The Drache's Love

Chapter 3, Cormac

 Of all people to be paired with, I would get the bleeding princess.  I had serious doubts about her "soldier" status.  Just because she would receive no special treatment, didn't mean she wouldn't expect it.

    When this integrated company was announced, I immediately had misgivings, but the Drache chieftain, Grimere, was committed to upholding the peace with the humans.  I suppose I would feel the same way, were I in his position.  He had all the Drache in the Kingdom of Broma to consider.  I was nobody, and only had myself to care for.  I had made my name as a warrior, and gained prestige among my people, but that meant nothing here.

    Grimere had sent some of his best warriors, myself included, and some of his more mediocre ones, as to not leave the other Drache defenseless.  But the other creatures' abilities paled in comparison to those of even our worst warriors.  Why should we be integrated?  Why couldn't there be an elite Drache company in the Broman army?  These humans were weak, and I feared we would be spending all of our time defending them.

    I took stock of this princess.  She was tall, for a human female, her black hair braided beginning from the crown of her head, and then gathered in a no nonsense bun at the nape of her neck.  Her eyes were a piercing blue, and seemed to hold secrets that no princess should know.  The paleness of her skin only accentuated her ful, rosy lips.  She curved in all the right places, but unlike so many higher caste human women I had seen, her waist was not tiny.  She was solid, and it was obvious that most of her strength was in her legs, giving her a powerful base.

    This Avva was attractive, even by the standards of the Drache, and there would be no denying it.  But I had no doubt that her head was as empty as a dried gourd.  I sighed deeply as the others paired off.  There would be no time like the present.  I steeled myself to deal with this undoubtedly insipid royal.

    “I am Cormac, of the Drache,” I announced, almost pompously.  "Do I have to call you 'Princess'?"

    "I am Avva of the Royal House.  And, no.  Avva will do perfectly well," she replied, eyes narrowed.  I wasn't here to ingratiate myself to these humans, and her reaction confirmed that I was doing nothing of the sort.

    "Weapon of choice?"  I queried as we fell in stride toward the mess hall.  I expected her answer to be something utterly feminine, along the lines of poison.

    "Spear," she answered, surprisingly.  "You?"

    "I'm proficient with all weapons, but my favorite is my scimitar," I replied.

    It was then I swore I heard her mutter something about humility under her breath.  I looked down at her in disbelief.  A princess?  Giving lessons on humility?  That was rich.

    This was going to be more difficult than even I had originally assumed.