The Alliance - 2. Chapter 2

Soon enough, Alexandre found that Carlin was everything that he wasn’t, and the same was true for the other man. Where Alex slowed, Carlin sped up. Where Carlin dodged, Alex struck. While Carlin took brutal swings that Alex knew could cleave a man in half if they had been using real swords, Alex fought with rapid stabs and slices that intended to make the opponent weary over time. Even the weapons they chose when it came to basic swordsmanship differed. Alexandre favored dual wielding two lightweight practice swords, while Carlin used an imitation of a gargantuan broadsword. They had been in the yard for hours, panting and dancing in imitation of war. Eventually the training slave spoke up, obviously bored with the cycle of tentative strikes. Neither man would yield, so the two seemed to endlessly circle each other in the small courtyard.

“Happy with your marriage then?”

Alex started. Had a slave just initiated conversation with him? He was coming to respect the man for the sole reason that he was not a complete failure in battle, but disrespect from one beneath him was unacceptable. And to make conversation in the middle of a fight was simply… strange.

“Speak when spoken to slave,” he said with a glare. Sweat matted his dark hair to the forehead, and he noticed the other man was perspiring as well. For one who supposedly has ice in his veins, I am unpleasantly warm, he thought. He looked over his opponent once more, who was handsome even in the clunky armor used for sparring. His muscles bulged underneath the cheap plates, and unwaveringly demanded Alexandre’s eyes. Sighing, the young master relented. “I suppose so. I never thought much of marriage, and the proposed bond makes tactical sense. It is a simple duty.” Alex noticed the Tomacian hadn’t broken combat stance, and neither had he.

“Nabians take such a grim approach to all things. I pity you and your people.”

Those words were enough to spark Alexandre’s cold rage. Barely a second after breaking eye contact with the tall Tomacian, Alex used a move that he knew would surprise. Running straight at Carlin, he ducked beneath a blow and launched upwards at the man’s face, feet first. The smaller man’s thighs wrapped around the slave’s neck, and an exaggerated sit-up saw Alex perched on his target in almost a dainty fashion. Wedging the two wooden blades under the shoulder pads Carlin wore, he pushed down with a force that he knew would bruise. In real battle, the blades would have slid between any layered shoulder plates, and punctured the heart and lungs from an upward angle. Nothing but two slits on top of the shoulders would have been visible on the body, the internal damage too severe to repair. It was a technique used for a quick kill, and was normally only taught to Nabian females in the academy. The typical Nabian male weighed in too heavy to properly balance on another’s shoulders like that without causing the other man to fall over, but then Alexandre was completely atypical. Smirking, he was glad that he had his sister as a training partner. Alex was able to master several techniques that were taught only to women with Talia’s guidance. In return, he taught her additional combat skills that were typically deemed masculine by academy officials.

“I win,” he said as he dismounted the large slave and turned to face the other way. Walking over to the nearest weapons rack, he tossed the two wooden swords onto the ground. The rack was disorganized anyway, a variety of weapons piled into a heap at its base. Alex tended to leave his personal practice courtyard in disarray, mostly to spite the master-at-arms that was positively anal when it came to organization. Unsurprisingly, his recalcitrance never went unnoticed, and he turned to find a frowning Jamison Hadeaux in the observation area.

“Where did you learn that?” the master-at-arms of the manse asked with a growl. The man was not much for courtesies, even in the presence of his commanding general’s son.

Alex looked at the sour expression on the man’s face, and simply replied, “Talia.”

Reddening, Hadeaux continued. “That is improper and you know it, Master Di Coteau. Imagine if your father saw you face combat with the stance of a woman. It is despicable.” Spittle flew from the mans mouth, and eye-rolling was tempting to the lithe warrior.

Alex was weary from the fight, and desperately needed a drink. Walking towards the courtyard’s white and grey marble fountain, he internally groaned at the prospect of fighting with this older man. He had seen Alex use a combination of different techniques before, and knew that he was good no matter what. Why should it matter if he had defeated his opponent anyway? In real battle, the kill count would be upped, and Alex would come out of the fight with just that much more glory in the eyes of Nabius. He thought about saying as much, but decided that the argument wasn't worth the effort. Instead, he opted for rolling his eyes where the master at arms couldn't see. Thinking that the conversation was over, he was surprised to hear another voice pipe up.

“I thought it was an impressive technique. On the battlefield, it would have surprised me or any other Tomacian soldier.”

Both Nabian men whipped around in astonishment, and Hadeaux’s eyes looked like they were about to bulge out of his head. Whether it was from the disrespect of speaking without being spoken to or because the slave had just defended his victorious opponent, Alex could not say.

“Gibson will have your hide for this boy,” Hadeaux hissed. He promptly strode out of the yard, black metal-plated boots making soft clinking noises as he marched like the soldier he was. Alex continued staring at the slave, bewildered as to why he had come to his defense. If Alex had just been defeated… there was no question he would be nowhere near as gracious in defeat. Actually, any Nabian would have taken defeat poorly. Talia would likely have lobbed a knife into her vanquisher’s face, even if it were just a defeat in the practice yard. Did this man take no pride in his fighting? Alex wondered. If not, why should he even bother to learn the ways of combat in the first place? When he opened his mouth to reprimand his new slave and demand that he never show that kind of weakness in defeat ever again, Alex was surprised to hear his own words.

“Thank you,” he said.

The taller Tomacian man gave him a quirky half smile, showing strong white teeth and confusion. “You’re welcome, I suppose,” he replied. His deep blue eyes were still fixed on Alexandre’s cool black ones when the younger and smaller man suddenly turned to leave the courtyard, a scowl on his face.

“About your wedding…” Alex froze, not looking over his shoulder to face the unruly battle slave, but still listening to what he had to say. “It seems you still have a few days. If I were in your position, I would go out and do something rebellious or fun. It seems it would do you good.” Alex scoffed at the last comment, and thought he might teach a lesson to this overly brave prisoner of war. No one had dared to tell him what to do since he was twelve, save his father and mother. After a moment of deliberation, Alex decided not to turn to face the man again.

“I see,” he said quietly, and once again resumed his stride towards the central structure of the manor.

***

Fun?! What kind of slave dares to tell me what I should be doing and what is good for me? Alex paced back and forth in his quarters, fuming at the man he had chosen to use as a training slave. His cocky expression and piercing blue eyes were seared into the forefront of Alexandre’s brain, they way they taunted him with every insolent look. This man is a bother, and if he does not die whilst training with me I will have to have him relocated to another area of the estate, Alex thought. Besides the fact that the man was distracting, any efforts by the young Di Coteau to act on his distractions would be in violation of marital vows.

Of course, this wasn’t really a problem in Nabian society. The typical Nabian took life’s pleasures wherever they came, and slept with anyone they chose. While most were very open in their sexuality, things became more discreet after the bond of marriage had been set. When it was publicly, undeniably, and widely known that that a spouse was cheating, a married couple had two choices. Promiscuity from one spouse was taken as an offense to the honor of the other, so the two could fight it out and retain their own integrity. A battle to the death typically was the preferred option by most Nabian citizens. This way, the winner would be liberated to find a new partner or continue with their normal affairs. The second option was to be separated for a period of three years, in which the couple was allowed to rid themselves of primal urges by sleeping around and establishing an individual life. At the end of the three-year period, a reunion ceremony was performed, and the wedlock was effectively resealed. The second option was what Darion Di Coteau and his wife Ysabel had opted for, after a recent indiscretion by Alexandre's mother. One of the most vicious women in Nabius, Madame Ysabel Di Coteau had left for the Nabian capitol just under two years ago. The general did not mind his wife’s transgressions – he often took young women to bed himself when he was feeling restless – but a witness to one of her acts of nature caused a forced split. Ysabel Di Coteau now worked in the Nabian capitol, stealthily feeding information back to the Di Coteau manor from afar. Alex suspected that his parents enjoyed reveling in each other’s sadistic tendencies, which is why they opted not to fight to the death. And in reality… Alex was not sure who would win in a fight between the two of them. It was just as likely that they would take each take the other out, and then Nabius would be down two of its most savage dignitaries. That would wasteful and inefficient, and no one truly wished to see the demise of a couple that represented such unrestrained power.

I suppose I could command Carlin to sleep with me, Alex thought. Surely that is one idea of ‘fun.’ But no, he knew that he would not go through with such a thing. Alex had never experienced a man or a woman, viewing sexual deviance as nothing more than a foolish waste of time. He had offers presented to him in his life, no doubt. He was a very attractive young man, toned and muscled in all the right places and with impressive credentials and family ties. Sparking his interest was a high priority for many young ladies and men alike, and he any that he desired he could have simply asked for. A complex and calculating individual, he simply did not feel the need to act on foolish impulse. There was also something that bothered Alex about using his authority to demand something like sex. At it's core, he knew that the pra

Though he was no stranger to being kissed, the furthest he had ever gone was when a general from one of the southern Nabian regions had visited with his daughter. Fifteen at the time, Alex had been aghast when he came in from training to find a muscled, maroon-haired young woman that forwardly grabbed his crotch and pressed her lips onto his. After she stroked him through the rough-spun pants he had been wearing in the yard for a few seconds, he smashed a mailed fist into her face, and that had been the end of that.

“What is fun?” he asked himself aloud, trying to think of other alternatives. What do I enjoy? Deep down, he knew that Carlin had been right and that he should do something exhilarating before he was forced into wedlock with the Monciet girl. He did not even want to think of that weakling that would take on the Di Coteau name. Looking through his window at a ragged pair of workers that were walking from the manor down to the slave encampment, he was struck by an idea. Smiling, he knew exactly what he would do later that night for “fun,” as Carlin had so boldly declared he needed.

***

Night fell, and Alexandre leapt from his balcony with feline grace. He barely made a sound when he landed, and did not attract the attention of a guard posted merely ten feet away. He wore nothing but a black servant’s smock and undergarments, which he ripped in a few places for good measure. Moving silently and quickly, the general’s son exited the manor and started making his way towards Mullansburg, the large city that was not too far from the manor.

Years ago, aged twelve and fourteen, Talia and Alexandre had done this same thing. By dressing up as non-soldier common folk, they were able to infiltrate a number of taverns and inns, picking up the latest gossip and finagling out the townspeople’s’ opinions of their commanding general and the Di Coteau family. The exercise was fun, and they learned a great deal about how to lead. Learning the opinions of the small-folk would allow them to adjust for how they might better serve the black and red nation, and it was relieving to hear what people actually thought of them. In their own expensive garb, flattery and praise would be all they received. To get an opinion unfiltered, Alexandre and Talia had mixed with the peasants. The trip was rather uneventful minus one instance, but still exciting to the young Di Coteaus. It was similar to reconnaissance missions, which they were both eager to start doing. Their greatest excitements came in a tavern called The Pigsty, which had been aptly named. When a drunken man had a few choice words to say about what he would like to do with Madame Ysabel and her daughter, he was discarded bloody and unconscious into a ditch. Thinking back, Alex remembered that it had been one of his first acts of rebellion. He continued to walk on the uneven gravel road, foreseeing a visit to The Pigsty in his immediate future. In a sudden change of mood, Alex realized that this would not be as much fun without his sister. He should have asked her to accompany him. In fact, at this age, there really was no point to sneaking out and visiting the taverns. He couldn’t care less what the people thought of him, and he didn’t have anything to do but down some strong wine and mope about his imminent wedding.

Lost in thought, Alex had failed to notice several key warning signs that would betray the locations of the slavers and thieves hidden along the path. He walked on, contemplating why he had even listened to his new training slave. Ignoring the noisy rustling in nearby bushes. He looked down at his feet, barely covered in scraps of leather. He couldn’t believe that this was what the servants at the manor wore as shoes. They were incredibly uncomfortable, providing little padding against the gravel that paved the road in between towns. A few steps later, he thought he felt a sharp rock pierce through the bottom of the cracked leather and hesitated, bending down to inspect.

That was when it all happened.

Men jumped out from the bushes and trees in all directions, hooting and hollering in a violent stupor. Alex immediately snapped into fighting mode, pupils dilated and his balance shifted to the center, fists in front of him. Forlornly, he realized that he was in no gear fit for combat and was completely unarmed, save a stiletto strapped to the inside of his right thigh. He whipped the thin blade out, and looked at his attackers.

Eight, he counted. Two drunk, and almost all armed. Circle formation around me, closing in at a medium to slow rate. I can take them. He did not notice the blowgun that was slightly behind him and to the left until one of the two drunken men raised it to his lips. He blew, and Alex lifted his left arm to deflect the dart with his left bracer. The only problem was that he was not wearing a bracer, only a tattered servant’s smock.

Shit, he thought as he pulled the dart from his forearm and fell to his knees. After whipping the stiletto he still held onto through the air and into the gunman's throat, he looked upwards, annoyed and grieved that he now found himself into trouble besides the wedding. He hoped that he could take care of the situation quickly, once he woke. For now, he judged his awareness by concentrating on the starry night sky above. Slowly, the stars began to fade to black, one by one. As consciousness left his body, his last thoughts were of a particularly dashing and pesky slave with bright blue eyes that had gotten him into this foolish mess.