1867-01-18: A Pointed Conversation
A Pointed Conversation
Summary: Clara and her Royal Lancer bodyguard Alaina have a conversation while the knight teaches her charge how to use a (short) sword
Date: 01-18-1867
Related: None
Clara  Alaina  

“Must I wear this heavy maile armor?” The links rustle as the Rivanan princess shifts her weight, the jingling sound clearly audible within the training yard. “You know I have my own set of leather armor, right? Lighter than this…and definitely quieter.” Clara sighs softly as she circles around her protector and trainer, for the moment, holding a practice short sword in one hand. “I feel like a plodding buffoon in this thing, Alaina. A loud plodding buffoon. However do you manage to tolerate all that jangling and clanging with that armor of yours, much less move as quickly as you do?” The question is half jest and half serious, with a dash of petulant teenage angst thrown in for flavour. “This just slows me down….”

“That’s the point.” Sir Alaina Cassomir, Clara’s personal Royal Lancer guard, steps in, swinging her own practice sword…a longsword from the looks of it…towards Clara, who manages to just barely deflect the blow away with her shortsword. The two have been going at it for a while, all part of Clara’s request to learn how to use a bladed weapon. And…if it wasn’t for Clara’s complaint about the armor being only the third time during the training session, Alaina might have been surprised. As it is…the reply is respectful, but definitely practiced. “Your Highness, we already discussed this. You asked me to teach you how to use an edged weapon…we do it my way. The armor will protect you and provide a good resistance. You get up to speed swinging that weighted sword with the armor on, then imagine how fast you will be with a sword weighted for you and that lovely ornamental armor you have in your quarters.” A slight smile breaks on that normally stoic expression, the stoic nature a classic Cassomir trait Clara is rather familiar with. “You keep complaining and you will never be able to defend yourself that way.” Another slight chastisement…though it is given in a friendly manner as well. It seems the two, bodyguard and charge, have been becoming friends.

Clara shakes her head, her own smile breaking through. “Hand me my quarterstaff…or better yet my bow…and I will show you how I can defend myself.” With a sudden start, a series of short, precise thrusts from the shortsword is given as the Tracano advances upon the Lancer. The attacks have a sense of grace, almost, as Clara’s natural flow and reflexes control her actions. The blows are defended by Alaina…but she notes that Clara’s speed is becoming quicker. Her movements more precise. “And…as we already discussed, I am not ‘Your Highness’. At least not when we are alone…and certainly not when you are teaching me. I am Clara, Sir Cassomir. That’s all I would want to be.” A tip of a wink to Alaina is given. “I’ve gotten your Ironhold cousins trained at least in that….there’s still hope for you yet.” The last statement is punctuated with a giggle.

“Speaking of…” A feint to the left, then a quick slash to the right from Alaina causes the princess to stumble, catching a glancing blow to that right. The Lancer chuckles softly…but doesn’t stop with her conversation, as if it is perfectly natural to be speaking so openly while striking her charge. “Are you ever going to tell my cousin that it was you that purchased the winning painting from the art competition?” The feint is given again…this time from right to left…to which Clara defends passingly well enough. “I may not know Lady Emilia as well as you…but I do know she simply would have given that painting to you, had you asked for it. Why did you bother to go through so much secrecy…and what do you intend to do with it? She will know you purchased it the moment she steps into your room.” Another couple of times with the feints, with Clara parrying each one, is enough before Alaina pauses…letting Clara catch her breath enough to provide a suitable answer, should the princess be willing.

And….Clara is willing. With a tired sigh, she places the training sword down while she directs her attention fully to her bodyguard. “Of course you saw the painting being delivered.” There is a short laugh…and a rather affirmative nod. “And you are right. Emilia would have just given the painting to me, had I asked. Without a second thought. She wouldn’t even have considered any price for it.” Clara pauses…standing in place as she speaks. “And…that’s the problem. She deserves top coin for her work. She wouldn’t have taken gold for the painting from me, had she known I wanted it. Which is why I procured it via a third party. As for why I wanted it…” An eye is cast towards Alaina with a slightly amused air. “Should it matter? Or did you want the paintings for yourself?”

Wait…did she just say paintings? Clara giggles softly, then nods over across the way, over to the Royal Menagerie. “I intend to display them in the Menagerie. The winning painting…plus whatever paintings I am able to get.permission to display from other sources.” Namely Jaren and Alysande, perhaps. “Emilia won three different art competitions….all three this past year. That is impressive. And her talent should be seen. So…that painting won’t be in my quarters for much longer….not after I get a hold of the Menagerie.” With a grin, Clara goes to pick up the sword again. “That answer your question, Alaina?”

First names. Clara is feeling rested, it seems.

Alaina chuckles…and waves her hand. “We’re done for today. Congratulations, little Princess. From what I have seen now, I wager you can actually wield a blade without endangering yourself anymore.” There is a slight smirk from the Cassomir Lancer as she enjoys teasing Clara this time around. “As long as you keep to shortswords and daggers, you should be well enough to at least give a surprise to any would-be assailants.” That sly smirk widens just the bit more. “Why, with practice, you might yet be able to do me proud and defeat my most green squire.” The mock glare from Clara is enough to cause the Lancer to erupt into a short burst of laughter. “Maybe later we can take you to pick out a weapon for you…that is, if you don’t insist on carrying around that pretty walking stick you call a bow for protection.”

The princess just shakes her head. that glaring falling aside to a wicked little grin. “Keep talking, Cassomir. We will see how easy I make your duties in the future!” An empty threat…for the wide grin just gives Clara away. “In the meantime, please help me get out of this maile before I sink to the ground under its weight.” With that, the two walk off the practice grounds, even as squires rush in to help both royal and Lancer.

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