Over the course of a half hour, Ulric got beat most ways you can in a sword fight, but not by the same way twice. Without using any magic, minus the bolstering of his class abilities, just using fundamentals of fighting mostly learned here, he gave his best. It wasn’t good enough to do much more than make the slaughter take a little longer.
Geyrt lived up to her reputation and he never got close to a clean hit, even if he made her work to get around them on occasion. He was picking himself up after getting his bell rung by a real tricky circling cut that came from a parry on the downstroke that he’d been certain was going to land. He reached up and felt a gnarly goose egg forming just above and behind his ear. More than a little blood he wiped off on his pants. Scalp wounds always bled like crazy. Nausea tickled his stomach and he wasn’t totally certain what day it was so he might be slightly concussed. But he wasn’t going to let ole Pointy Ears McBitch over there know it.
He resumed his Undan, this time with a two-handed grip so he didn’t drop the damned thing. Holding a sword correctly while trying not to vomit was harder than it looked. So was getting your feet right, especially when there were four of them and you couldn’t be exactly sure whose were whose.
Geyrt must have felt like his refusal to quit was another kind of insult because she came in for murder. Ulric watched the wooden blade wave, mesmerizing as it darted forward in a slash there was no way under the Twinned Suns he was ever going to block. To his surprise, a wood blade appeared and caught the strike cold, the report of the blades sounding like a gunshot.
He had to check his hands, confused. Nope. Not his.
Ulric felt a solid, if not quite dainty hand on his shoulder and looked over to see Christ beside him. Was a good dude was Christ. Both of him.
I do believe Geyrt tagged me harder than I thought, concluded Ulric, genius that he was.
Geyrt’s surprise at having her fun interrupted was replaced with fury. She opened her mouth to protest and Christ cut her off in a tone that was overly casual.
“Shadow, your enthusiasm motivates me beyond words. I find I cannot help but join the both of you. Please do give me the pleasure of a round.” Requested the youngest of the elite Elves.
Idra had come from his position of oversight. Scrambled though his brains were, Ulric was pretty sure he looked displeased. Well, more displeased than usual during training.
Ulric let his own sword fall to his side and just concentrated on being upright.
“I would also like to see your growth, Shadow.” The swordmaster announced, as he strode up.
The other warriors cleared away instinctively, giving the scarred Elf space. He had that kind of presence did old Idra. Ulric realized the others had gathered to watch the events proceeding.
“It is hard to see the finer aspects of form, when you spar so vigorously against a trainee only days into being allowed to exchange blows with his seniors.” Idra said, so evenly that he might as well have shouted.
It was a bit surprising. Ulric had accepted his ass kicking as necessary to stand up to Geyrt’s attempts to shame him in front of the soldiers. He wouldn’t have thought that they’d feel it necessary to intervene, not against one of their own. A fuzzy part of him reminded “She isn’t one of them anymore, not really.” He frowned. The point was to show her he wasn’t afraid of her. Which, maybe he had already done. A less mature, machismo voice said to him “I don’t need anybody to protect me from the likes of her”. Rational forces rallied momentarily and rebutted “You’re maybe leaking brain juice and beat to shit, of course you do.”
While he argued with himself, Christ stood with ease, the point of his sword low, hands loose on the hilt, like it might slip free any moment.
Geyrt seemed to wither a bit under the scrutiny of her peers, even though, so far as he could tell, this was what she’d wanted. He was confused. The concussion wasn’t helping. Hadn’t the cohort looked down on the visitors who stayed in the sparring ring with Idra far beyond the point that it was clear they didn’t belong there? Ulric shook his head and regretted it when things kept turning even after his head had stopped. Maybe it was because they saw honor in refusing to be downcast. When it came to that, he’d never seen a guardsman be anything but supportive, in their barbed, frequently unpleasantly blunt manner, towards another.
Heedless of the goings on, Ulric decided he was going to sit down. He turned and made it a few steps before being guided by a calloused palm to a bench seat. Idra himself took a seat next to him and gestured with his chin towards the sparring ring.
“Brittle trees never stand the test of time.” Opened Bald’rt’s right hand man, suitably cryptic.
“They always break. Strong though they appear, withstanding without bending all that comes against them, sooner or later a wind comes from an angle that turns their strength to nothing. Then they uproot and their flaws become clear. Heartwood is only hard when it has to be, else it is flexible as [Jade Willow].” Continued the Elf.
Ulric was certain this was related to something, but, for the life of him he couldn’t tell what it might be. Maybe he’d been talking to Instructor Gother, every other word out of the wizened teacher’s mouth was roots this, leaves that.
“Idra’se, no offense, but I’ve been hit in the head too many times recently to have any idea what the fuck you’re talking about.” The battered man confessed.
The hideous scar at the corner of the old warrior’s mouth tweaked upwards as he smiled for a moment. Then the grin vanished and he turned a grim gaze on the sparring circle, its wood inlays demarking the roughly four-meter diameter area where combatants would be allowed to go without being considered in flight or pressed so hard they were overmatched.
Christ hadn’t moved since assuming an almost sleepy Undan, his sword still held loosely, its tip almost touching the planks of the pavilion. Geyrt was in her usual precise stance, like a hunting cat making ready to pounce.
Ulric didn’t know how they decided to start the match but he knew that he didn’t see Christ’s sword before it rose to hit the bottom of Geyrt’s hilt precisely enough to send the training sword skyward, torn free of her grasp. The younger warrior flowed forward without pause and Ulric did see the sword come down hard in a two-handed stroke against her collar bone. Yeowch. Except that the blow touched like a feather, perfectly controlled violence of motion.
His Shadow lacked nothing for courage, she hadn’t blinked when the seemingly brutal blow fell. She was, evidently surprised when it did not land with said power. Her lips pursed, like she’d bitten into lemons, as she went to retrieve the sparring weapon, but when she readied herself for another round, that changed. Christ turned and left the ring, saying only “I have seen what I needed.”
It must have been some kind of insult. Had to be. The tall woman scowled at the ground intensely enough Ulric was suspicious it would catch fire. A moment later, Sinna took Christ’s place in the circle.
“I too wish to see your growth, Shadow. Show me what you have learned all these years hunting Otherkin from the treetops of the wilds.” Demanded the shorter, darker Elf, her tone clearly sarcastic.
Geyrt was even less well pleased than she had been a moment before. But anger was being displaced by something else.
They both assumed their stances. Sinna was textbook, absent Christ’s informal ease. Then the Elves came together in a rush, blades crossed near each other’s throats. Evenly matched. But only for a moment. Sword weaving through complex cuts, stabs, and parries, Sinna began to run through what looked like one of Idra’s exercises, steps and half steps coming fluid rhythm. Slowly, at first, then faster, the elder soldier, by increments and subtle edges of advantage, drove Geyrt back, pushing her into a defensive posture. He knew his Shadow was trying, was searching with her sword for a gap in the attack. There simply wasn’t one, and the senior soldier came on, faster and faster. After a minute of relentless pressure, Geyrt’s retreating foot broke the ring of the circle and Sinna’s thrust made a humming sound as it drove to lay softly against his Shadow’s neck.
The female warrior withdrew her weapon and left the ring saying “I have seen what I needed.”
Ah. Ulric saw the point now. They were doing to her what she had been doing to him. Christ through his sheer intuitive talent for fighting. Sinna with superior mastery of the Dance. Only they weren’t going too far, were restraining themselves to send their message and withdrawing with dignity, without gratuitous pain. Under the watchful gaze of Idra, these greatest of their kin were trying to teach his poor Shadow character. He wondered if she even realized it.
The Royal Guard were nothing if not thorough. Each one took a place in the ring, each mirroring some variant of the opening “Show me what you have learned.” And then, each proceeded to soundly thrash his Shadow before leaving the ring saying “I have seen what I needed”. By the end of it, Ulric knew the woman felt worse than he looked.
The guardsmen hadn’t so much as left a bruise on her flesh. No, the beating was all inside her head. Speaking of which, his was a mess. Fortunately, a Sano mage, a healer, had come over to do a little laying on of hands. The cold wash of healing magic ran through him, leaving particularly chilled sensations where the bruises had gone deepest. So, more or less all over his sides, chest, arms, and head.
He realized the extent of the injuries he’d received once the cleansing artistry of the Sano Magus cleared his mind. They departed as swiftly as they’d come, satisfied that all was handled, leaving him to his musings. Geyrt had whooped him proper, not just defeated she’d gone out of her way to hurt him. But he hadn’t given her the satisfaction of backing down. And he never would. He would, however, make sure he didn’t underestimate the lessons the Royal Guards had to teach again. All the lessons, not just the ones with weapons.
There wasn’t much to be said after that. Idra ended the practice with reminders to “Observe well that determination without experience leads to defeat and strategy without strength leads to embarrassment.” A not so subtle dig at both he and Geyrt, who were, in a way intruding on the normally closed grounds wherein the Royal Guards honed themselves.
Ulric caught the scarred Elf’s eye and nodded that he’d received the message not to bring his problems into the training grounds again. He owed Christ a beer, or a snort of Elf coke if they did that, or whatever he could scrounge up that the dude was about, for catching that last swing before it mashed his face. Healers did good work but he wouldn’t be pretty anymore after that. Speaking of, the most illustrious Geyrt Iriel was doing her best to pretend that nobody else existed on the planet. It was another bed of her own making and Ulric was no longer inclined to feel too badly about her lying in it. His sympathy was gone about three blows to the noggin ago.
Given that his magic instructors were gone, he had a notion to retire to his bed early after a quick raid on the mess hall. He spotted the not quite chastened former Hunter on her way to do the same thing. After a few calming breaths he decided he needed to go make plain his thoughts on the matter at hand. It was well past time he dealt with this.
"Sit, Geyrt, we need to discuss some things." Ulric said, gently as he was able, which wasn’t much.
When his Shadow turned and made to leave his heart hardened substantially. Angry or not, he wasn't going to permit rudeness from her. He was no longer under embargo from using his magic and he’d encase her in ice if that’s what it took.
"Shadow, I did not ask you a question, I did not permit you to leave, and I have already made clear I will not tolerate disrespect from you. Now sit the fuck down before you bring even more embarrassment to your people." He commanded.
Her eyes widened before narrowing to that face ruining glare. But she sat.
"It seems not even taking food will I be given peace from you Glade Chief." She whispered harshly. "Surely there are others for you to look at, you may as well stuff me into bed and be done-"
"Get over yourself woman.” He cut her off, pulling this thorn now, since she’d offered it, “I'd sooner put a [Heckler Monkey] in the sack than you, they're less annoying. I'm going to say this one godsdamned time and you better remember it: This," Ulric growled gesturing with his hand up and down, "Isn't worth dealing with the awful person behind it." he declared with finality.
"Now that we've got that out of the way, let's get back to what I really wanted to get through your head." Ulric continued, determined to have this nonsense out before he met with Bald'rt.
One less thing to have on his mind while he talked with the grownups.
"I'm about to commit to going to war as an ally of your people and, from what I can tell, you're absolutely useless to me." He berated her bluntly, which drew her up short.
"Out in the wilds, as a scout against the beasts? There's no single person I'd rather have backing me up. No one. You're everything I could ask for in a comrade out there.” Ulric told her, honestly.
She seemed surprised that he would admit it, as if he’d been unfair to her at any point, which he hadn’t, other than their first meeting where he’d responded less than charitably to her attempt at feathering him. But he wasn’t finished yet.
“In a war though? Against a thinking enemy that knows how to push belligerent Elf buttons? The first time someone figures out that all they have to do to turn you from your task is to get under your skin, it's over. They'll draw you out into a trap and that'll be it, only you'll be hanging me out to dry alongside you. Soldiers in a unit need to rely on each other, they need to trust each other to do their part. I'll be honest with you Geyrt, I don't. I don't trust you at all to forget your pride and do what needs doing. To me, you're an arrogant child who needs to grow up." Ulric let her have it.
Then he really came in swinging.
“And, you know what? I’m not the only person who thinks so, your kin just aren’t willing to tell you on account of who you are, or were. You wanna know why your folk have a problem with you? It isn’t because you’re a pain in the ass, Bald’rt Iriel is walking proof that your people love an asshole, it’s because you’re a waste of potential. You have everything, you’ve got the total package. And it’s wasted on you. You could’ve been a hero to your people, instead, you spent a half century on a grudge and threw everybody that doesn’t have pointy ears in along with the ones who earned your resentment.”
"You insult me, you have no right to say these things!" She hissed at him, getting in his face.
She was furious denial incarnate. And Ulric wasn’t having any of her shit.
He jabbed a finger at her, "Bullshit. Tell me I'm wrong. Go ahead. Lie to me." He challenged.
Her mouth worked soundlessly. She started to object several times, to voice a denial. Each time she had to stop. He wasn’t saying anything she hadn’t come to suspect, wasn’t telling her anything she didn’t know, only putting it under the light of the Twins so others could see. Still hurt from his laughter at her status, at being branded by his pejorative, from her shaming in front of the warrior elite of her clan, and now from this haranguing that cut too close to what her own Mother had been flogging her with in recent weeks, she wanted lashed out.
Ulric ignored her brief floundering deciding he’d come to the end of his rope.
"I've tried with you, I really have. I’ve tried to understand, I’ve tried to see it from your perspective, but I’m out of patience." He said, riding over top of her strangled protests
Now he came to the heart of it, and he found he was angry about this next bit, “All of this? Over a joke so funny the entire fucked up planet went along with it? I got the feeling that you got so pissed when I laughed at you because what you really think, deep down, is that I'm some kind of lesser creature that had the gall to find you amusing. And, for that? You can kiss my Human ass."
Geyrt sat back at that and her face was carefully blank. Which was as much an admission as he needed.
Disgusted, Ulric decided he was pretty much finished dealing with this situation.
"Normally, I'd tell you to go pound sand, because I'm not willing to tolerate much in the way of other people's nonsense. But. I promised your father I'd take care of you, and that is what I will do. So, once and for all, what exactly is your fucking problem?" He put all his cards on the table.
"My problem is that I am slaved to a contemptible an-" She cut off when she saw lightning in Ulric's eyes.
He'd told her once, long ago, that if she called him animal again, he'd kill her. She could see him already preparing to do it, could feel the mana warping around him. She knew that, if she finished that word, she'd die. The last time she'd actually felt mana twisting like this, was when her father had disintegrated a Prosper ambassador for directing filth towards her little brother in court. He'd done it without so much as a word. Just a flash of crimson light.
Ice poured down her spine when she realized how close she'd come. Fear. In her? Of him? It made her angry all over again. But she didn't finish the word.
"I think I've had enough of the sight of you for a little while Geyrt." Ulric told her feeling tired now.
"Go back to your rooms, stay there until I send for you. Say nothing. When I have time and the desire to be around more unpleasantness I'll call, but, just right now, you're making me sick." He ordered softly, barely above a whisper.
She rose again and he didn't bother to look.
So much for charming anything. All he'd managed to do was unload on her, drive her into a corner, and then, nearly kill her for being too upset to think straight. Gods she pissed him off so bad. And now he'd fucked it up. Probably for good, all because he’d laughed at her.
"I'm such a fucking asshole." He told the table quietly.
Over the course of a half hour, Ulric got beat most ways you can in a sword fight, but not by the same way twice. Without using any magic, minus the bolstering of his class abilities, just using fundamentals of fighting mostly learned here, he gave his best. It wasn’t good enough to do much more than make the slaughter take a little longer.
Geyrt lived up to her reputation and he never got close to a clean hit, even if he made her work to get around them on occasion. He was picking himself up after getting his bell rung by a real tricky circling cut that came from a parry on the downstroke that he’d been certain was going to land. He reached up and felt a gnarly goose egg forming just above and behind his ear. More than a little blood he wiped off on his pants. Scalp wounds always bled like crazy. Nausea tickled his stomach and he wasn’t totally certain what day it was so he might be slightly concussed. But he wasn’t going to let ole Pointy Ears McBitch over there know it.
He resumed his Undan, this time with a two-handed grip so he didn’t drop the damned thing. Holding a sword correctly while trying not to vomit was harder than it looked. So was getting your feet right, especially when there were four of them and you couldn’t be exactly sure whose were whose.
Geyrt must have felt like his refusal to quit was another kind of insult because she came in for murder. Ulric watched the wooden blade wave, mesmerizing as it darted forward in a slash there was no way under the Twinned Suns he was ever going to block. To his surprise, a wood blade appeared and caught the strike cold, the report of the blades sounding like a gunshot.
He had to check his hands, confused. Nope. Not his.
Ulric felt a solid, if not quite dainty hand on his shoulder and looked over to see Christ beside him. Was a good dude was Christ. Both of him.
I do believe Geyrt tagged me harder than I thought, concluded Ulric, genius that he was.
Geyrt’s surprise at having her fun interrupted was replaced with fury. She opened her mouth to protest and Christ cut her off in a tone that was overly casual.
“Shadow, your enthusiasm motivates me beyond words. I find I cannot help but join the both of you. Please do give me the pleasure of a round.” Requested the youngest of the elite Elves.
Idra had come from his position of oversight. Scrambled though his brains were, Ulric was pretty sure he looked displeased. Well, more displeased than usual during training.
Ulric let his own sword fall to his side and just concentrated on being upright.
“I would also like to see your growth, Shadow.” The swordmaster announced, as he strode up.
The other warriors cleared away instinctively, giving the scarred Elf space. He had that kind of presence did old Idra. Ulric realized the others had gathered to watch the events proceeding.
“It is hard to see the finer aspects of form, when you spar so vigorously against a trainee only days into being allowed to exchange blows with his seniors.” Idra said, so evenly that he might as well have shouted.
It was a bit surprising. Ulric had accepted his ass kicking as necessary to stand up to Geyrt’s attempts to shame him in front of the soldiers. He wouldn’t have thought that they’d feel it necessary to intervene, not against one of their own. A fuzzy part of him reminded “She isn’t one of them anymore, not really.” He frowned. The point was to show her he wasn’t afraid of her. Which, maybe he had already done. A less mature, machismo voice said to him “I don’t need anybody to protect me from the likes of her”. Rational forces rallied momentarily and rebutted “You’re maybe leaking brain juice and beat to shit, of course you do.”
While he argued with himself, Christ stood with ease, the point of his sword low, hands loose on the hilt, like it might slip free any moment.
Geyrt seemed to wither a bit under the scrutiny of her peers, even though, so far as he could tell, this was what she’d wanted. He was confused. The concussion wasn’t helping. Hadn’t the cohort looked down on the visitors who stayed in the sparring ring with Idra far beyond the point that it was clear they didn’t belong there? Ulric shook his head and regretted it when things kept turning even after his head had stopped. Maybe it was because they saw honor in refusing to be downcast. When it came to that, he’d never seen a guardsman be anything but supportive, in their barbed, frequently unpleasantly blunt manner, towards another.
Heedless of the goings on, Ulric decided he was going to sit down. He turned and made it a few steps before being guided by a calloused palm to a bench seat. Idra himself took a seat next to him and gestured with his chin towards the sparring ring.
“Brittle trees never stand the test of time.” Opened Bald’rt’s right hand man, suitably cryptic.
“They always break. Strong though they appear, withstanding without bending all that comes against them, sooner or later a wind comes from an angle that turns their strength to nothing. Then they uproot and their flaws become clear. Heartwood is only hard when it has to be, else it is flexible as [Jade Willow].” Continued the Elf.
Ulric was certain this was related to something, but, for the life of him he couldn’t tell what it might be. Maybe he’d been talking to Instructor Gother, every other word out of the wizened teacher’s mouth was roots this, leaves that.
“Idra’se, no offense, but I’ve been hit in the head too many times recently to have any idea what the fuck you’re talking about.” The battered man confessed.
The hideous scar at the corner of the old warrior’s mouth tweaked upwards as he smiled for a moment. Then the grin vanished and he turned a grim gaze on the sparring circle, its wood inlays demarking the roughly four-meter diameter area where combatants would be allowed to go without being considered in flight or pressed so hard they were overmatched.
Christ hadn’t moved since assuming an almost sleepy Undan, his sword still held loosely, its tip almost touching the planks of the pavilion. Geyrt was in her usual precise stance, like a hunting cat making ready to pounce.
Ulric didn’t know how they decided to start the match but he knew that he didn’t see Christ’s sword before it rose to hit the bottom of Geyrt’s hilt precisely enough to send the training sword skyward, torn free of her grasp. The younger warrior flowed forward without pause and Ulric did see the sword come down hard in a two-handed stroke against her collar bone. Yeowch. Except that the blow touched like a feather, perfectly controlled violence of motion.
His Shadow lacked nothing for courage, she hadn’t blinked when the seemingly brutal blow fell. She was, evidently surprised when it did not land with said power. Her lips pursed, like she’d bitten into lemons, as she went to retrieve the sparring weapon, but when she readied herself for another round, that changed. Christ turned and left the ring, saying only “I have seen what I needed.”
It must have been some kind of insult. Had to be. The tall woman scowled at the ground intensely enough Ulric was suspicious it would catch fire. A moment later, Sinna took Christ’s place in the circle.
“I too wish to see your growth, Shadow. Show me what you have learned all these years hunting Otherkin from the treetops of the wilds.” Demanded the shorter, darker Elf, her tone clearly sarcastic.
Geyrt was even less well pleased than she had been a moment before. But anger was being displaced by something else.
They both assumed their stances. Sinna was textbook, absent Christ’s informal ease. Then the Elves came together in a rush, blades crossed near each other’s throats. Evenly matched. But only for a moment. Sword weaving through complex cuts, stabs, and parries, Sinna began to run through what looked like one of Idra’s exercises, steps and half steps coming fluid rhythm. Slowly, at first, then faster, the elder soldier, by increments and subtle edges of advantage, drove Geyrt back, pushing her into a defensive posture. He knew his Shadow was trying, was searching with her sword for a gap in the attack. There simply wasn’t one, and the senior soldier came on, faster and faster. After a minute of relentless pressure, Geyrt’s retreating foot broke the ring of the circle and Sinna’s thrust made a humming sound as it drove to lay softly against his Shadow’s neck.
The female warrior withdrew her weapon and left the ring saying “I have seen what I needed.”
Ah. Ulric saw the point now. They were doing to her what she had been doing to him. Christ through his sheer intuitive talent for fighting. Sinna with superior mastery of the Dance. Only they weren’t going too far, were restraining themselves to send their message and withdrawing with dignity, without gratuitous pain. Under the watchful gaze of Idra, these greatest of their kin were trying to teach his poor Shadow character. He wondered if she even realized it.
The Royal Guard were nothing if not thorough. Each one took a place in the ring, each mirroring some variant of the opening “Show me what you have learned.” And then, each proceeded to soundly thrash his Shadow before leaving the ring saying “I have seen what I needed”. By the end of it, Ulric knew the woman felt worse than he looked.
The guardsmen hadn’t so much as left a bruise on her flesh. No, the beating was all inside her head. Speaking of which, his was a mess. Fortunately, a Sano mage, a healer, had come over to do a little laying on of hands. The cold wash of healing magic ran through him, leaving particularly chilled sensations where the bruises had gone deepest. So, more or less all over his sides, chest, arms, and head.
He realized the extent of the injuries he’d received once the cleansing artistry of the Sano Magus cleared his mind. They departed as swiftly as they’d come, satisfied that all was handled, leaving him to his musings. Geyrt had whooped him proper, not just defeated she’d gone out of her way to hurt him. But he hadn’t given her the satisfaction of backing down. And he never would. He would, however, make sure he didn’t underestimate the lessons the Royal Guards had to teach again. All the lessons, not just the ones with weapons.
There wasn’t much to be said after that. Idra ended the practice with reminders to “Observe well that determination without experience leads to defeat and strategy without strength leads to embarrassment.” A not so subtle dig at both he and Geyrt, who were, in a way intruding on the normally closed grounds wherein the Royal Guards honed themselves.
Ulric caught the scarred Elf’s eye and nodded that he’d received the message not to bring his problems into the training grounds again. He owed Christ a beer, or a snort of Elf coke if they did that, or whatever he could scrounge up that the dude was about, for catching that last swing before it mashed his face. Healers did good work but he wouldn’t be pretty anymore after that. Speaking of, the most illustrious Geyrt Iriel was doing her best to pretend that nobody else existed on the planet. It was another bed of her own making and Ulric was no longer inclined to feel too badly about her lying in it. His sympathy was gone about three blows to the noggin ago.
Given that his magic instructors were gone, he had a notion to retire to his bed early after a quick raid on the mess hall. He spotted the not quite chastened former Hunter on her way to do the same thing. After a few calming breaths he decided he needed to go make plain his thoughts on the matter at hand. It was well past time he dealt with this.
"Sit, Geyrt, we need to discuss some things." Ulric said, gently as he was able, which wasn’t much.
When his Shadow turned and made to leave his heart hardened substantially. Angry or not, he wasn't going to permit rudeness from her. He was no longer under embargo from using his magic and he’d encase her in ice if that’s what it took.
"Shadow, I did not ask you a question, I did not permit you to leave, and I have already made clear I will not tolerate disrespect from you. Now sit the fuck down before you bring even more embarrassment to your people." He commanded.
Her eyes widened before narrowing to that face ruining glare. But she sat.
"It seems not even taking food will I be given peace from you Glade Chief." She whispered harshly. "Surely there are others for you to look at, you may as well stuff me into bed and be done-"
"Get over yourself woman.” He cut her off, pulling this thorn now, since she’d offered it, “I'd sooner put a [Heckler Monkey] in the sack than you, they're less annoying. I'm going to say this one godsdamned time and you better remember it: This," Ulric growled gesturing with his hand up and down, "Isn't worth dealing with the awful person behind it." he declared with finality.
"Now that we've got that out of the way, let's get back to what I really wanted to get through your head." Ulric continued, determined to have this nonsense out before he met with Bald'rt.
One less thing to have on his mind while he talked with the grownups.
"I'm about to commit to going to war as an ally of your people and, from what I can tell, you're absolutely useless to me." He berated her bluntly, which drew her up short.
"Out in the wilds, as a scout against the beasts? There's no single person I'd rather have backing me up. No one. You're everything I could ask for in a comrade out there.” Ulric told her, honestly.
She seemed surprised that he would admit it, as if he’d been unfair to her at any point, which he hadn’t, other than their first meeting where he’d responded less than charitably to her attempt at feathering him. But he wasn’t finished yet.
“In a war though? Against a thinking enemy that knows how to push belligerent Elf buttons? The first time someone figures out that all they have to do to turn you from your task is to get under your skin, it's over. They'll draw you out into a trap and that'll be it, only you'll be hanging me out to dry alongside you. Soldiers in a unit need to rely on each other, they need to trust each other to do their part. I'll be honest with you Geyrt, I don't. I don't trust you at all to forget your pride and do what needs doing. To me, you're an arrogant child who needs to grow up." Ulric let her have it.
Then he really came in swinging.
“And, you know what? I’m not the only person who thinks so, your kin just aren’t willing to tell you on account of who you are, or were. You wanna know why your folk have a problem with you? It isn’t because you’re a pain in the ass, Bald’rt Iriel is walking proof that your people love an asshole, it’s because you’re a waste of potential. You have everything, you’ve got the total package. And it’s wasted on you. You could’ve been a hero to your people, instead, you spent a half century on a grudge and threw everybody that doesn’t have pointy ears in along with the ones who earned your resentment.”
"You insult me, you have no right to say these things!" She hissed at him, getting in his face.
She was furious denial incarnate. And Ulric wasn’t having any of her shit.
He jabbed a finger at her, "Bullshit. Tell me I'm wrong. Go ahead. Lie to me." He challenged.
Her mouth worked soundlessly. She started to object several times, to voice a denial. Each time she had to stop. He wasn’t saying anything she hadn’t come to suspect, wasn’t telling her anything she didn’t know, only putting it under the light of the Twins so others could see. Still hurt from his laughter at her status, at being branded by his pejorative, from her shaming in front of the warrior elite of her clan, and now from this haranguing that cut too close to what her own Mother had been flogging her with in recent weeks, she wanted lashed out.
Ulric ignored her brief floundering deciding he’d come to the end of his rope.
"I've tried with you, I really have. I’ve tried to understand, I’ve tried to see it from your perspective, but I’m out of patience." He said, riding over top of her strangled protests
Now he came to the heart of it, and he found he was angry about this next bit, “All of this? Over a joke so funny the entire fucked up planet went along with it? I got the feeling that you got so pissed when I laughed at you because what you really think, deep down, is that I'm some kind of lesser creature that had the gall to find you amusing. And, for that? You can kiss my Human ass."
Geyrt sat back at that and her face was carefully blank. Which was as much an admission as he needed.
Disgusted, Ulric decided he was pretty much finished dealing with this situation.
"Normally, I'd tell you to go pound sand, because I'm not willing to tolerate much in the way of other people's nonsense. But. I promised your father I'd take care of you, and that is what I will do. So, once and for all, what exactly is your fucking problem?" He put all his cards on the table.
"My problem is that I am slaved to a contemptible an-" She cut off when she saw lightning in Ulric's eyes.
He'd told her once, long ago, that if she called him animal again, he'd kill her. She could see him already preparing to do it, could feel the mana warping around him. She knew that, if she finished that word, she'd die. The last time she'd actually felt mana twisting like this, was when her father had disintegrated a Prosper ambassador for directing filth towards her little brother in court. He'd done it without so much as a word. Just a flash of crimson light.
Ice poured down her spine when she realized how close she'd come. Fear. In her? Of him? It made her angry all over again. But she didn't finish the word.
"I think I've had enough of the sight of you for a little while Geyrt." Ulric told her feeling tired now.
"Go back to your rooms, stay there until I send for you. Say nothing. When I have time and the desire to be around more unpleasantness I'll call, but, just right now, you're making me sick." He ordered softly, barely above a whisper.
She rose again and he didn't bother to look.
So much for charming anything. All he'd managed to do was unload on her, drive her into a corner, and then, nearly kill her for being too upset to think straight. Gods she pissed him off so bad. And now he'd fucked it up. Probably for good, all because he’d laughed at her.
"I'm such a fucking asshole." He told the table quietly.
