Rule number one stated that anything small, cute, and fluffy was automatically considered to be "awesome."
"It's awesome!" She pointed to the little bird and made note, the albino before her grinning big. It was rare for him to have such a willing prospective and compliant ward, not like the boy.
"I know, right?" Gilbert patted the little peeping bird before removing his cloak and folding it neatly for his pet to rest on. It was one of the few instances that urged him to have order, save for maybe war tactics. Remembering his task, he turned back to the girl. "Francis said you were good. Is it true?" A small hint of odd lust colored his eyes, the same lust that came upon him in the heat of battle. She smirked; it was obvious that she knew this same lust as well.
"I can handle a sword better than any well trained warrior in his prime." The girl moved to the old swords the Prussian had provided and chose one, the heaviest. She beckoned her opponent to do the same with the lighter. Gilbert followed, watching her take stance.
"You look like a barbarian." He tested her temper. She'd be no good if she had no honor.
"Good. Then when they face me, they won't hold back." Ah, cocky too. Gilbert recognized this behavior from a certain other young lady, one who'd given up the conquest for land. They shared that same wild look, the same wavy and flowing hair (although this one had hair the color of bright fire), everything down to the clothing.
No wonder he kept her so long. He took stance. She reminds him of Jeanne.
The girl lunged at him, her advances quick and steady enough to catch the older nation off guard. She had weight behind despite her smaller size. There was no doubt no that she had more German in her than French. Gilbert pushed back and threw her, chuckling at her graceful rebound and small snarl as she approached again.
Just like her. Such a pretty, fierce girl. A smile crossed his lips and they exchanged blows for a good minute or two. The bird cheeped wildly, sensing someone. She watched it, leaving her wide open for Gilbert to knock the sword clean out of her hand.
"Rule number two: Don't get distracted. Distraction is fatal. Now, pick up your sword and try again. You were doing good before that." She nodded and resumed her previous attempt, ignoring the little bird's growing noise. They engaged in another round of sparring, starting to rough each other up. Every time she would go for his stomach, he'd nick her arm and push her around with his weight, bruising her arms and hips from falls and encounters with trees. Her temper flared.
"Had enough?" Gilbert laughed. "I suppose a weak girl like you would be worn out after a few minutes of heavy combat. Even that aristocrat could go for longer than this." He narrowly dodged a thrust in his vital region, laughing harder. "Don't you have a husband you should be tending to? I'm sure he doesn't like the thought of his wench with another man." His world went black for a moment as the hilt of her weapon collided with his jaw and gravity pulled him to the ground. She straddled him, dropping the sword to deliver blows to his far too handsome face and curse him in accented French.
"Rule number three," a cough escaped his lips as he felt her whole body freeze above him. She felt the tip of the sword positioned at the base of her skull. "is to always go for the kill. Never leave yourself open to attack just because you want revenge." Gilbert slid from under her, noting his bloody lip. This one had a lot of fight in her for a river girl, but a lot of faults as well. He stood and gathered the swords, walking back to his things and spotting a rather impatient looking Ludwig. "Just a moment more, West, and then we'll be on our way." An irritated sigh was all the answer he received.
Strange to think there's another like you. Only, I doubt she's so disillusioned to think that she is a male. Gilbert watched the girl check her face near the river, cleaning off her bloodied arms and wrapping the wounds haphazardly. She was understandably frustrated with the outcome of the duel. He wouldn't want to return to losing wars under French rule with such great natural skill.
"Hey." She turned to his calling, catching something small and neat. It was an ornate pistol, feminine in design but quite powerful for recent technology.
"What's this for?" The gun was waved around in the air a bit, and Prussia approached to clasp a hand on her shoulder.
"It's a gift, something like a welcoming into the Kingdom of Awesome-Prussia. Kingdom of Prussia." A serious tone took over. "I'm always looking to gain new territories, but I was rather surprised when a 'gift' from Francis was actually worth something. Maybe that's the German in you." He looked her over, not sure where that so called "German" was physically located for aside from her strong jaw line, she was nothing but French and African. In the words of his good friend, a mulatto, much like what Holland and his people were accustomed to bearing. Another oddity like himself, a misfit in the land of Europe.
"I guess this means you get to name me. I sort of have a name from Frère Francois, but not a human name like the rest of you." She watched as he fabricated ideas in his mind, and became startled when he slapped her shoulder. "Ouch!"
"Well, since you are already on the River Rhine anyway, we'll just stick to calling you Rhineland. Makes things easier that way. As for human names, you seem like the type to have a pretty name. How does Alise sound?"
She pondered for a moment before giving her response, a soft smile on her face.
"Sounds awesome."