12. Silvershield Estate

Koveras nods. "Dieter doesn't seem like his usual self. And Lady Melerelel seems always troubled, sometimes even while with Aldous. That boy..." The half-orc chuckles. "I think he'd do anything for her."

He glances down a hallway, then heads that way, leading to a small courtyard with two tall poles. "Ah. I don't suppose you've heard of badminton? Nobles all over the Gate have been putting these courts up. All the rage, these days. I shouldn't be surprised the Silvershields have one. And where there's one sport, there ought to be... yes."

Koveras opens a large nearby chest, revealing an assortment of wooden weapons. He takes up a pair fashioned to look like shortswords and spins them in his large hands, then shrugs. "Have you any healing magic left? I'd hate to sleep with a broken nose."

"that would be great, thank you Aiwë" Dieter says. He touches his crown and feels that it is wet at the base. The strain must have opened the wound.

"Dieter hasn't been right since he died, but we left him alone in the temple of Lathander for an hour and when we came back he had horns."

Aiwë looks over the weapons chest, the keeps her mallets. They are already wooden bludgeoning weapons.

"Stella came for a vacation. She wasn't prepared for any of this violence. Sure, our parents taught her the skills but she never had to face the realities of it. And Aldous!" Aiwë falls into Orcish as she stretches.

"The boy asked my permission to marry her, you know? I can't tell if the idea makes her happy or stresses her out even more. And I think she's still mad at me that I sassed the Duke yesterday. The attitude of that man!"

She grins at Koveras. "I'm all full up! I couldn't stomach risking that nose."

"Marry her!" Koveras exclaims in Orcish. "He asked you for advice about it, and hasn't mentioned it to me? And I thought he and I were friends." Aiwe notes once more that his accent seems surprisingly similar to her own.

The half-orc offers a simple salute with his 'blades', then swings them around to attack Aiwe from one side. And Koveras is strong.

(Insight: Though she's seen him fight with such weapons before, it seems odd to Aiwe that the big guy chooses such small weapons, when he's obviously got the strength for heavier ones. His fighting style just isn't graceful enough for such agile weaponry.)

"He barely wanted advice, he asked for my blessing! Gah!" She gasps as he strikes a blow. "That's my ribs!" She tucks herself under the larger man's arm and hits him with her mallet. "There's yours!"

She leaps back. "Don't feel bad, this was only a full three hours after we pulled his sorry behind from the exact scenario I warned him about—and got you as a bonus."

Aldous stutters a bit, but allows Aiwe to lead him away.

"Koveras? Well, he's been hiding himself away in his room. I stopped by several times today to see him, but he was very absorbed in his work..."

The half-orc's grunt at the impact of Aiwe's mallets turns into a snort. "No wonder he can't keep his head on straight... So. How does she feel about things?"

Koveras falls into a routine, whirling his wooden sticks up and down and around. Then he cleverly locks them under the heads of Aiwe's mallets and pushes her weapons high, holding them just at the extent of her reach. With both their arms raised, his eyes flick to hers.

(Insight: He's nervous. And not feeling particularly confident.)

He rolls his eyes. "And what a bonus I turned out to be." He stomps down on one of her feet and pushes with his arms, sending her stumbling backward. "That would have been a broken ankle, by the way."

Dieter looks out the window again at his dogs. He peers down at the walkway below and in an instant he’s there.

"Remus, Romulus to me!" Dieter calls them over. He looks Remus in the eyes "it seems we have more in common then I first thought" tears now fill Dieter’s own. He gives Romulus a big hug and sits there for a while with them.

"Stella doesn't know what she wants. She knows what she likes—studying, magic, that silly boy, but will she take it? When she decides will she be confident? I'm not sure."

She rolls her eyes in turn. "Quit beating on yourself, I'm pleased with the score."

Aiwë snarls against the pain as she staggers back. "Or I was—would have been broken?" she hisses, hoping to make him think he'd truly injured her in an attempt to shock an opening out of him. He'd seen her genuinely hurt before though, and it doesn't work. Her attack is knocked away easily.

"Who taught you Orcish, Blood? Your accent is really good, but it's Northern. Almost like the Dale. Did you know?"

Koveras responds by suddenly dropping one of his swords and curling his hand into a fist, then socking Aiwe in the gut. Or, at least he tries to. "Ow!" He wrings out his fingers. "Did you eat rocks instead of rolls just now?"

With just the one weapon now he goes on the defensive.

"It was Winski who taught me, just like he taught me everything I know about Orc culture. The old butler, remember? Though he's really been more like a grandfather to me." He grunts with exertion. "I know he's traveled a lot. Perhaps he's from up North originally. You should meet him, actually! He's one of the contacts I've been writing, though I have to be especially careful as he's currently in the Iron Throne compound here in the city. I'd hate to get the old orc killed."

Shelur only grins at him as his fist meets her hard abdominal muscles. "I look forward to meeting him, then! I wonder what tribe he's from. You know, Chaide can tell by face and accent alone—she's the one who told Khanna and Keggruk they're actually related. Or am I saying things you've already read?"

Aiwë stays close, using his lack of agility against him to hit his other side with her mallet. She watches his movements but also his face. Why is he nervous?

"So, Winski taught you Orcish, who taught you to fight? Rieltar? Your muscles are wasted on those little swords."

Koveras wipes sweat from his brow - and pays for it with another strike from Aiwe's untiring mallets. "Your uncle's book does talk a lot about ancestral lines among the tribes of the North. It's nice to hear someone speak of their orc heritage with pride."

He risks going on the offensive, but his swipe meets only empty air as Aiwe neatly steps around him. The half-orc chuckles. "I had a few tutors from the Iron Throne. They obviously didn't teach me well enough!"

(Insight: The nervousness Koveras showed earlier seems to have gone. Now he just looks tired - and defeated!

"Whoa, now hold on. I admit defeat!" He drops his sword and raises his hands in surrender. "You've vanquished me, Shelur."

Aiwë winds up for an overhead blow that she aborts just in time.

"Ah! I accept your surrender!" She holsters her mallet next to its partner and picks up one of the swords. "They taught you just fine," she says, twirling it, "only on the wrong weapon. You've never tried a greatsword? A maul?"

She eyes him as she speaks. He really is very well buttoned up, she expected to see more fire once she dealt a little pain.

"Tried? Of course. My tutors just preferred a more... clandestine approach." He gestures at the sword Aiwe holds. "It's the blade you don't see coming that is most dangerous."

(Insight: Aiwe remembers finding Koveras in the bandit camp. He'd been as battered as she's ever seen anyone, and still kept his composure, taking hits for Aldous. This one has had a long and deep relationship with pain.)

He meets her eyes for a moment, then clears his throat. "Thanks for the spar. 'You get to know someone better sparring for an hour than talking to them for a year.'" Aiwe recognizes the quote, for Keggruk had said it often. No doubt the orog included it in his book.

Aiwë always liked that saying, given that sparring was how her parents met.

Shelur grins at him, holding his eyes easily. "Then let's spar two. Don't tell me that after a desk all day this was more than a warm up?" She gestures with her chin at the chest of weapons. "There has to be at least a longsword in that chest. Have a go, and pick something for me? I do need to go in and be there for Dieter and his new horns and Stella and her anxiety, but... not yet."

Koveras looks conflicted, as though he'd rather go back in and continue his work, but then he shrugs and pokes through the chest. He chooses a warhammer and a battleaxe, and holds both of them out to Aiwe. "Wait, Dieter has horns now? What did he do, turn himself into a tiefling somehow?"

Aiwë takes the axe and forgoes her shield. "Yes, horns! That's what I said—you must have gotten sidetracked by Aldous' impending proposal. I think he might have asked Duke Belt with some cleric stuff on his brain, and now he has horns. They're kind of more like branches, but they're sticking out of his skull." She steps in toward Koveras with a swing of the axe, but fumbles the angle on the 'bladed' weapon.

"Aldous riled him a little when we got back and he teleported. I had to usher the lordling off before we learned what else he can do now."

Koveras sidesteps her clumsy blow and then moves forward to club her with the hammer, but the swing doesn't have nearly enough strength behind it. The half-orc frowns at the weapon. "It's the right shape, I suppose, but the weight distribution is all wrong..." He tosses the useless thing aside and raises his bare hands instead, obviously intending to fight unarmed.

"So Dieter's got horns, Miss Melerelel is stressed. But what about you? Shouldering their burdens along with your own?"

"Honestly, who buys unweighted practice weapons?" Aiwë tosses her axe aside too then darts in quickly to meet the side of Koveras' head with her fist.

"There was room. No burdens here, I'm free as a bird." She winks.