A/N: This fic takes place directly after the conclusion of the war with Scanra, in which Tortall was victorious.
Alanna the Lioness, Baroness of Pirates Swoop, heiress of Barony Olau, and the King's Champion, drummed her fingers impatiently on her leg. Patience was not among her many gifts. Had I been born a cat, my tail would be twitching, she thought sardonically. Lioness. Cat. Ha. The woman gave herself a mental slap on both cheeks. Furious with the way her weary mind was working, she tossed her head in a desperate attempt to clear it sending copper locks flying every which way.
"What troubles you, my dear?" the man seated next to her asked. He was an average kind of person with nut brown hair and a mischievous glint in his brown eyes. Baron George Cooper was his name. He made his home in Pirates Swoop with his redheaded wife.
"This ride is so...boring!" Alanna replied flatly. "Besides, people get the notion that you are a delicately reared noble when you take to riding in coaches. Which I am not." Her husband smiled, placing a hand on her knee.
"Only you can make a simple stagecoach ride seem horribly outdated," he teased, bringing a smile to Alanna's tan face.
The woman had no remark to make, so she stayed quiet. Why speak without a reason? Instead she peered through the curtained windows, her violet eyes quick to catch details.
"I'm restless," she said finally, picking at the calluses on her sword hand. "With the conclusion of the war with Scanra, there's been little to do besides fighting Immortals, and Jon has his knights and the Own to do that. There's no treasure to hunt, or Roger to duel." Alanna had referred to the late Duke Roger of Conte, who had been a terrible man, few times over the twenty or so years since she had conquered him. She didn't like to talk about it because she didn't like to kill. "You want another Roger?" George asked, confused. Reading the look of displeasure on his wife's face, he changed the subject. "You could always return to Corus and help Jon tackle the adventure of calculating and renewing our losses," he suggested, straight-faced. Alanna just stared at him.
"Jon has Gary to help him with that, not to mention every other aide to the King," she remarked, the sarcasm going right over her tired head. "Besides I'm no paper shuffler. I wouldn't want to be Prime Minister, either. Poor Gary gets no field time. It's unfair!" the lady knight protested, gazing out the window "Would it be too unfathomable for you to consider that most knights don't want much field time?" George teased her.
"Sadly," she countered, straight-faced before she laughed. "Leave me be, laddy. I'd like a nap before we arrive at the Swoop and I don't doubt you do too." With that, Alanna kicked her boots off and curled her feet up under her skirt before falling into a gentle sleep.
Alanna shaded her eyes, looking far into the distance. They were nearly to Pirates Swoop, yet the woman still wanted to pull her hair out from boredom. To her surprise, a tall man stood off toward the forest by the side of the road. What was a man doing all alone in the wilderness? she asked herself, puzzled. As the stagecoach approached, Alanna noted that he was a thickly built man, over six feet tall with a ruddy, tan face and tightly curled black hair, with.
"George!" Alanna cried, startling her companion. "Wait! That's Raoul!"
"By George, it is!" he exclaimed, laughing at his silly pun. "But why, I wonder?"
"Stop the coach," Alanna instructed, heart racing. Why was Lord Sir Raoul of Goldenlake and Malories Peak, the knight commander of the King's Own standing alone by the forest?
"Stop the blasted stagecoach," she roared, as no one had heard her the first time. When the coach stopped, Alanna hurled herself from the carriage, sword in hand. She nearly tripped over her own skirts in the process. Curse them! she though angrily. If only the Carthaki's thought breeches presentable on woman!
"Raoul!" she cried, running across the springy grass. "Raoul, what in the blazes are you doing?" The large man looked up.
"Mithros, is that you, Alanna?" he murmured, giving her a one-armed hug.
"You didn't answer my question. Why are you here, all alone?" she demanded, hugging her friend back.
"Don't worry about it. It's not your concern-well actually, it really is something you ought to be involved in, but Jon wanted to tell you himself and-" Alanna cut him off.
"Wrong answer."
Raoul sighed, and straightened his King's Own uniform. "Like I said, Jon wants to tell you himself," he said, his dark eyes serious.
"I don't want to wait, do you understand? I'm the King's Champion, not just a normal knight. I need to know, Raoul!" Alanna struggled to keep herself calm. A famed Lioness outburst would not do here and now, she thought, biting her lip.
Raoul could sense her tensing up, and gave in. "The Dominion Jewel was stolen. King Maggur managed to slip it right out from under our noses." An eerie silence hung in the air.
"He didn't!" Alanna snarled. "And we all wondered why the Scanrans gave up so quickly! Oh, poor Jon!"
"Poor us, is more like it," Raoul said glumly. "And that's not even all. The spidrens have formed an army."
"A what?" she gasped. "I had no idea they're that intelligent!" A spidren army. The very thought gave her chills. Not excited chills, the chills that came with bloodshed.
"They're not," George interjected, ambling over, frowning. "A human must be behind it. Maggur's my guess." Raoul gave George a sickly grin, and filled him in on what he had missed.
"Somethin's not right here. The Scanrans are down thousands of men; many more then us. Jon said that Maggur's losin' grip on the clans. How, how, how can they be behind it?" Alanna looked from Raoul to George, who both looked as bewildered as she.
"One thing's certain. We need to talk to Jon."
A/N: Wow, this is my first attempt at a fanfic. Tell me how you like it okay!! Pleasssssssse review!! I'm begging you! And for you Romantics out there, there may or may not be romance, I haven't decided. Probably, being a romantic myself. (hehehheh, and I have yet to join HRU....)
Alanna the Lioness, Baroness of Pirates Swoop, heiress of Barony Olau, and the King's Champion, drummed her fingers impatiently on her leg. Patience was not among her many gifts. Had I been born a cat, my tail would be twitching, she thought sardonically. Lioness. Cat. Ha. The woman gave herself a mental slap on both cheeks. Furious with the way her weary mind was working, she tossed her head in a desperate attempt to clear it sending copper locks flying every which way.
"What troubles you, my dear?" the man seated next to her asked. He was an average kind of person with nut brown hair and a mischievous glint in his brown eyes. Baron George Cooper was his name. He made his home in Pirates Swoop with his redheaded wife.
"This ride is so...boring!" Alanna replied flatly. "Besides, people get the notion that you are a delicately reared noble when you take to riding in coaches. Which I am not." Her husband smiled, placing a hand on her knee.
"Only you can make a simple stagecoach ride seem horribly outdated," he teased, bringing a smile to Alanna's tan face.
The woman had no remark to make, so she stayed quiet. Why speak without a reason? Instead she peered through the curtained windows, her violet eyes quick to catch details.
"I'm restless," she said finally, picking at the calluses on her sword hand. "With the conclusion of the war with Scanra, there's been little to do besides fighting Immortals, and Jon has his knights and the Own to do that. There's no treasure to hunt, or Roger to duel." Alanna had referred to the late Duke Roger of Conte, who had been a terrible man, few times over the twenty or so years since she had conquered him. She didn't like to talk about it because she didn't like to kill. "You want another Roger?" George asked, confused. Reading the look of displeasure on his wife's face, he changed the subject. "You could always return to Corus and help Jon tackle the adventure of calculating and renewing our losses," he suggested, straight-faced. Alanna just stared at him.
"Jon has Gary to help him with that, not to mention every other aide to the King," she remarked, the sarcasm going right over her tired head. "Besides I'm no paper shuffler. I wouldn't want to be Prime Minister, either. Poor Gary gets no field time. It's unfair!" the lady knight protested, gazing out the window "Would it be too unfathomable for you to consider that most knights don't want much field time?" George teased her.
"Sadly," she countered, straight-faced before she laughed. "Leave me be, laddy. I'd like a nap before we arrive at the Swoop and I don't doubt you do too." With that, Alanna kicked her boots off and curled her feet up under her skirt before falling into a gentle sleep.
Alanna shaded her eyes, looking far into the distance. They were nearly to Pirates Swoop, yet the woman still wanted to pull her hair out from boredom. To her surprise, a tall man stood off toward the forest by the side of the road. What was a man doing all alone in the wilderness? she asked herself, puzzled. As the stagecoach approached, Alanna noted that he was a thickly built man, over six feet tall with a ruddy, tan face and tightly curled black hair, with.
"George!" Alanna cried, startling her companion. "Wait! That's Raoul!"
"By George, it is!" he exclaimed, laughing at his silly pun. "But why, I wonder?"
"Stop the coach," Alanna instructed, heart racing. Why was Lord Sir Raoul of Goldenlake and Malories Peak, the knight commander of the King's Own standing alone by the forest?
"Stop the blasted stagecoach," she roared, as no one had heard her the first time. When the coach stopped, Alanna hurled herself from the carriage, sword in hand. She nearly tripped over her own skirts in the process. Curse them! she though angrily. If only the Carthaki's thought breeches presentable on woman!
"Raoul!" she cried, running across the springy grass. "Raoul, what in the blazes are you doing?" The large man looked up.
"Mithros, is that you, Alanna?" he murmured, giving her a one-armed hug.
"You didn't answer my question. Why are you here, all alone?" she demanded, hugging her friend back.
"Don't worry about it. It's not your concern-well actually, it really is something you ought to be involved in, but Jon wanted to tell you himself and-" Alanna cut him off.
"Wrong answer."
Raoul sighed, and straightened his King's Own uniform. "Like I said, Jon wants to tell you himself," he said, his dark eyes serious.
"I don't want to wait, do you understand? I'm the King's Champion, not just a normal knight. I need to know, Raoul!" Alanna struggled to keep herself calm. A famed Lioness outburst would not do here and now, she thought, biting her lip.
Raoul could sense her tensing up, and gave in. "The Dominion Jewel was stolen. King Maggur managed to slip it right out from under our noses." An eerie silence hung in the air.
"He didn't!" Alanna snarled. "And we all wondered why the Scanrans gave up so quickly! Oh, poor Jon!"
"Poor us, is more like it," Raoul said glumly. "And that's not even all. The spidrens have formed an army."
"A what?" she gasped. "I had no idea they're that intelligent!" A spidren army. The very thought gave her chills. Not excited chills, the chills that came with bloodshed.
"They're not," George interjected, ambling over, frowning. "A human must be behind it. Maggur's my guess." Raoul gave George a sickly grin, and filled him in on what he had missed.
"Somethin's not right here. The Scanrans are down thousands of men; many more then us. Jon said that Maggur's losin' grip on the clans. How, how, how can they be behind it?" Alanna looked from Raoul to George, who both looked as bewildered as she.
"One thing's certain. We need to talk to Jon."
A/N: Wow, this is my first attempt at a fanfic. Tell me how you like it okay!! Pleasssssssse review!! I'm begging you! And for you Romantics out there, there may or may not be romance, I haven't decided. Probably, being a romantic myself. (hehehheh, and I have yet to join HRU....)