A clang reverberated through the still air.
The knight turned on her feet, parrying a clawed strike.
Another clash rang in the quiet gardens.
The mantis yelped as her slim figure was smacked by the broad edge of the knight's nail. Her body tumbled against the ground, coming to rest at the feet of a fallen comrade.
The pale insect exhaled once, a small bead of moisture forming at the base of her three long horns. This had been quite the formidable warm-up.
Her eyes darted to the side.
She could hear the subtle rustling of leaves. From the darkness of the shrub came the faint, low hiss of another. There was still one left.
On a dime did she turn, her feet swiveling her guard around. The blurred figure of the mantis lunged forward, their serrated claws catching the long, white nail of their adversary. The sharp, piercing screech of metal scratching toned claw tore amid the lush vegetation.
Fierce Dryya, personal guard and protector of the Queen, grimaced at the feral snarl of the Traitor Lord.
He pressed on his forearms, forcing a wobble from the knight. With newfound space, the mantis stepped back, leaping brilliantly into the air. His figure twirled with a spiral grace, propelling him towards his foe with incredible pace.
Dryya grunted. Her nail snagged one of the encroaching claws, sparing her from the full inertia of his mass. The mantis struggled, jerking his barbed appendage. Yet, a small grin had formed under his chin.
Opposite raptorial free, the mantis struck at the pale pauldrons of the knight. A stinging blow landed, eliciting a wince from the queen's guard. Another flick of his claw, and it scraped against her dress-like shell. The Traitor Lord's barrage only increased; her time was running out.
With a well-timed flick of her handle, her edge of her blade twisted to block a strike, sparing her from another tearing cut. Once more did they press face to face, the rumbling hiss of the mantis reverberating against her thin, pale form. He shoved closer, pressuring the knight into a slowly collapsing backfoot. The bead of moisture had become several droplets, lining the strained brow on her face.
But she found an opening.
Too enraptured with intimidation, the Traitor Lord's proximity left himself vulnerable. The fierce knight threw her head forth. A loud crack rang from the smack of horns. Debilitated, the grip of his claws weakened against her nail. A close quarters shoulder bash from Dryya, and she was granted with the space she so desperately needed.
The knight swung her nail at the base of the discombobulated male's leg. He wobbled briefly, before falling to the soft, grassy ground.
Dryya pointed the nail down to the Traitor Lord's chin, glaring harshly at the intruder.
In an instant, the battle was over.
Quiet returned to the Queen's Gardens, the duo panting heavily in their stare down.
"So much for a nailfighter," grumbled the Lord, nudging the tip of the blade with his claw.
A scoff was caught in her throat.
"What did you expect?"
Dryya returned her blade to her side, offering a hand to the other. The Mantis Lord rolled his eyes, propping himself up by his own arms.
He grunted as he rose, frantically fixing the erratic folds and fringes of his cloak. He let out a deep exhale, turning to see the several limp figures behind him. One was quietly groaning, another muttering to themselves.
"Five of you against one, and you still managed to fail?" the Lord voiced out, scolding his followers.
"Forgive us, my Lord," spoke the last-felled warrior, her head raising up, "we still require more of your training!"
"You know," the pale knight interjected, "teaching them your exact same moves makes them kind of predictable, hm?"
"Quiet you—" the Mantis Lord muttered, walking over to help one of his fallen fighters. They thanked him, and with the help of another, began to hobble away from the verdant room.
Ensuring his warriors had left the vicinity, the mantis sighed, sitting down against the lush verdure. The knight moved closer, coming to a seat next to the tired lord.
"You did quite well, as did your kinsmen. Don't berate them too much now," she voiced, a pleasant, caring calm to her tone.
"I know," he responded, breathing softly, "still though."
"Practice, as per usual. You're one lord, not four," she quipped, drawing a small huff from the mantis.
Dryya allowed her fatigued legs to extend in a stretch. She sank back, hands helping prop her figure up. The Mantis Lord fidgeted with his claws above his slender abdomen, eyes kept down to his crossed legs.
"…speaking of which, how much longer do you plan on remaining?" Dryya continued quietly.
"Excuse me?" the mantis replied, eyes furrowing as he glanced towards his right.
"You know what I mean," she mumbled back, "you have to settle things with your sisters inevitably, Four."
The lord groaned, shoving his face between his claws.
"Please do not call me that," he mumbled.
"It's your name," she chuckled, her horns lowering back, "and it's above and beyond better than 'Traitor Lord' or whatever petty stuff you lords have come up with."
"Alright, whatever," he grumbled, dismissing the notion with a wave of his claw. "And you know quite well we're here for other, more serious matters too."
"Right," she sarcastically remarked. "You do know, Lord, that you aren't really 'taking vengeance' on the Pale Court when the Queen has made it evidently clear your presence is not a burden."
The Fourth tut-tutted in dissent at her remark.
"In fact," she continued, glancing his way, "if rumors are to be believed, one could say you have enjoyed each other's company quite…well."
The Lord jerked his head her way, brows furrowing.
"For a fiery xenophobe, you seem to partake in rather xenophilic actions," she snickered.
"Dryya! —" he hissed, one of his claws hooking onto her arm. His head swiveled side to side, anxiously searching for any eavesdroppers. It seemed, thankfully for his sake, they were quite alone.
"Relax, Four, as much a knight I am, I too like to jest."
The Mantis Lord sighed, drawing his claw back to his forehead to wipe off the stray moisture. He sank to his elbows, a pouting, bitter look marking his face.
"I understand your apprehension to outsiders—especially to the king. But why this charade?" she asked with a tone of genuine curiosity.
"It's not a charade," he lied. "I genuinely abhor all outsiders. You most of all," he muttered, lifting his claw to jab at her side.
An amiable giggle was shared, dying slowly. The faint hum of the gardens returned between them. Again, the Mantis Lord fretted with his claws.
"I'm a victim of my vice," the Lord sighed, words of sincerity shared with the other. "I am a bitter bug, I admit. I proclaim one thing in anger, and yet I do another. I should be violently livid with the Queen, and, truthfully, with you too."
His head tilted back, taking pause. He admired the ivy—how it could cling to any surface with unparalleled strength.
"But Dryya, I am weak. My sisters know it. You know it."
Another break in their conversation. She could hear the distant, sweet cricket of a small bug.
"Maybe that is why I am always mad," he shrugged. "Mad because I am not strong enough. A Lord unable to serve his people, do you understand?" His black leg shifted against the grass, tugging against a long blade.
"That's why I get upset with Kune, when she goes out with that…other knight of yours," he irritably muttered. "We mantids—we have strength in our unity. The outside proliferates only weakness. I do not want to see her lose that unity with her people. I do not want to see her become like me."
Dryya remained quiet. She had obvious objections to his characterization of Ze'mer and knew his child would be safe with the silverfish. But she understood his conflict. She had seen it with others close to her—Ogrim most of all. She had suffered it too. How often did she feel herself inadequate to serve her loving queen?
"Four," she spoke, placing her white palm on his shoulder, "you aren't weak. And you still serve your people. Look how many were willing to follow you. Willing to die for you. A minor spat is nothing."
She rubbed gently against his arm and brushed away a few sprigs of grass missed by the mantis.
"And you are a great father. I know Kune looks up to you, even if your sisters look down."
A heartfelt smile touched his ventral lips.
A distant rustling caught the duo's attention. Something had entered the far side of the overgrown cavern.
"Dryya?" a voice beckoned, "Are you there? I passed some awfully disheveled—oh!"
The pale, soft glow of the White Lady emerged before the two, vines reeling back before the Root's majesty. Her guard leapt to her feet, bowing before the grandeur of her queen. The Mantis Lord grimaced at the display, begrudgingly pulling his body upright.
"Pardon me so! I wish not to interrupt," the Queen giggled. "I knew not that you were acquainted with my former bedfellow."
Struggling to maintain composure, Dryya snorted, withholding a violent burst of laughter.
The face of the Mantis Lord flushed with a red hue as a scowl burned on his face, a claw placed before his head to hide his complexion.
"No need for formalities, my dear Dryya. Merely a request for tea. In the lower section, at the greenhouse. I implore you to join. With our friend here, too. The aluba are quite lovely!"
The White Lady graciously turned around, the lush corridor opening to accommodate her. Dryya, quick to accompany her queen, turned to face the other. Though still apprehensive, with that sour look on his face, the knight flicked her head forward to encourage on. With muted reluctance, the mantis shuffled over to join the entourage.
