About a year from their earliest drills and six months since theyād discovered a refugee from Tevinter out on the Coast, the Lions were really beginning to look like a fully-fledged mercenary company. Actually, that might be something of an understatement. They were more cohesive and regimented than any merc company Lucien had ever come across, and more skilled as individuals than most of those heād run into in the business. They were more an army than anything, but to call them so implied both a size and a regimentation they did not have. Heād built them, as carefully and meticulously as he could, to be a hybrid between the two things, the best of both. He wanted them as disciplined as any chevalier, and as well-trained, both as a team and by themselves, but he also wanted them able to make independent decisions in the heat of the moment when that became necessary, respectful of the rank structure heād instituted, but not wedded to it. Flexible, adaptable, strong, and more than anything else, trustworthy. To do the jobs they were given and do them the right way.
Watching them now, he believed they would one day be all of those things. Perhaps a day sooner than he had initially anticipated. He believed he could have them taking full contracts within a couple of months, and send them out without him by the end of the year. It brought a smile to his face, leaning down to brace his forearms on the rail of the fence and watch them drill. Even at the height of summer, drenched in sweat and doubtless quite hopeful that respite would come sooner rather than later, they worked and did not waver.
Havard was leading the drills today, barking out instructions in his rather strident fashion. Lucien appreciated this tooāthat all of them retained their unique personality traits, the wealth of their experience from before they were Lions, and found ways to meld these things harmoniously. The company was better for it, and he certainly couldnāt take the credit. That was all them, and he was glad of it.
Raising one of his hands to his jaw, he absently rubbed at it as he watched their forms. All were making excellent progress, but he was proud of none so much as the young ones. Cor was, as promised, swiftly filling out his now six-foot frame, and Lucien was taking care of much of the ladās specialty training himself, as he had a good mix of traits for longswords and greataxes. Donnelly was making an excellent marksman. Tessa was going to be his lead scout for the foreseeable future, though she claimed to like the hand-to-hand Amalia occasionally taught more even than the hunting skills she grew up with. Well, there was nothing wrong with that. Idris would always be a large man and a medic, but he had better throwing accuracy than any of the others, so even he was far from without defense.
Estella was an interesting case. She had remained at the barracks for weeks after she was found, long past the time she needed for a clean bill of health from Nostariel. Coaxing her into drilling with the others had proven to be a slow process, and when she did pick up a practice sword, it was clear that sheād never held one in her life. She was no natural talent, either, but the others were tolerant and understandingāand slowly, he watched her change. While her first practice had ended with her telling him she would never succeed in the slightest, heād asked her to keep at it, and, perhaps out of some misplaced sense of owing him, she had.
Eventually, heād begun to catch her practicing by herself at night. It was helping, but what he thought she really needed was individual attention, more than he or any of the others could give her. But he knew someone who might be able to help, and so to that end, heād asked Rilien to meet him here this afternoon, to see if perhaps he might be willing.
At the appointed time, Rilien did indeed appear at the barracks, gliding in that peculiar way of his to a stop beside Lucien, electing to fold his hands into his silk sleeves rather than lean against the wooden fence as the chevalier was doing. He observed the drills with the practiced eye of someone who had also been trained to fight, though not in the way of a soldier. They were exceptional, considering the short amount of time they had been learningāor in some cases, relearning. That was often more difficult.
āYou wished to see me about something.ā As usual, it was not a question. Rilien had his suspicions, of course, that it had something to do with what he was looking at. Lucien was a more deliberate man than most people gave him credit for. He may not like it or embrace it, but he had been raised to play the Game just like any highborn Orlesian, and one had to be especially good at it to be able to get away with disdaining it, in point of fact.
āSo I did,ā Lucien replied, smiling slightly over at his friend. Rilien dressed so well that heād never really look like he belonged in a ring made of dirt, but it was precisely the apparent civility and gentility of him that was his most dangerous characteristic. Well, after his mind, perhaps. And it was, in part, that calculative rationality he was going to need.
āWould you tell me, what you think of them?ā
Rilien assumed Lucien did not really need him to comment on the general strengths of his company. Those he would know quite well. Nor was he especially in need of the critique another soldier would give. So he looked at them as a bard would, an assassin, and someone who used weapons these people generally would not, tactics they would find beneath their morals. Even then, their deficiencies were few. Lucien had obviously accounted for how stealthy fighters and mages both would behave, evident when they moved into a different set of drills. The Tranquil cocked his head to the side.
āUnprotected side.ā He started at the far end of the line and moved towards the side on which they were standing. āToo slow, probably from fatigue. Needs more endurance training. The next one has the opposite problemāhe needs to be more aggressive.ā He proceeded down the line until he reached the young woman at the end of it, currently shield drilling against a dwarf. His eyes narrowed.
āThat one is not suited for shields.ā She was also, he could sense, a mage, so why she was bothering to train in these things at all, he did not know. āShe knows the forms, but lacks the confidence to implement them properly.ā
Lucien huffed a breath through his nose, amused. Rilienās blunt honesty was perhaps something that not everyone could appreciate, but he certainly did. And he thought there might be others who could benefit from it as well. He had noticed that any attempt to compliment or praise Estella in any way was immediately rebuffed, if not verbally than in her body language, and he recalled what Nostariel had told him of their initial conversationāshe seemed inclined to look for ulterior motives in everything. He couldn't blame her, since heād been the same, once. But if there was one person who would obviously never say something for the sake of being kind or making someone feel better, it was Rilien.
And perhaps that assurance, that he had no reason to lie or coddle, was exactly the kind of thing that Estella needed right now.
āYouāre right,ā Lucien admitted. āAnd thatās the reason Iāve asked you here. If youāre willing, I would like you to teach her. Sheās just going to learn more from you than from me, and I think youāll be better for her at this point than any of the rest of us will.ā He might have asked Amalia, but she was doing more than enough for him already, leading drills and providing basic hand-to-hand instruction at least once a week as she did. He was going to start paying her for it, if he could figure out a way to make her accept it. Rilien would have no issues with that. He knew exactly how valuable his skills and services were.
āI know it isnāt something you usually do, but I wouldnāt ask if I didnāt think sheād make you a good student, as well. It will take time, but I think youāll both gain something from this.ā
Rilien considered it for several minutes, still watching the mercenaries practice. He knew quite well that he did not have the proper demeanor for teaching, not like Lucien had. It was true that he was patient, but he also lacked compassion, something he was well-aware of, and he was far from what anyone would describe as warm or amiable or approachable. But it seemed that Lucien had given this considerable thought, and he was clearly not unaware of these facts. Indeed, it seemed to be because of them that he was asking.
There was also, of course, the matter of his shop, as this exercise would doubtless take time out of his shop hours nearly daily if he agreed to it. That by itself was not especially problematicāof late, he had been letting Sandal do most of the orders, anyway, because if the boy was to be successful in the future, he would need to have a base of customers, all of whom would be able to spread word of his work. So Rilien himself had less to do anyway.
In the end, he could not think of any overriding reason not to agree to what Lucien was asking, and the fact that it was Lucien who asked led him to believe that there was at least something worthy in making the attempt, even if Rilien himself was not precisely sure what it was. āVery well. If she agrees, tell her we will begin tomorrow. Not hereāon Sundermont.ā
āNo need,ā Lucien said, smiling broadly. āYou can tell her yourself.ā Rising a hand, he made a beckoning motion with it. āEstella! A moment, if you will.ā The girlās attention snapped to him, her eyes flickering over the odd-looking man standing next to the commander, until they alighted on the sunburst lyrium brand on his forehead. Sheād heard by now that Lucien was friends with a Tranquil, but sheād never seen him herself. He wasā¦ not quite what she was expecting. Most Tranquil were quite simple and utilitarian in both heir appearance and their manner of dress. This one lookedā¦ almost flamboyant. Certainly, someone of expensive and impeccable taste had selected his garments.
She approached carefully, her practice sword still held loosely in one hand, though sheād added the shield to the pile of them at first opportunity. She really wasnāt fond, even if Havard did swear by them. She came to a neat stop a full three feet from Lucien and his strange acquaintance, her eyes wary, almost as though she were expecting to be chastised for something. And perhaps she was.
āCommander?ā She was uncertain what to do here. Should she address the person she didnāt know or ignore him until introduced? Did the fact that he was Tranquil make any difference? They were practically anathema in the Imperium, though they did exist, and the Chantry did employ a few, she just rarely had to interact with them. āIs there something I can do for you?ā
Lucien took mercy on her obvious confusion. āEstella, this is Rilien Falavel. Heās a friend of mine, and an excellent combatant, among other things. Rilien, this is Estella, one of my recruits.ā As she had still declined to give a surname or any specific information about where sheād come from, he included none of what heād guessed in his introduction. Rilien only inclined his head, seeing no need to embellish his own any further.
āIāve just finished speaking with Ril here, and Iād like to propose something.ā Her confusion persisted, and he noted that a slight flicker of fear entered her expression for just a moment, and her gaze moved back to the brand on his friendās brow. Did she really thinkā¦? He hastened to reach the end of his explanation. āI think you could benefit from learning to approach combat the way Rilien does, and heās agreed to spend the time to teach you, if youāre amenable to the suggestion.ā
The line of Estellaās shoulders eased somewhat, and this time, she met the elfās eyes directly. āAnd how is that?ā she inquired, her tone lacking the accusation Lucien had been concerned it might carry.
Rilien lifted on shoulder in something like a shrug. āSharp things. No shields. Quickness, precision, subtlety. I was once a Bard, but you need not learn to sing, if you do not wish.ā Lucien would probably recognize the joke, accustomed to his strange mannerisms as he was, but he did not expect the girl to. Fortunate that he also meant that literally, then.
Lucien did indeed smile, but to his surprise, it was Estella who laughed, just a quick burst of amusement, soft and more a snort than anything, but it was accompanied by a bigger smile than the chevalier had yet seen on her face. Dry humor, as it happened, she was quite used to.
āSo what youāre saying is that itās an option?ā The smile faded a little, but she nodded. āI thinkā¦ yeah. I think Iād like that. Sharp things, and no shields, andā¦ the rest of it, too. Thank you.ā
āDo not thank me yet.ā
Watching them now, he believed they would one day be all of those things. Perhaps a day sooner than he had initially anticipated. He believed he could have them taking full contracts within a couple of months, and send them out without him by the end of the year. It brought a smile to his face, leaning down to brace his forearms on the rail of the fence and watch them drill. Even at the height of summer, drenched in sweat and doubtless quite hopeful that respite would come sooner rather than later, they worked and did not waver.
Havard was leading the drills today, barking out instructions in his rather strident fashion. Lucien appreciated this tooāthat all of them retained their unique personality traits, the wealth of their experience from before they were Lions, and found ways to meld these things harmoniously. The company was better for it, and he certainly couldnāt take the credit. That was all them, and he was glad of it.
Raising one of his hands to his jaw, he absently rubbed at it as he watched their forms. All were making excellent progress, but he was proud of none so much as the young ones. Cor was, as promised, swiftly filling out his now six-foot frame, and Lucien was taking care of much of the ladās specialty training himself, as he had a good mix of traits for longswords and greataxes. Donnelly was making an excellent marksman. Tessa was going to be his lead scout for the foreseeable future, though she claimed to like the hand-to-hand Amalia occasionally taught more even than the hunting skills she grew up with. Well, there was nothing wrong with that. Idris would always be a large man and a medic, but he had better throwing accuracy than any of the others, so even he was far from without defense.
Estella was an interesting case. She had remained at the barracks for weeks after she was found, long past the time she needed for a clean bill of health from Nostariel. Coaxing her into drilling with the others had proven to be a slow process, and when she did pick up a practice sword, it was clear that sheād never held one in her life. She was no natural talent, either, but the others were tolerant and understandingāand slowly, he watched her change. While her first practice had ended with her telling him she would never succeed in the slightest, heād asked her to keep at it, and, perhaps out of some misplaced sense of owing him, she had.
Eventually, heād begun to catch her practicing by herself at night. It was helping, but what he thought she really needed was individual attention, more than he or any of the others could give her. But he knew someone who might be able to help, and so to that end, heād asked Rilien to meet him here this afternoon, to see if perhaps he might be willing.
At the appointed time, Rilien did indeed appear at the barracks, gliding in that peculiar way of his to a stop beside Lucien, electing to fold his hands into his silk sleeves rather than lean against the wooden fence as the chevalier was doing. He observed the drills with the practiced eye of someone who had also been trained to fight, though not in the way of a soldier. They were exceptional, considering the short amount of time they had been learningāor in some cases, relearning. That was often more difficult.
āYou wished to see me about something.ā As usual, it was not a question. Rilien had his suspicions, of course, that it had something to do with what he was looking at. Lucien was a more deliberate man than most people gave him credit for. He may not like it or embrace it, but he had been raised to play the Game just like any highborn Orlesian, and one had to be especially good at it to be able to get away with disdaining it, in point of fact.
āSo I did,ā Lucien replied, smiling slightly over at his friend. Rilien dressed so well that heād never really look like he belonged in a ring made of dirt, but it was precisely the apparent civility and gentility of him that was his most dangerous characteristic. Well, after his mind, perhaps. And it was, in part, that calculative rationality he was going to need.
āWould you tell me, what you think of them?ā
Rilien assumed Lucien did not really need him to comment on the general strengths of his company. Those he would know quite well. Nor was he especially in need of the critique another soldier would give. So he looked at them as a bard would, an assassin, and someone who used weapons these people generally would not, tactics they would find beneath their morals. Even then, their deficiencies were few. Lucien had obviously accounted for how stealthy fighters and mages both would behave, evident when they moved into a different set of drills. The Tranquil cocked his head to the side.
āUnprotected side.ā He started at the far end of the line and moved towards the side on which they were standing. āToo slow, probably from fatigue. Needs more endurance training. The next one has the opposite problemāhe needs to be more aggressive.ā He proceeded down the line until he reached the young woman at the end of it, currently shield drilling against a dwarf. His eyes narrowed.
āThat one is not suited for shields.ā She was also, he could sense, a mage, so why she was bothering to train in these things at all, he did not know. āShe knows the forms, but lacks the confidence to implement them properly.ā
Lucien huffed a breath through his nose, amused. Rilienās blunt honesty was perhaps something that not everyone could appreciate, but he certainly did. And he thought there might be others who could benefit from it as well. He had noticed that any attempt to compliment or praise Estella in any way was immediately rebuffed, if not verbally than in her body language, and he recalled what Nostariel had told him of their initial conversationāshe seemed inclined to look for ulterior motives in everything. He couldn't blame her, since heād been the same, once. But if there was one person who would obviously never say something for the sake of being kind or making someone feel better, it was Rilien.
And perhaps that assurance, that he had no reason to lie or coddle, was exactly the kind of thing that Estella needed right now.
āYouāre right,ā Lucien admitted. āAnd thatās the reason Iāve asked you here. If youāre willing, I would like you to teach her. Sheās just going to learn more from you than from me, and I think youāll be better for her at this point than any of the rest of us will.ā He might have asked Amalia, but she was doing more than enough for him already, leading drills and providing basic hand-to-hand instruction at least once a week as she did. He was going to start paying her for it, if he could figure out a way to make her accept it. Rilien would have no issues with that. He knew exactly how valuable his skills and services were.
āI know it isnāt something you usually do, but I wouldnāt ask if I didnāt think sheād make you a good student, as well. It will take time, but I think youāll both gain something from this.ā
Rilien considered it for several minutes, still watching the mercenaries practice. He knew quite well that he did not have the proper demeanor for teaching, not like Lucien had. It was true that he was patient, but he also lacked compassion, something he was well-aware of, and he was far from what anyone would describe as warm or amiable or approachable. But it seemed that Lucien had given this considerable thought, and he was clearly not unaware of these facts. Indeed, it seemed to be because of them that he was asking.
There was also, of course, the matter of his shop, as this exercise would doubtless take time out of his shop hours nearly daily if he agreed to it. That by itself was not especially problematicāof late, he had been letting Sandal do most of the orders, anyway, because if the boy was to be successful in the future, he would need to have a base of customers, all of whom would be able to spread word of his work. So Rilien himself had less to do anyway.
In the end, he could not think of any overriding reason not to agree to what Lucien was asking, and the fact that it was Lucien who asked led him to believe that there was at least something worthy in making the attempt, even if Rilien himself was not precisely sure what it was. āVery well. If she agrees, tell her we will begin tomorrow. Not hereāon Sundermont.ā
āNo need,ā Lucien said, smiling broadly. āYou can tell her yourself.ā Rising a hand, he made a beckoning motion with it. āEstella! A moment, if you will.ā The girlās attention snapped to him, her eyes flickering over the odd-looking man standing next to the commander, until they alighted on the sunburst lyrium brand on his forehead. Sheād heard by now that Lucien was friends with a Tranquil, but sheād never seen him herself. He wasā¦ not quite what she was expecting. Most Tranquil were quite simple and utilitarian in both heir appearance and their manner of dress. This one lookedā¦ almost flamboyant. Certainly, someone of expensive and impeccable taste had selected his garments.
She approached carefully, her practice sword still held loosely in one hand, though sheād added the shield to the pile of them at first opportunity. She really wasnāt fond, even if Havard did swear by them. She came to a neat stop a full three feet from Lucien and his strange acquaintance, her eyes wary, almost as though she were expecting to be chastised for something. And perhaps she was.
āCommander?ā She was uncertain what to do here. Should she address the person she didnāt know or ignore him until introduced? Did the fact that he was Tranquil make any difference? They were practically anathema in the Imperium, though they did exist, and the Chantry did employ a few, she just rarely had to interact with them. āIs there something I can do for you?ā
Lucien took mercy on her obvious confusion. āEstella, this is Rilien Falavel. Heās a friend of mine, and an excellent combatant, among other things. Rilien, this is Estella, one of my recruits.ā As she had still declined to give a surname or any specific information about where sheād come from, he included none of what heād guessed in his introduction. Rilien only inclined his head, seeing no need to embellish his own any further.
āIāve just finished speaking with Ril here, and Iād like to propose something.ā Her confusion persisted, and he noted that a slight flicker of fear entered her expression for just a moment, and her gaze moved back to the brand on his friendās brow. Did she really thinkā¦? He hastened to reach the end of his explanation. āI think you could benefit from learning to approach combat the way Rilien does, and heās agreed to spend the time to teach you, if youāre amenable to the suggestion.ā
The line of Estellaās shoulders eased somewhat, and this time, she met the elfās eyes directly. āAnd how is that?ā she inquired, her tone lacking the accusation Lucien had been concerned it might carry.
Rilien lifted on shoulder in something like a shrug. āSharp things. No shields. Quickness, precision, subtlety. I was once a Bard, but you need not learn to sing, if you do not wish.ā Lucien would probably recognize the joke, accustomed to his strange mannerisms as he was, but he did not expect the girl to. Fortunate that he also meant that literally, then.
Lucien did indeed smile, but to his surprise, it was Estella who laughed, just a quick burst of amusement, soft and more a snort than anything, but it was accompanied by a bigger smile than the chevalier had yet seen on her face. Dry humor, as it happened, she was quite used to.
āSo what youāre saying is that itās an option?ā The smile faded a little, but she nodded. āI thinkā¦ yeah. I think Iād like that. Sharp things, and no shields, andā¦ the rest of it, too. Thank you.ā
āDo not thank me yet.ā