Chapter 17: Getting to know you.
Conrart surveyed himself in the mirror, taking in the new gray uniform. It was almost an exact replica of almost every set of Heraldic Whites he'd seen to date, the fabric was just different. He glanced down at his well worn boots, slightly uncomfortable with the fact that they were his usual brown boots. They currently had a set of gray boots being made for him, but until they were done he'd just have to wear his own. He shrugged off his feeling of ill ease and reminded himself that there were currently six other people –including Yozak – who were in the same position. Besides, why should he worry if the color of his boots was off? He had a legitimate excuse and Vanyel had reassured him time and again that Valdemar was not like the Great Demon Kingdom. Here his superiors would not tell him to do something simply to get him in trouble. After all, he had his first weapons class with Herald Alberich, and it would be easier to perform at his usual standard in his own boots.
He tugged down the hem of his shirt and squared his shoulders, allowing his habitual blank expression to mask his feelings. Closing his eyes briefly, he smiled at his reflection before picking up his sword and running himself through a set of strengthening drills designed to help him reacclimate himself to his blade. It had been years since the last time he'd been forced to run these drills, and he found himself marginally annoyed that he needed them now. However, he could not deny how much of a help they'd been in the past few days.
He began running himself through the drills as soon as Yozak had finished wrapping the hilt of his sword. Yozak had perched himself on the edge of the bed, and watched him run through the first lot, pointing out the places that illness and general weakness had loosened his defenses. He was horrified to discover that the stuff Gisela force-fed him had completely ruined his grip on the blade; his body still shook as an after-effect of the drug. Healer Dolan had assured him that the trembling in his limbs would subside, but it would take time, possibly months. He was unwilling to remain helpless until then, and had almost immediately begun the same round of exercises he designed with Yozak's help after his rather unpleasant time spent in Belar's company.
His hand still shook as he ran himself through the drills, but it was nowhere near as bad as it had once been. He sensed Yozak long before the man entered his room, and thus was unsurprised when the clash of swords filled his small room, and the shock of the impact lanced up his arm. Yozak tested his grip on the blade again and again, from every possible angle, seeking to disarm him. Conrart adjusted his grip accordingly. He was used to this, they did it often enough after one or the other had been injured, helping each other regain what had been lost. The only difference was the size of their arena. They usually just shoved aside his furniture and worked out in his living room. The room he was currently in was frankly about the size of his closet. Not that he was complaining; he wasn't like Wolfram to worry about such things, and it wasn't as if he hadn't spent time in the barracks.
That was one thing that had always annoyed him—he'd had to fight for each step, each bit of ground he'd gained, and it wasn't until he and Yozak had returned from the war, the only two survivors of their unit, that the men had started to treat him with even a semblance of respect. Wolfram often accused him of being a spoiled half-breed prince, but the truth was that he had earned every bit of the respect his men showed him, so had Yozak.
He tapped his foot against the floor twice in sharp succession, before stepping back to put some distance between the two of them. Yozak took a step back at his tapping, and the two of them lowered their swords. Yozak sheathed his blade and hung it reverently on the rack before tossing Conrart his own scabbard. He caught it, fumbling with it for a moment before he managed to get a good grip on the thing. He sheathed his blade with a bit of trouble, thanks to his trembling limbs.
Conrart groaned in annoyance at the thought of being demoted back to schoolboy, as he gathered up his books and the supplies he needed for his morning classes. He also gathered up the homework for the past week that he was to turn in to his teachers today. His handwriting had improved drastically in the past few days, but was still about as legible as it had been when he was five winters old. Hell, even in his own language his handwriting wasn't nearly as neat as it should have been.
The situation irked him.
In addition to the classes that he'd been eavesdropping on, both he and Yozak had an added class, something called 'Orientation'. He found himself both eager and apprehensive. He had an idea of what Heralds did from Vanyel, but he wanted the finer details. However at the same time, he was worried. How would these humans react to a half-breed like him? He swallowed his doubts, squared his shoulders, and raised his chin in defiance. He knew better then to show his fear.
~~~***~~~
Conrart glanced around the classroom, noting every possible entrance and exit out of long habit as he did so, before settling himself down onto an empty chair next to Yozak. He pulled out pen and paper and set about arranging his desk to his liking, noting Yozak's rolled eyes. Conrart ignored his friend; he couldn't help it if he was a neat freak! He watched quietly as the rest of the class filed in, noting faces, and identifying features of the gray, rust red, pale green, light blue and yellow clad students.
Idly he wondered if the colors bore any significance. He knew the gray did, and had a sneaking suspicion about the green clad students, but the rest was a mystery to him.
: Gray as you know is worn by the Heraldic trainees, Chosen. The Green as you guessed is the color worn by student Healers. As for the rest, Bards wear scarlet, and their trainees wear russet. The Blues are actually the 'Unaffiliates'. Mostly they are the children of the nobles; however some are here on scholarships. They're training to be scholars or artificers. You might want to watch out for them, some of them are quite nasty! As for the Yellows, that is a recent development. They are students of the Mage-circle. Like with everyone but the Grays, they are a mixed bunch. : Vanyel replied calmly, answering his unasked question.
Conrart resisted the urge to incline his head. He glanced at the door as movement caught his eye, noting the figure in white making his way to the front of the class, an enormous Wolf-like creature walking calmly at his side. :Herald Drake. : Vanyel supplied mildly. : the Kyree is called Risk. :
: What's a Kyree? : Conrart inquired of Vanyel in an unintentional broadsend.
A soft rumbling chuckle that sounded suspiciously canine drew his attention away from his Companion and back to the room at large. : I am a Kyree, young pup. : Risk replied with good humor, as he leapt easily onto Drake's desk, and flopped down lightly.
Conrart couldn't help it. He stared quite openly at the Kyree, ignoring the fact that he had called him young pup. Only years of training kept him in his seat, when Yozak poked his arm.
"Close your mouth Captain," Yozak muttered in their own language. "You don't look entirely intelligent like that. Besides, I think your tongue is getting dusty!"
He closed his mouth immediately, startled by his own lapse. Life in the court, where his actions could be used against his mother, had taught him from a very young age to keep an impassive face in all situations. The myriad of children his own age who'd seen fit to torment the 'half-breed', coupled with Stoffel breathing down his neck in regards to not disgracing the family name, and taking great pains to explain exactly what would happen to him should he ever – all that had drilled the lessons into his head until his impassive expression had become reflex.
Only Yozak had ever seen him without that mask! Others were lucky if they even caught a glimpse.
The situation unnerved him, yet with Vanyel in the back of his mind calmly reassuring him, he found himself relaxing again, feeling safe and secure in this classroom full of strangers, simply because Vanyel assured him he was. No matter what happened he had Vanyel, Just as Yozak had Jissa, and every other Herald had their Companion.
He would never be alone again, and he was content with that knowledge.
It turned out that classes for the next three weeks would cover the laws regarding the non-human sentient races that resided in Valdemar. Risk was here today as a guest lecturer, and would be explaining the laws of his own people, and the laws under which they interacted with humans. After he was done, Herald Drake would lecture on how those laws were now integrated into Valdemaran culture and the laws protecting the Kyree who chose to live there.
Conrart was completely fascinated. He must have taken at least a ream of notes on the subject.
~~~***~~~
Conrart followed Yozak calmly through the maze of halls that was the Collegium, headed for the classroom they were holding Orientation in. The penmanship tutoring he'd just escaped had been both boring and beyond frustrating. Now more than a century after the fact, he understood Yozak's frustration all those years ago when he'd been teaching the other man to read and write in Mazoku-jin. The difference was his tutor was 17 years old, and while he had been 12 at the time, he'd also been less than eight years Yozak's junior. (7 years and 8 1/2 months exactly, but who cared when you were destined to live several centuries before aging past thirty?)
He knew on an intellectual level that his tutor really wasn't that much younger then he was, if one took the fact that a human's life was lived in a heartbeat by comparison, but still, the fact that the boy was still pre-pubescent by his standards was downright galling.
Hell, he could have fathered the boy!
He was thankful for his ability to take almost everything in stride.
He glanced around the classroom; apparently they were late, everyone else was already seated. There were two boys, one of which was his age (physically at least) and one who looked to be about sixteen, assuming he was guessing correctly. The elder of the two boys sat amid the younger three girls, enjoying their rather obvious flirtatious company. The eldest of the girls, a brown haired young woman, sat in a back corner with her feet up on her desk. She turned her head and smiled coyly at Yozak. Conrart felt his friend stiffen and annoyance flared down the link between them. Beyond that, he ignored her, flopping down onto a random desk chair with as much grace as an exceedingly annoyed 6' 6'' ex-spy could manage. Only the softest brush of Yozak's mind against his own gave him warning of his friend's intentions before the other man moved.
Conrart found himself pulled deftly down until he rested lightly on his friend's lap. He shifted slightly, trying to escape the hard weapon he'd unintentionally landed on without giving away the game. He made a mental note to inform Yozak that while his knife was hidden from view it was still possible to feel the blades pommel while he rested in the man's lap.
He stiffened as Yozak's hand snaked around his waist, rubbing slightly at the hip in her line of view. He knew Yozak was simply trying to make an impression on the girl. It was his subtle way of telling her to back off, and Conrart was flattered that the other man felt secure enough in the strength of their friendship to hide behind him in such a manner. However, he'd be lying if he said it didn't make him entirely uncomfortable!
It wasn't proper!
How would the Valdemarans react? They'd have been in huge trouble if they did something so blatant in Shin Makoku! Marriage among members of the same sex was common place there, but public displays of affection like this were frowned upon by the nobility. He never cared about the differences in their ranks, and while their friendship was tolerated for the simple reason that they'd known each other since they were small children, a romantic relationship between them would be considered unseemly.
If anyone saw him actually sitting IN Yozak's LAP…. He didn't even want to think about what would happen!
At best, he'd get a reputation of being loose and Yozak would be in serious trouble. He could be dismissed or whipped or the Great One only knew what else!
Just about everyone he knew had been pressuring him to distance himself from Yozak since he hit puberty! He tried vainly to gather his straying emotions; he was scared. For the first time in 50 years he was afraid of Yozak! He hadn't been afraid of Yozak since the night the man had returned from that mission just three months after his 85th birthday. Yozak had climbed effortlessly through his bedroom window and woken him from a nightmare of remembered pain. Yozak had held him while he cried himself to sleep, and asked no further questions about the incident after he had told him he didn't want to talk about it.
The interesting thing was, before he'd been able to figure out the emotion he was feeling, Yozak had stopped rubbing his hip. Now he was just holding him. He felt Yozak shift under him, a split second before the man gently lowered him out of his lap.
The unreasonable fear vanished as soon as he was out of Yozak's lap.
It took him a moment to realize the red head had dragged the chair he was now sitting on over with his foot. The man still had a bright grin on his face, but Conrart could see the worry and the hurt in Yozak's eyes. Conrart was exceedingly frustrated with himself—he had no reason to fear Yozak. Yozak would never hurt him! Yet, after everything that had happened, he simply wasn't comfortable in the man's lap. He leaned against Yozak's arm, doing his best to shield the man from the woman eyeing them from the corner.
He didn't know why, but he wanted to wring her neck for her obvious infatuation.
He wrote the feeling off as being annoyed with her for making Yozak uncomfortable.
~~~***~~~
Yozak sighed as he set Conrart down. It was strange how the weirdest things seemed to make Conrart uncomfortable. However, he supposed that it could be due to the differences in their upbringing and ranks. It was amusing that he knew so many people who desired to belong to one of the 10 noble families, or even any of the lesser noble houses. Personally, he couldn't see the draw! It was true that the nobles had the money, the land, and the titles, but they also had all the restrictions. Honestly, the number of times he'd heard 'Conrart, that's not seemly' or 'Conrart, is that anyway for a prince to behave?' flabbergasted him. Conrart was restricted in so many ways he was not.
Particularly in regards to sex.
A noble woman had to remain pure and untouched for her husband. A noble man could sleep with any woman he chose, provided she was of lower rank, so no one could force them to marry. There were different customs regarding noblemen who preferred their own gender, but he didn't know any of them, and Conrart had never seen fit to enlighten him.
Conrart couldn't drink to get drunk. He couldn't gamble. He hadn't been allowed to climb trees after his twentieth birthday. He remembered watching the free spirited boy he'd known turn into something else entirely.
He felt Conrart calming down, and wondered at the slight feelings of jealousy and annoyance that streamed down the link they shared. He almost asked the younger man what he was thinking when Conrart leaned into him again, resting his head on his shoulder, keeping up the image Yozak had been trying to paint when he'd pulled the other man into his lap. Yozak chuckled, and carded a hand through Conrart's short hair.
"Sorry," he said in their native language after a minute. "I forgot you were a prude!"
Conrart made, what for him at least, was considered a rude noise. "Would you rather I moved?" he replied in the same tongue.
"Please don't," Yozak replied mildly, when Conrart started to pull away. "Oy, please don't make me beg Captain. That woman scares me."
Conrart chuckled, and leaned against him, looking for all the world like a shy lover. Yozak smiled and slung his arm around the younger man's slim shoulders. They whispered quietly to each other in their own language, doing their best to appear like lovers sharing sweet words, pitching their voices so that they sounded husky and low, or light and breathy, like they were exchanging sweet nothings. In reality they were arguing about archery. Conrart was a fan of the recurved long bow while he preferred the crossbow. They didn't surface from what was actually a very heated debate until Herald Dirk entered the classroom and sat himself lightly on top of his desk.
~~~***~~~
Herald Dirk sighed as he entered his classroom; he was having an . . . interesting morning. His son had recently hit the 'you can't tell me what to do' phase and he was seriously tempted to tie the boy to a chair!
But that would be unheraldic.
He took in the room at large, noting the way his class currently sat. They were all older than the average newly Chosen. I'Ryn sat off in a corner by herself, glaring daggers at the back of Conrart's head. Austin, Sandra, Victoria, and Valentin looked like a group of social butterflies. Justin sat near them, but had somehow managed to remain aloof. Yozak sat with his arm slung around Conrart's shoulder, rubbing small circles on the younger man's arm.
"Well," he said simply, shifting around on his desk until he sat cross-legged. "I guess I should introduce you all."
"Everyone, this is Conrart." He said lightly, gesturing at the boy. "Conrart, the brown haired woman in the back is I'Ryn."
Conrart turned his head and gazed at the woman, before inclining his head respectfully. "A pleasure to meet you, my lady," He said calmly, his voice mild.
"And you, youngling." I'Ryn retorted.
Conrart simply shrugged and turned back around.
Dirk gave the young woman a stern look, before getting back to the matter at hand. "Moving on; the young boy with the black hair is Justin."
Again, Conrart inclined his head, and uttered a polite overture. Justin looked notably startled. The boy had been among the servants of a visiting minor noble family from the outskirts of southern Valdemar. While Heralds had always acknowledged the existence and worth of the hired help, most people did not. It had to be a bit of an adjustment for him, going from invisible to fire-starter.
The boy inclined his head briefly, stammering out a reply, his brown eyes lit with surprise.
Dirk smiled. He didn't think Austin, with his highborn sensibilities, would be a good influence on the Justin, but perhaps Conrart would be a suitable role model for them both. He only wondered if Austin would allow himself to be influenced by a lesser noble, which Conrart obviously was. Austin spent a lot of time reminding them that his father was the King of Jkatha's little brother. So unless Conrart was a Duke or a prince of his own land, there was no way the boy outranked Austin. In a way, it was too bad, if Austin could see a member of the higher nobility act with such grace and humility, perhaps it would help curb the youth's attitude.
Honestly, he didn't see why the boy had been Chosen; he was not one he would have pegged as the Heraldic type. He however was not a Companion, and knew better than to question the judgments of one.
Realizing that he'd been quiet for too long, he smiled and moved on. "The strawberry blond haired twins are Victoria and Valentin, or Tory and Val. Tory is the one with the more reddish hair, and Val is the one who's almost blonde." He paused long enough for Conrart to politely exchange pleasantries with the twins before moving on. "Sandra is the black haired lass." Again, he paused for Conrart to be polite, before adding, "And the dirty blonde haired young man sitting with them is Austin."
Before Conrart could say a word to that, Austin spoke up, his voice haughty, "That's Lord Austin, if you please! My father is Jkatha's King's little brother, and I'll not have commoners address me by name. Such a thing would be completely unbecoming of my rank. And pray, good sir, that you remember your manners and bow."
Conrart's reply truly startled Dirk.
"I see no nobility in this room," the young man said simply. "If what Vanyel tells me is true, all nobility with the exception of the last heir must renounce their titles in order to be here. As you are still here young man, it is plain those titles bestowed upon you at birth are no longer yours."
Dirk suppressed the urge to laugh at the thunderstruck expression on the young man's face. He was definitely telling Talia about this when he got home. She could always use a good laugh.
He took a moment to gather his composure before simply asking, "From the looks of it, you already know Yozak, but do you wish an introduction?"
Conrart blinked, "No, thank you, that won't be necessary."
"I should hope not, Taisa. We've known each other since we were pre-pubescent!" Yozak piped up beside him.
Dirk noticed I'Ryn's glare increase tenfold at the use of what was obviously a pet name. He quickly decided to move on with the class. "So, who can tell me what a Herald actually does?"
A.N.
See you next week.