The Drache's Love

Chapter 4, Avva

 This Drache, this Cormac, clearly would rather eat dirt than give me the time of day.  Most likely because I was a weak human, female and royalty to boot.  I would just have to prove that I was not, in fact, weak.  There was nothing I could do about being human, or royalty.  But any proving would have to wait for the morrow.  

    "Shall we dine?" he asked, superfluously, as we were already making our way toward our dinner.  As he spoke, I noticed his forked tongue.  What exactly were the Drache?  A snake/human hybrid?

    "But of course," I replied, smiling.  This one had already made a definitive decision about me.  I was still debating my course of action, but I would be nothing but polite and friendly.  Perhaps, I would simply let him discover in his own time what kind of person I truly was.  That would begin with our first training session, I imagined.

    Still, the point of this whole pairing exercise, was to form at the very least, a rapport.  Perhaps Melkree's goal was for his soldiers to form a friendly relationship.  I thought that the Drache and I would do well to tolerate each other, but only time would tell, so as we took our seats for dinner, I continued.

    "I believe it's my turn to ask a question.  Why did you choose to join this company?"

    "I didn't," he replied, "I was appointed by Grimere, our chieftain."

    "Well, I suppose that's one thing we have in common then.  I was appointed as well.  And judging by your tone, it's apparent that neither one of us particularly want to be here," I stated, unequivocally.

    "You're a princess.  Surely you could have asked daddy to get you out of this," he scoffed.  He had indeed already weighed and measured me, and found me wanting.

    "'Daddy' is the one who appointed me.  And since Da is the King, I can't very well say 'no', now can I?" I queried.

    "Then I suppose he either has great faith in you, or the King is one for preferential treatment," he said, and I knew he was more likely to believe the latter.  My polite, friendly mask slipped for a moment, and my temper - that got me into trouble more often than not - took the reins.

    "Your balls must be huge and made of iron!  If that was the case, don't you think I would be in command and not Melkree? " I gritted through clenched teeth.  I hadn't thought I was too loud, but the soldiers immediately surrounding us all paused and cut their eyes our way, some with their cutlery half raised to their mouths.  Cormac, for his part, looked utterly shocked that a princess could have a temper, and a handle on crude language to boot.  He raised his hands in surrender, his left palm shimmering iridescently in the lantern light.

    "So, then," he answered, a bit sheepishly, "tell me why it is you don't want to be here?"

    "Fear, I suppose," I answered, calming down a bit, "because the villains in all of the stories told to me during my childhood were creatures, and quite frankly, if you were to tell me that your childhood stories didn't feature humans as the villain, I don't think I would believe you.  Now, why is it that you don't want to be here?"

    "Humans are always the villains in our stories.  I see the benefit of the creatures fighting in the King's army.  It's this integration that makes no sense to me.  Have troll companies, have golem companies, have goblin companies, orc companies, Drache companies and human companies.  We're all so different that the integration will only be a hindrance, and some races are wildly stronger than others.  How can we fight if we're always protecting the weaker ones?  It's naive to believe the next kingdom over won't be using creatures in their army as well," he stated.

    "Well, dearest Cormac, you might just be glad of my rank after I tell you this.  The kingdom that is most troubling of late is Strumman.  And in the kingdom of Strumman, there are strict laws preventing fraternization between humans and creatures, extending even to their defenses.  Their king, Stieg, believes that the creatures, while an infinite fount of brute strength, have the intelligence of a log, that they're not even bright enough to follow orders," I said, dripping sarcasm.

    "How do you know this?" he asked, intrigued.

    "Well placed spies.  That happen to be mine," I admitted exultantly.

    He looked at me, incredulous, "You're the Spymaster?"

    "Spymistress," I corrected.

    I watched his face as it shifted between disbelief and admiration, and I watched his respect for me grow, even if only infinitesimally, in that moment.  If nothing else, we were forming that rapport.  We gathered up our dishes, and began toward the barracks, me taking two steps for each of his one.

    As we approached the door to the sleeping quarters, he turned to me, his indigo eyes sparkling with mirth, "Well, my balls aren't made of iron, but they are, in fact, quite large."