I finally have the third chapter up! Now it'll only take me until I graduate from college to finish the fourth chapter! No, seriously, I've already started the fourth chapter, and I've resolved to be more punctual with installments henceforth.
Once again, I only had enough talent to create Sophia. The rest of the characters belong completely to Tamora Pierce.
For those of you who commented on the huge paragraphs of the last chapter, I spaced this one out for you.
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"The weather is just too miserable to be bearable for this time of year," grumbled Raoul of Goldenlake, Commander of the King's Own, looking out of his rain-streaked window at the practice courts. They were nothing more than mud pits now. Dom started. "I'm sorry, sir, what did you say?"
He had been thinking about his evening plans. He was supposed to meet Lady Sophia of The Glen at a small eating house in the heart of Corus, and he was a little apprehensive about the whole thing. He had been contemplating what to wear.
"What's wrong with you, Masbolle?" Raoul barked, in a rare moment of gruffness towards his favorite sergeant.
"I don't know, sir. I'll try to pay closer attention from now on," Dom answered obediently, standing before the commander's desk, head bowed. Actually, he wasn't planning on paying closer attention at all. He just didn't plan on getting caught inattentive again.
This would be the third time he would see Sophia since the banquet where they had met. Several days after the banquet, he had escorted her to another party, a private affair thrown by Sir Gareth (the Younger) of Naxen and his wife, Cythera, at their large house in Corus. A week later, they had gone riding. When they were together, they talked and laughed like friends, and in spite of Dom's greatest flirtatious efforts, Sophia remained coolly ladylike and platonically friendly, and seemed to have forgotten their kiss under the stars.
Raoul's words called him back to the present with a snap. "I know you're a young man, in your prime and sick of being cooped up all winter and spring. So I have an assignment for you," He said briskly, arranging the papers on his desk into a neat stack. "There's a group of bandits that has been attacking and pillaging small villages on the Northeast edge of the royal forest. I'm sending you, in command of several Own troops, to rid the area of bandits."
Dom felt shocked, but also invigorated. He hadn't been expecting an assignment for several months. When an assignment did come, he had expected it to involve most of the own, not just himself and several troops. But his blood rose at the prospect of a mission, some real soldiering and warfare to be done, even if it was only against a measly troop of bandits.
As though reading his thoughts, Raoul slapped down the stack of papers onto the desk, and stared over his reading spectacles gravely.
"This isn't an easy assignment, though it may sound like it. This bandit troop has gotten extremely large. So large, in fact, that they have three base camps. All together, they measure at least 400, maybe more."
He continued, as though he knew that Dom wouldn't like what he was going to say next. "It won't just be you and your men. A Queen's Riders' sergeant will lead the entire force, which will be made up of four Own troops and four Rider troops. You will answer to this sergeant."
Dom protested, without even thinking. "Sir, surely we can do this with Own troops alone. We don't need Riders."
"Don't be a damn fool, Masbolle," Raoul said sharply, hands suddenly clenched fists resting on his desk. "They're skilled in keeping quiet, in camouflage, in subtlety, and they have small, nimble ponies. We're loud, flashy, and not particularly good at surprise attacks. We do have strong mounts and strong hand-to-hand combat skills. To pull this off, Own troops and Riders need to work together, to form a plan that uses both strengths."
"And who is this sergeant who I will take orders from, sir?" Dom asked, grudging but accepting.
"You will see soon. They are supposed to arrive any minute now," Raoul answered.
Dom took a seat in front of the desk, and looked agitatedly around his commander's office as he pondered this turn of events. It would be nice to get out of Corus, and do what the Own had trained him to do. But why did he have to answer to a member of the Queen's Riders? Secretly, Dom considered the Rider's weak, unskilled at true warfare. It was insulting to be commanded by one.
The office door opened, and both Raoul and Dom stood, as Commander Buri entered the room. She wore her dark hair braided tightly and wound around the back of her head. She was in uniform, the brown and red breeches and tunic of the Riders, and she nodded smartly at both of them as she entered briskly.
And behind her, someone else entered. A woman, much taller than Buri, in full Rider uniform, and red stripes on her arms to indicate that she was a sergeant. She had honey-blond hair braided down her back, bright blue eyes, and creamy skin, dusted with freckles. Sophia of The Glen, Sergeant of Troop 17 of the Queen's Riders.
Dom Gaped. He couldn't help it. And she looked equally surprised. So this is who would be commanding him. Dom wasn't sure whether he should laugh or moan. Numbly, he shook hands with both Buri and Sophia, as courtesy dictated, and mumbled the appropriate phrases of greeting.
Raoul was completely unaware of the difficulty of the situation. He uttered the words Dom had been praying would not be said: "Sergeant Domitan, This is Sergeant Sophia. She will your commander while you are on this mission. I hope you two will prove to be good strategists together."
Dom smiled ironically at Sophia, and said wryly, "Maybe we could discuss this over a meal, Commander? I know of a good eating house in the center of Corus. "