As expected, the training equipment here was really top-notch. Khari would have been envious if she hadn't been in the middle of taking full advantage of the fact.
A heavy practice blade in her hands, she stood on a narrow balance apparatus made from several poles lashed together, not entirely unlike the one at Skyhold. Bringing the blade down, Khari shifted her balance, moving her left foot from one of the support poles to another, landing lightly and firmly on the ball of it, just behind her toes. Shifting in a slow, controlled motion into a horizontal slice, she jumped, swinging it in a broad arc that twisted her around until she completed a half-circle, landing again. That time, she wobbled a bit, but stabilized quickly, moving back into her routine.
Khari's breath hissed out from between her teeth; she twisted herself another quarter turn and started back down the obstacle. They'd been here for a couple days now, long enough for her to learn that the guardsmen wouldn't be practicing anything for another couple of hours, so she was relishing the time to practice on her own.
The truth was, Khari didn't think she was going to be of any kind of help to anyone here. She'd do anything she could, of course, but she wasn't the kind of person who knew anything about politics, especially not politics as complicated as the Orlesian kind. All the lessons in talking to fancy people and all that were going... okay. But not great. She wasn't good at remembering how to phrase things, and whenever someone threw her a question she wasn't expecting, she fell back on her rougher, blunter mannerisms reactively. Honestly, it would probably be better for the Inquisition overall if she didn't go at all, but it was too dangerous to risk not taking enough people who could fight if that was needed.
They were trying to stop an assassination plot by Corypheus, after all. Grunting, Khari pushed the thoughts away and swung again, kicking out with one of her feet and pivoting on the other. A pommel strike to her invisible foe was followed up with a quick slash-thrust sequence, leaving her with three feet of beam on the other side. Running it, she jumped off the end, launching herself as high in the air as she could go, angling herself for a roll with her hangtime. She hit the dirt with an audible thud, softening the momentum by tucking in and springing back to her feet at the end. If anything staved off the feeling of uselessness, it was physical activity, so it made sense to keep at it. Maybe she could run around the High Quarter? That'd startle people, probably: a solitary, armed and armored elf doing wind sprints around their perfectly-kept houses.
It'd almost be worth it just for that.
But before she could so much as exit the ring to do that, a throat cleared some distance behind her. When she turned, it was to see Lucien there, dressed in light chain and a cloak, his own sword slung across his back, the hilt of it visible over his right shoulder. He leaned forward against the fence, forearms braced on one of the horizontal posts, hands loosely clasped together. "Good morning," he said. Even from that distance, it was impossible to mistake his good-humored expression: a slightly-crooked smile and the faint narrowing of his eyes. "I was wondering who it was that got out here so early every day. I thought it might be Estella, since she used to do the same thing."
If he was disappointed that it wasn't, he gave absolutely no indication of it. "You've got very nice footwork," he remarked instead. "If you don't mind me saying so."
Khari's breath, which had been even and deep, hitched awkwardly; she tried unsuccessfully to swallow down the sudden nervous lump in her throat. Shit, shit, shit. He'd seen her boring menial morning practice and she hadn't even known he was there. It wasn't exactly clear to her why that was such a bad thing, except that she really, really didn't want to look like her usual idiot self in front of him in particular. He was Lucien Drakon, for gods' sake. Chevalier. Commander of the Orlesian mercenary company, all the rest of them be damned. Prince. He'd killed dragons.
“Uh." She was clearly off to a spectacular start at not looking like an idiot. Khari felt herself flushing against her will. She'd always prided herself on being able to talk to just about anyone, but her tongue felt like a lead weight in her mouth right now. Probably because he was pretty much her hero. She knew the stories about him, both the public ones and the ones Stel had told her in a little more confidence, and not one of them made him out to be anything less than the most honorable, upstanding person she could imagine. He hardly even seemed human to her.
But there he was, right in front of her face. Apparently he thought her footwork was good. And she was gawking like a fool. “I mean, um. Thank you. For letting me use your stuff. Ril has some other stuff like it in Skyhold, but this is a really nice setup. That... I am probably stopping you from using. Am I in the way? I can get out of the way?"
Trying not to gape silently had clearly swung her much too far in the opposite direction.
Lucien held up a hand, palm facing out, near the level of his shoulder, accompanying the motion with a shake of his head. "You are not even slightly in my way," he replied. "Actually, I was thinking of going out into the city for a little while. But as my Lions are all busy elsewhere right now and the guards have their duties here, I'm afraid I'm rather bereft of bodyguards. Would you perhaps be willing to do me the favor, Khari? You seem properly equipped already, but you're welcome to anything in the armory if you want it."
The smile stretched a little further across his face. "Of course, if I'm interrupting you, you need only say so. I'm sure Rilien would go if I asked."
Khari's eyes got progressively rounder and wider as he spoke, and the words had to knock around in her head for a while before they properly settled. Not that it mattered, because she was speaking before thinking about it at all. What was there to think about? Absolutely nothing. “I'll do it." She was sweaty and awkward and her hair was probably a mess, but she wasn't about to decline.
Sliding her Inquisition-loaned zweihänder into the sheath at her back, she tried not to bounce over to him, and maintain something that looked halfway dignified instead. She failed. It was hard to care. “So, uh, where in town are we going?"
Lucien waited for her to reach him and hop the fence before he replied. "Oh, I've got some business with a few local merchants, is all. And there's a tailor we like to use here—I need to tell her there will be quite a large order incoming later today, once Lady Marceline has retrieved everyone's dimensions and all that." He shrugged. "Not the most exciting matters, I confess. But who knows? Perhaps we'll run into something interesting on the way."
That said, he led her to the front gate, closing it over behind them as they departed. He matched his stride to hers as they walked, apparently without much effort. They made for quite an odd duo, in the sheer physics of it; he wasn't quite as tall or broad as Leon, but it was a near-enough thing for the discrepancy to still be quite apparent. It wasn't the only one, though: Lucien's face was clearly widely-known, even after they exited the High Quarter. He answered to calls of his name, or 'Commander' more often than anything, and made frequent stops, pausing to peruse a fruit stand or trinket stall and chat amiably with its attendant. If he was in a hurry to complete his business, he was doing a very poor job of acting like it.
"Do you like apples, Khari?" He inquired, holding a shiny red one out towards her. He had a green one in his other hand; the fruit merchant was counting coins into his purse. "Estella might have mentioned you did." The expression on his face suggested the hypothetical was no such thing, and he'd been certain before he asked.
She accepted, grinning despite herself. “Well, she might have been right." Khari felt a little of the tension leave her. She bit into the apple with a crunch, surprised at how fresh it was at this time of year. She'd have thought winter too long started for fruit to be this easy to come by. Maybe cities were like that, though. Real ones, with lots of trade and imports and who knew what else. The flavor burst over her tongue, and she expelled a breath from her nose, feeling a little more like herself.
They wandered a bit further down the road. She was doing a pretty abysmal job at being a bodyguard, she supposed; she'd actually never been taught how to be one. But something like that was probably only a formality for him—it wasn't like she'd be able to handle anything he couldn't manage quite well by himself. She glanced at the sword on his back. It was an impressive piece of weaponry, ancient-looking, with a faint red light to it that must have been the enchantment. Everburn, she knew it was called.
She glanced away, fixing her eyes on his profile instead. “So, uh... what else has Stel mentioned about me? Did she ever get to the part about what I want to do with my life?" She couldn't quite force the words out herself, not without any kind of idea how he'd react to them. Normal people calling her stupid for wanting what she wanted was one thing. She could handle that. Khari didn't think she'd be able to handle the same thing from him, or even the gentle dismissal that admittedly seemed more likely based on what she'd seen so far of his personality.
He turned his head to meet her eyes, both brows lifting marginally. It took him a second to finish the bite he was working on, but he nodded in the meantime, and then swallowed. "You speak of your aspirations to become a chevalier? She has mentioned them, yes. She's quite confident that you have the work ethic for it, too. Having observed you at it just now, I think I am inclined to agree." His mouth quirked into a smile briefly, falling back into a pleasant sort of attentiveness after. "It's not just anyone who would practice by themselves, early in the morning, while on what is essentially a break from normal duties."
It wasn't a dismissal, and Khari relaxed the rest of the way. Perhaps too much, since her next words found their way to her lips before she'd given the the consideration Marcy was constantly reminding her she needed to have in front of important people. “Having the right work ethic doesn't mean I can do it, though." She grimaced. “I'm not a noble, or even a human. They'd never let me into the Academie. And no matter how much I learn, it's useless if no one ever values it, right?" She took another bite, this one almost angrily, wiping excess juice from her mouth with the pad of her thumb.
Lucien hummed in what sounded like a thoughtful sort of way. "It's definitely going to be hard for you," he said simply, lifting broad shoulders in a shrug. "The Academie teaches all the fundamentals: horsemanship, weapon techniques, general physical conditioning, strategy and tactics, bodyguarding and the defense of others." The last item, he said with a tone of amusement. Clearly he had noticed that she had no idea what she was doing in that respect.
"But you know... not every chevalier that ever became one did so by graduating from the Academie. Ser Aveline proved herself in the Grand Tourney. Ser Laurent du Lac's family was shamed all the way back in the Divine Age, and so he performed heroic deeds for Emperor Judicael I, and earned his knighthood that way." He paused a moment before turning them down a side street. "There are other options, is what I'm saying."
Khari considered that for a moment, almost unsure what to make of it. She was conscious of the fact that it was valuable advice, and that he wouldn't be giving it to her for no reason. Still, he had to see what she saw—that the most obvious obstacle wasn't just her lack of nobility. “Do you think people would really accept it? An elven chevalier?" It had always been the major stumbling block. The obvious problem. She'd ignored it as well as she could for as long as she could, but she couldn't pretend it wasn't a problem. Not anymore.
Lucien took his time responding to that one, navigating them down a few more streets in the process. He still got more than a few waves and greetings from the people, most of whom seemed to be elves out here. After a moment, he stopped, and then turned to her. "Let's take a small detour. There's something I want you to see."
He reversed direction, turning left where he'd been about to go right. the streets narrowed here; clearly they were headed for the slums. He paused at one crossroads, gesturing for her to step up beside them and look at what was in front of them.
It was, unsurprisingly, a vhenadahl, an old one, from the looks of it, situated in the middle of a large clearing. Lucien leaned his shoulder into the building next to him, smiling slightly. "Oh good, they're here today." With his chin, he gestured beneath the tree. Several children, ranging in age from about seven to probably fifteen or so, were playing some kind of war game, wooden swords in-hand. Their swings were clumsy and inelegant almost to a one, but some of the older ones looked like they'd been taught at least the basics at some point, and sometimes they stopped and corrected the younger ones.
"After Lord D'Artignon hired us to train his household in the basics of self-defense," Lucien explained, still watching the children, "some of the Lions decided to use their free time to offer the same to the citizens of slums like this one, and Alienages elsewhere. As a way of... giving them a chance for something." His smile faded, and he pressed his lips together. "But the trouble is, none of us can really show them what it might be a chance for. Only a few of us can serve as the role models they really need. Even then, people already know that elves can be mercenaries, just like they can be Bards. It's good to remind them, but it seldom inspires."
He sighed heavily through his nose. "And those of us who've ever been anything else, well... we're not elves. It's hard for them to aspire to what they can't even really imagine. They're not to blame for that. Most people have the same problem, after all." Lucien crossed his arms over his chest, watching as two of the older children dueled, a pair of girls armed with fake shortswords. "But it does mean little ever changes for them."
“It's the same for the Dalish." Khari swallowed, watching the two girls fight with their wooden swords and remembering a time when it had been her, with a stick in the woods, without anyone else to even pretend to spar against. “All we can imagine is the past, and so we never move forward. It's... it's why I left. Why I want this." She bit her lip, worrying it between her teeth. “I want them to know they can be anything." She almost whispered the words, then shook her head. “I want it to be true."
Lucien nodded slightly. The nearer of the two girls, the littler one, swept the taller one's feet out from underneath her, pointing the end of the mock-blade at her opponent's forehead before grinning broadly, exposing several missing teeth. Then she helped her up, and the chaotic melee resumed.
"Then what does it matter," he asked, "whether anyone else understands?" He turned from the match to look at her steadily. "If you get the title, you get the title. And people will hate you for it. They will call you things you do not deserve, ignore you at social functions, give you the worst tasks they can if they are in charge of your duty roster. They will do everything in their power to force you out, to humiliate you, to make you quit." His arms uncrossed and dropped to his sides.
"But those children will know that they can be chevaliers, because chevaliers can have pointed ears. Or even vallaslin. If you earn your way in, if you prove you belong in the order, they will know it too. A worthy trade, isn't it?"
“Yeah." Khari's brows furrowed. He hadn't told her anything she didn't already know, really. But something about the way he said it, or who it was coming from... that stuff mattered. Just like it would matter if she in particular became a chevalier. “Yeah, it is." Her free hand curled into a fist at her side. Abruptly, she turned to face him fully.
“I've been a pretty shitty bodyguard so far. Can you teach me how to do it better? If I'm gonna keep up with the Academie brats, I've gotta be good at everything."
Lucien smiled, a soft huff of laughter escaping him. "Of course. Follow me, and this time, walk about two paces behind and slightly to the left. If you're in my blind spot, an attacker can't be."
A heavy practice blade in her hands, she stood on a narrow balance apparatus made from several poles lashed together, not entirely unlike the one at Skyhold. Bringing the blade down, Khari shifted her balance, moving her left foot from one of the support poles to another, landing lightly and firmly on the ball of it, just behind her toes. Shifting in a slow, controlled motion into a horizontal slice, she jumped, swinging it in a broad arc that twisted her around until she completed a half-circle, landing again. That time, she wobbled a bit, but stabilized quickly, moving back into her routine.
Khari's breath hissed out from between her teeth; she twisted herself another quarter turn and started back down the obstacle. They'd been here for a couple days now, long enough for her to learn that the guardsmen wouldn't be practicing anything for another couple of hours, so she was relishing the time to practice on her own.
The truth was, Khari didn't think she was going to be of any kind of help to anyone here. She'd do anything she could, of course, but she wasn't the kind of person who knew anything about politics, especially not politics as complicated as the Orlesian kind. All the lessons in talking to fancy people and all that were going... okay. But not great. She wasn't good at remembering how to phrase things, and whenever someone threw her a question she wasn't expecting, she fell back on her rougher, blunter mannerisms reactively. Honestly, it would probably be better for the Inquisition overall if she didn't go at all, but it was too dangerous to risk not taking enough people who could fight if that was needed.
They were trying to stop an assassination plot by Corypheus, after all. Grunting, Khari pushed the thoughts away and swung again, kicking out with one of her feet and pivoting on the other. A pommel strike to her invisible foe was followed up with a quick slash-thrust sequence, leaving her with three feet of beam on the other side. Running it, she jumped off the end, launching herself as high in the air as she could go, angling herself for a roll with her hangtime. She hit the dirt with an audible thud, softening the momentum by tucking in and springing back to her feet at the end. If anything staved off the feeling of uselessness, it was physical activity, so it made sense to keep at it. Maybe she could run around the High Quarter? That'd startle people, probably: a solitary, armed and armored elf doing wind sprints around their perfectly-kept houses.
It'd almost be worth it just for that.
But before she could so much as exit the ring to do that, a throat cleared some distance behind her. When she turned, it was to see Lucien there, dressed in light chain and a cloak, his own sword slung across his back, the hilt of it visible over his right shoulder. He leaned forward against the fence, forearms braced on one of the horizontal posts, hands loosely clasped together. "Good morning," he said. Even from that distance, it was impossible to mistake his good-humored expression: a slightly-crooked smile and the faint narrowing of his eyes. "I was wondering who it was that got out here so early every day. I thought it might be Estella, since she used to do the same thing."
If he was disappointed that it wasn't, he gave absolutely no indication of it. "You've got very nice footwork," he remarked instead. "If you don't mind me saying so."
Khari's breath, which had been even and deep, hitched awkwardly; she tried unsuccessfully to swallow down the sudden nervous lump in her throat. Shit, shit, shit. He'd seen her boring menial morning practice and she hadn't even known he was there. It wasn't exactly clear to her why that was such a bad thing, except that she really, really didn't want to look like her usual idiot self in front of him in particular. He was Lucien Drakon, for gods' sake. Chevalier. Commander of the Orlesian mercenary company, all the rest of them be damned. Prince. He'd killed dragons.
“Uh." She was clearly off to a spectacular start at not looking like an idiot. Khari felt herself flushing against her will. She'd always prided herself on being able to talk to just about anyone, but her tongue felt like a lead weight in her mouth right now. Probably because he was pretty much her hero. She knew the stories about him, both the public ones and the ones Stel had told her in a little more confidence, and not one of them made him out to be anything less than the most honorable, upstanding person she could imagine. He hardly even seemed human to her.
But there he was, right in front of her face. Apparently he thought her footwork was good. And she was gawking like a fool. “I mean, um. Thank you. For letting me use your stuff. Ril has some other stuff like it in Skyhold, but this is a really nice setup. That... I am probably stopping you from using. Am I in the way? I can get out of the way?"
Trying not to gape silently had clearly swung her much too far in the opposite direction.
Lucien held up a hand, palm facing out, near the level of his shoulder, accompanying the motion with a shake of his head. "You are not even slightly in my way," he replied. "Actually, I was thinking of going out into the city for a little while. But as my Lions are all busy elsewhere right now and the guards have their duties here, I'm afraid I'm rather bereft of bodyguards. Would you perhaps be willing to do me the favor, Khari? You seem properly equipped already, but you're welcome to anything in the armory if you want it."
The smile stretched a little further across his face. "Of course, if I'm interrupting you, you need only say so. I'm sure Rilien would go if I asked."
Khari's eyes got progressively rounder and wider as he spoke, and the words had to knock around in her head for a while before they properly settled. Not that it mattered, because she was speaking before thinking about it at all. What was there to think about? Absolutely nothing. “I'll do it." She was sweaty and awkward and her hair was probably a mess, but she wasn't about to decline.
Sliding her Inquisition-loaned zweihänder into the sheath at her back, she tried not to bounce over to him, and maintain something that looked halfway dignified instead. She failed. It was hard to care. “So, uh, where in town are we going?"
Lucien waited for her to reach him and hop the fence before he replied. "Oh, I've got some business with a few local merchants, is all. And there's a tailor we like to use here—I need to tell her there will be quite a large order incoming later today, once Lady Marceline has retrieved everyone's dimensions and all that." He shrugged. "Not the most exciting matters, I confess. But who knows? Perhaps we'll run into something interesting on the way."
That said, he led her to the front gate, closing it over behind them as they departed. He matched his stride to hers as they walked, apparently without much effort. They made for quite an odd duo, in the sheer physics of it; he wasn't quite as tall or broad as Leon, but it was a near-enough thing for the discrepancy to still be quite apparent. It wasn't the only one, though: Lucien's face was clearly widely-known, even after they exited the High Quarter. He answered to calls of his name, or 'Commander' more often than anything, and made frequent stops, pausing to peruse a fruit stand or trinket stall and chat amiably with its attendant. If he was in a hurry to complete his business, he was doing a very poor job of acting like it.
"Do you like apples, Khari?" He inquired, holding a shiny red one out towards her. He had a green one in his other hand; the fruit merchant was counting coins into his purse. "Estella might have mentioned you did." The expression on his face suggested the hypothetical was no such thing, and he'd been certain before he asked.
She accepted, grinning despite herself. “Well, she might have been right." Khari felt a little of the tension leave her. She bit into the apple with a crunch, surprised at how fresh it was at this time of year. She'd have thought winter too long started for fruit to be this easy to come by. Maybe cities were like that, though. Real ones, with lots of trade and imports and who knew what else. The flavor burst over her tongue, and she expelled a breath from her nose, feeling a little more like herself.
They wandered a bit further down the road. She was doing a pretty abysmal job at being a bodyguard, she supposed; she'd actually never been taught how to be one. But something like that was probably only a formality for him—it wasn't like she'd be able to handle anything he couldn't manage quite well by himself. She glanced at the sword on his back. It was an impressive piece of weaponry, ancient-looking, with a faint red light to it that must have been the enchantment. Everburn, she knew it was called.
She glanced away, fixing her eyes on his profile instead. “So, uh... what else has Stel mentioned about me? Did she ever get to the part about what I want to do with my life?" She couldn't quite force the words out herself, not without any kind of idea how he'd react to them. Normal people calling her stupid for wanting what she wanted was one thing. She could handle that. Khari didn't think she'd be able to handle the same thing from him, or even the gentle dismissal that admittedly seemed more likely based on what she'd seen so far of his personality.
He turned his head to meet her eyes, both brows lifting marginally. It took him a second to finish the bite he was working on, but he nodded in the meantime, and then swallowed. "You speak of your aspirations to become a chevalier? She has mentioned them, yes. She's quite confident that you have the work ethic for it, too. Having observed you at it just now, I think I am inclined to agree." His mouth quirked into a smile briefly, falling back into a pleasant sort of attentiveness after. "It's not just anyone who would practice by themselves, early in the morning, while on what is essentially a break from normal duties."
It wasn't a dismissal, and Khari relaxed the rest of the way. Perhaps too much, since her next words found their way to her lips before she'd given the the consideration Marcy was constantly reminding her she needed to have in front of important people. “Having the right work ethic doesn't mean I can do it, though." She grimaced. “I'm not a noble, or even a human. They'd never let me into the Academie. And no matter how much I learn, it's useless if no one ever values it, right?" She took another bite, this one almost angrily, wiping excess juice from her mouth with the pad of her thumb.
Lucien hummed in what sounded like a thoughtful sort of way. "It's definitely going to be hard for you," he said simply, lifting broad shoulders in a shrug. "The Academie teaches all the fundamentals: horsemanship, weapon techniques, general physical conditioning, strategy and tactics, bodyguarding and the defense of others." The last item, he said with a tone of amusement. Clearly he had noticed that she had no idea what she was doing in that respect.
"But you know... not every chevalier that ever became one did so by graduating from the Academie. Ser Aveline proved herself in the Grand Tourney. Ser Laurent du Lac's family was shamed all the way back in the Divine Age, and so he performed heroic deeds for Emperor Judicael I, and earned his knighthood that way." He paused a moment before turning them down a side street. "There are other options, is what I'm saying."
Khari considered that for a moment, almost unsure what to make of it. She was conscious of the fact that it was valuable advice, and that he wouldn't be giving it to her for no reason. Still, he had to see what she saw—that the most obvious obstacle wasn't just her lack of nobility. “Do you think people would really accept it? An elven chevalier?" It had always been the major stumbling block. The obvious problem. She'd ignored it as well as she could for as long as she could, but she couldn't pretend it wasn't a problem. Not anymore.
Lucien took his time responding to that one, navigating them down a few more streets in the process. He still got more than a few waves and greetings from the people, most of whom seemed to be elves out here. After a moment, he stopped, and then turned to her. "Let's take a small detour. There's something I want you to see."
He reversed direction, turning left where he'd been about to go right. the streets narrowed here; clearly they were headed for the slums. He paused at one crossroads, gesturing for her to step up beside them and look at what was in front of them.
It was, unsurprisingly, a vhenadahl, an old one, from the looks of it, situated in the middle of a large clearing. Lucien leaned his shoulder into the building next to him, smiling slightly. "Oh good, they're here today." With his chin, he gestured beneath the tree. Several children, ranging in age from about seven to probably fifteen or so, were playing some kind of war game, wooden swords in-hand. Their swings were clumsy and inelegant almost to a one, but some of the older ones looked like they'd been taught at least the basics at some point, and sometimes they stopped and corrected the younger ones.
"After Lord D'Artignon hired us to train his household in the basics of self-defense," Lucien explained, still watching the children, "some of the Lions decided to use their free time to offer the same to the citizens of slums like this one, and Alienages elsewhere. As a way of... giving them a chance for something." His smile faded, and he pressed his lips together. "But the trouble is, none of us can really show them what it might be a chance for. Only a few of us can serve as the role models they really need. Even then, people already know that elves can be mercenaries, just like they can be Bards. It's good to remind them, but it seldom inspires."
He sighed heavily through his nose. "And those of us who've ever been anything else, well... we're not elves. It's hard for them to aspire to what they can't even really imagine. They're not to blame for that. Most people have the same problem, after all." Lucien crossed his arms over his chest, watching as two of the older children dueled, a pair of girls armed with fake shortswords. "But it does mean little ever changes for them."
“It's the same for the Dalish." Khari swallowed, watching the two girls fight with their wooden swords and remembering a time when it had been her, with a stick in the woods, without anyone else to even pretend to spar against. “All we can imagine is the past, and so we never move forward. It's... it's why I left. Why I want this." She bit her lip, worrying it between her teeth. “I want them to know they can be anything." She almost whispered the words, then shook her head. “I want it to be true."
Lucien nodded slightly. The nearer of the two girls, the littler one, swept the taller one's feet out from underneath her, pointing the end of the mock-blade at her opponent's forehead before grinning broadly, exposing several missing teeth. Then she helped her up, and the chaotic melee resumed.
"Then what does it matter," he asked, "whether anyone else understands?" He turned from the match to look at her steadily. "If you get the title, you get the title. And people will hate you for it. They will call you things you do not deserve, ignore you at social functions, give you the worst tasks they can if they are in charge of your duty roster. They will do everything in their power to force you out, to humiliate you, to make you quit." His arms uncrossed and dropped to his sides.
"But those children will know that they can be chevaliers, because chevaliers can have pointed ears. Or even vallaslin. If you earn your way in, if you prove you belong in the order, they will know it too. A worthy trade, isn't it?"
“Yeah." Khari's brows furrowed. He hadn't told her anything she didn't already know, really. But something about the way he said it, or who it was coming from... that stuff mattered. Just like it would matter if she in particular became a chevalier. “Yeah, it is." Her free hand curled into a fist at her side. Abruptly, she turned to face him fully.
“I've been a pretty shitty bodyguard so far. Can you teach me how to do it better? If I'm gonna keep up with the Academie brats, I've gotta be good at everything."
Lucien smiled, a soft huff of laughter escaping him. "Of course. Follow me, and this time, walk about two paces behind and slightly to the left. If you're in my blind spot, an attacker can't be."