A loud Edralian voice woke Caj.

“Caj! You are late for our practice session! Where are you?” a head poked into Caj’s bedchamber. A head with a pointed beard and two different colored eyes, one green, and one brown. Caj swore and tried to find some way out of his current situation, but it was to no avail. Natalia’s arms were wrapped around his chest, and her legs were entangled with his. So, there he was, in nothing but his small-clothes, lying in bed with Bietre Noblis’ daughter, who was wearing just as little as he. Not only had Bietre actually entered the room, but the window and Caj’s room had blown open in the night, as it was wont to do, and was casting light across the bed. It would almost have been comical if it were anyone other than himself in the situation, thought Caj. When Bietre’s eyes landed on the bed, and flicked between Caj and Natalia, Caj felt his heart hammer to a stop in his chest. This was it. Bietre would kill him, or at least maim him. Would he even be able to piss without sitting down after this? Would he even be alive after this? He waited for Bietre’s explosion of rage and anger. Bietre’s eyebrows were slowly creeping higher and higher on his face, and his eyes getting wider and wider. Caj waited for the whisper of steel, but instead, he heard Bietre’s theatrical whisper.

“Does this mean you are submitting a marriage contract after all?” he asked, laughter lurking in his eyes. By this point Natalia was awake, and she let out a yelp.

“DAD!” she shouted. Caj tried to glare, but he was too busy letting out a relieved laugh.

“You bastard…” he choked out. Bietre lowered one of his brows.

“Says the man sleeping with my youngest daughter in my own home.” Caj winced. There was only mocking laughter in Bietre’s voice, but the words were not so dissimilar to the one s running through his own mind. Natalia interrupted Bietre and Caj’s interaction.

“Dad! Can you get out! Please!” Bietre held up his hand in surrender.

“Okay, Okay, I am leaving Lapachka,” he said, stepping out of the room. His head reappeared a moment later. “Do you need a little time to…” he trailed of at the furious look on Natalia’s face, and the deeply embarrassed one on Caj’s. “Never mind then…” he inched the door closed, and made a point of stomping his feet as he walked away. Just in case they didn’t realize that he was gone.

***

Caj’s face was still beet red as he stumbled into the courtyard, shirt half-unbuttoned, sword scabbard in his hand rather than on his hips. He didn’t know whether or not to be embarrassed, relieved or ashamed. Currently, he had settled on a mixture of the three emotions, forming an interesting neurochemical cocktail. As he hopped into the courtyard, attempting to fasten the last of the buckles on his left boot, he was sorely worried about what today’s training had in store. Caj looked up as he finally got the last of the buckles fastened, and ducked through the entry to the courtyard. Internally he let out a little sigh. There was a naked blade streaking towards his face. Very quickly. Well, he really hadn’t expected anything less, he supposed. Even as Caj thought’s raced, his bods raced, his bod was moving. Years of training with Narm and Bietre had conditioned him to expect the unexpected, and to flow with events as they came.

Caj’s sheathed sword crashed against the blade coming towards his face, knocking it off course as he ducked under the strike and towards the offending swordsman. Caj felt a crunch as the first two knuckles of his left hand made contact with the nose of his assailant in a clean jab, just the way that Narm had taught him so many years before. The man’s head snapped back once then twice, as Caj’s fist landed again, leaving a nice dent in the man’s cheekbone along with another crack of bone. The sheathed tip of Caj’s sword landed with a thump in the man’s solar plexus next, knocking the wind out of him and leaning him forward. Caj kicked the fellow’s hip and sent him to the ground, and drew his longsword from its scabbard in one smooth movement, and pointing it at the throat of his would-be killer. The sword was in his off hand, but it didn’t much matter: Caj practiced just as much with his left hand as with his right. The entire exchange took maybe a second or two, and Caj’s heart was still racing, and adrenaline still high. Caj had been in a number of actual fights, due to what Bietre referred to as his “enlightened training methods”.

Really, Caj thought, the man is about as enlightened as a fifteen-year-old mountain goat with dementia.

Bietre’s methods for giving Caj real world experience typically consisted of sending Caj somewhere with the vague direction of “Cause some trouble, but don’t kill anyone. Yes? Good. Killing people causes too much paperwork.” Mostly, Caj would just walk into a seedy tavern and wait for two to three patrons to get drunk enough to try and pick a fight with him. After he took care of his “training”, and made sure that the men were fairly compensated with two gold royals each, he would report back to Bietre. In all that time, however, he could count the times someone had pulled an actual weapon on him from their person. There were barstools and chair legs sure enough, but he never had a blade larger than a large knife drawn on him. This incident, which happened on Bietre’s own estate, was the first time anyone had ever drawn a blade with apparent intent to kill. Caj would be lying if he said that he wasn’t a little shaken up over it. He looked down at his attacker, and was surprised to realize that he recognized him. It was Maxim Noblis. Bietre’s Voice broke the stunned silence.

“I did try to warn him that it wouldn’t work.” Bietre said in between swallows from his waterskin. “He didn’t seem to want to listen, though.”

“Nope. Da’ cocky little lo’dlling, thought he could swing a sword at yo’ face, and that you’d not rightly upset about that.” Lewis shrugged from where he was standing. The deckhand turned guard officer looked bored. “He’s still drunk tho’, so I suppose he gets a slight pass.” Caj blinked rapidly a few times, before speaking. He was embarrassed to realize that his voice was rather shriller than he had intended.

“And you just let him?” Caj demanded incredulously. Lewis shrugged.

“I’m just a humble Lieutenant, Ser Caj, who am I tae be telling a noble how to act?” Caj turned his glare on Bietre, who was studiously picking at his cuticles. Maxim tried to grab at his legs, but Caj, just half-heartedly kicked the man in the stomach, putting him back on the ground.

“It seemed fair.” Bietre said distractedly. “I found you in bed with my daughter this morning. Now, don’t misunderstand me Caj, I like you, quite a lot, but at the very least, you could’ve asked my blessing.” Caj’s anger tempered somewhat at the reminder of what he had been caught at this morning, but it very quickly rose again.

“Oh, aye, Bietre, that’s fair. I slept with your daughter, so you let your son try to kill me. I definitely see the way that makes sense. It’s a very proportional response.”

“Hmm?” Bietre hummed distractedly. “Oh no, that part was Maxim’s punishment: he drank nearly all of my favorite brandy last night, and I will have to wait at least a month before I can get any more. Also, he is absolute jack-shit at fighting outside of dueling ring. Using my enlightened teaching methods, he will soon learn. As for you, just remember that it could have been me swinging a sword at your head. Yes?” Caj gulped a little bit. He knew that he might be able to escape a fight with Bietre free of injury, so long as they started on equal footing, but he had no illusions of how the scene that had just played out would have gone if he and Bietre had been the actors, and not he and Maxim.

Bietre was not a young noble trained only in duels; he was considered one of the foremost warriors on this side of the continent. This was not necessarily because of just skill, it was a healthy combination of skill, cunning, and downright ruthlessness that seeded his reputation in the minds of any who would choose to fight him. Bietre might be getting older now, well into his fifth decade, but he was no easy mark, that was sure as sure. Caj had never beat the man based on skill alone. Any time that he ever won one of their practice bouts, it was always a matter of either luck, advantage, terrain, or some combination of the three. In a situation where Bietre had the ultimate advantage, and controlled the terrain, as he would have if he had chosen to attack Caj in the young man’s haphazard state, that would leave Caj with only luck. Caj judged that it would take a very lucky man indeed to survive in that particular situation.

“Aye sir,” Caj replied, his tone colored with more respect than he had perhaps ever used when talking to Bietre. “I’ll be sure to remember it.”

“Good!” Bietre said brightly, “Now then, go clean up. I lied to you earlier, there is no training this morning. We have visitors coming in a few hours.” He looked at Caj, his multicolored eyes pinning him to his spot as effectively as a nail pinned a board. “These are not the type of guests that you greet in your current attire. Wear your best.” When Bietre’s eyes turned away from him, Caj heaved a breath, then asked a question.

“Who are our guests? Why are they here?” It was Lewis who answered, rather than Bietre.

“Well, isn’t it obvious Caj? Maxim Noblis, son of the Famed and lauded hero Bietre Noblis, has come home. And the Knightya’d has come recruiting.” Caj blinked.

“But… If they’re looking for Maxim, why do I even need to be there?” Bietre answered this query.

“Because, Caj,” the old swordmaster said smoothly, his guttural Edralian accent deepening, and beginning to sound almost like his son’s, “I am sending all three of my children to Great River, to make further connections or some such. It’s all Natalia’s idea, yes?” he waved his right hand airily, obviously unconcerned with the whole situation, “Something about, ‘political stability in Whoid Stria and representation of our house in the greater court’. Personally, I do not much care about that. What I do care about, however, is the safety of my children. Therefore, you and Lewis will be accompanying them. I feel that time spent at the Knightyard will prove…” Bietre paused for a moment, looking thoughtful and amused at the same time. “Beneficial for you. Also, I do not think Natalia would be willing to leave you behind, if the way she was holding onto you this morning is anything to judge by.” Caj’s face reddened with embarrassment at Bietre’s comment. The aging sword master chuckled, a light twinkling in his eyes, although there might be some sadness lurking there too. After all, no father likes to see his baby girl all grown up. Lewis broke any remaining tension with a snorting laugh.

“Best ‘urry up, Caj. They’re set to be here in the hour.” Caj cursed, and sprinted for the nearest staircase.