desk. I wrinkled my nose, going over to it: I'd resigned myself long ago to putting up with having servants. It was just something officers had to do. Still... I might as well take advantage of it, I thought resignedly, and poured myself a cup.
Its bitter taste cleared away any of my remaining bleariness, and I crossed back to the window once more. The sun was starting to come up a little, and I felt good... quite strong. It had been a major relief the night before last, to find that I hadn't died, of course, but the ride back yesterday had been unnaturally tiring. A night's sleep in a comfortable bed had done me a lot more good that I liked to admit.
I had just finished taking a drink of coffee, and was leaned over, resting my elbows on the sill, when a very cold pair of arms wrapped themselves around my midsection. Instinctively, even as I inhaled in a squeak at the indignation of cold armor against my naked skin, I jerked my arm back to elbow whoever it was in the stomach. My coffee went flying, brown liquid exploding as the mug clanged down to the floor.
Unfortunately, they were wearing armor there, too, and even as they let go with an "oof!" I gasped and clutched my elbow, eyes watering in pain. My startlement melted away, though - even as my annoyance grew - at the sound of laughter behind me.